Sherlock fic: Click (Sherlock/John, R)

[marita_c]

Title: Click
Wordcount: ~1900 
Rating: R
Characters: Sherlock/John
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit. etc...
Thanks: To chocolate_limes  and butterfly_mind for a superb beta work and brit-picking. Remaining mistakes are all mine. 
Summary: John is tripping. Sherlock takes advantage.
Warnings: Consent issues. 

Click. Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. John opens his eyes. He’s not sure where he is, at first. Another beat, some clarity trickles in. It takes longer than it should; the neurons in his brain firing at leisure, electrochemical gradients lazy to build up. He’s in his bed, in his bedroom. He’s not alone. He rolls his head sideways to find his flatmate sitting cross-legged on his bed, tapping and clicking away at his laptop. Sherlock, in his dressing gown, is entirely focused on the computer, looking more inhuman than usual; the bluish light cast off the screen creating an ethereal shadow-play across his features.  John is naked. It takes a moment to register but once it does, self-awareness washes over him in a startling jolt, chasing some of the fog away from his brain. “Did…” his voice is raspy, strange to his ears. He clears his throat and tries again. “Did we have sex?” Sherlock keeps tapping. For a moment John wonders if he even heard him, but then Sherlock’s eyes briefly dart in his direction before returning to the screen. “In a manner of speaking,” Sherlock replies flatly. John closes his eyes, tries to think back. *** An acid-filled Erlenmeyer flask hits the wall inches from his head and shatters. John ducks, successfully avoiding the splatter. “Give it up, Jacobs!” John calls out, tightening his grip on the gun. From the corner of his eye he sees Sherlock, inching towards the killer from the opposite end of the lab. Sherlock makes eye-contact, sends John a tiny nod. John makes his move.   Gun pointing straight ahead, he rounds the next corner, keeping his back to the wall. Jacobs is… nowhere to be seen. He must have miscalculated. John turns in the opposite direction and has a brief glimpse of Jacobs holding a small, opened container before a cloud of white powder hits his face. He squeezes the trigger instinctively as he staggers back, momentarily blind. From Jacobs’ cry of pain he surmises the bullet hit its target. “Sherlock!” he cries out, trying to blink the powder out of his eyes. He coughs. It’s everywhere; in his mouth, in his nose. He spits some of it out, hoping the lack of taste is a good sign. Sherlock’s blurry face appears in front of him. “Are you alright?” John coughs again. “What the hell is this?” Sherlock reaches for the empty container rolling on the floor, glances at the label, then shows it to John. “MDMA. Medical grade.” Sherlock sounds almost amused. John sighs miserably. “Wonderful.” *** The paramedic who’s taking his blood pressure has very nice teeth. John is too busy concentrating on her teeth — white and shiny, to notice what she’s saying. It’s not important; it’s Sherlock she’s talking to, anyway.   She says something about sleeping it off and John laughs. Both she and Sherlock turn to look at him, frowning. They clearly didn’t get the joke. Lestrade shows up, starts shouting at Sherlock. Sherlock is standing close enough to John that he can smell him. Sherlock smells lovely. Like soap and sandalwood and spring rain. John tells him that, which causes Lestrade to stop mid-sentence and look at him strangely.  “Just take him home,” Lestrade says gruffly before walking away. *** John has been talking non-stop for the past half hour. He’s not quite sure what he’s on about. Sherlock is ignoring him - had probably tuned him out a while ago. John doesn’t mind — he’s very happy. Content. Sherlock is in his thinking pose. On his back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, hands together, touching his mouth. Sherlock has a nice mouth. His lips are plump, pale pink, just begging to be licked. John tells him that. This earns him a glare but Sherlock quickly goes back to ignoring him. John slumps in the armchair and starts humming. *** Sherlock is staring at him. It takes a while for John to notice that he’s under scrutiny, seeing as he’s distracted by other things. Like the books on the table. He’s been trying to read the titles upside-down and the words he comes up with are funny and make no sense.    But now Sherlock has focused all his attention on him, and John feels a little like an insect pinned under the microscope lens. Sherlock is virtually dissecting him with his gaze, eyes slightly narrowed, a frown line between his brows. His eyes are impossibly pale, like snow gleaming in early dusk. John tells him that. Sherlock gets up, walks toward him. *** Sherlock helps him undress and then gets into bed with him, still mostly dressed himself. Sherlock’s clothes are nice. Soft. John tells him that, and a few other things as well, but Sherlock has stopped paying attention again. He seems entirely focused on the task at hand. John laughs. The task at hand. Sherlock has John’s cock at hand. It feels fantastic.   Even more so when Sherlock undoes his own trousers, pushes down his pants and presses his erection against John’s. Sherlock is looking at him again, scrutinizing every inch of John as he moves on top of him. John feels himself flushing, expanding, then melting under the stare. He reaches a hand up, running it through Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock’s hair is smooth. Silky. John tells him that.  And that gorgeous pink mouth… John touches his thumb to the corner of Sherlock’s mouth and Sherlock parts his lips, just for him. John thinks this is the happiest he’s ever been. He wants this moment to last forever, although he can already feel that it will come to an end very soon. Sherlock feels so warm. Pressing, rubbing against him. John loves it. He loves Sherlock. He tells him that. Sherlock tenses, gasps, comes, shaking against John. John starts humming again. *** “Did we have sex?” “In a manner of speaking.” As the vague memories of the events that had brought them here begin to flash through John’s mind, he attempts to come up with an appropriate reaction. “Um… Why…?” Sherlock stops tapping the keys, turns to look at him, distracted. “You wanted it. I was curious.” “Curious as to…?” “Whether or not I would like it.” “Did you?” That’s not the question John intends to ask but it comes out nonetheless. “It… wasn’t bad,” Sherlock replies carefully. John’s brain seems to start working again and he sits up, wrapping the sheet tightly around himself. “Curiosity satisfied?” John asks, looking anywhere but at Sherlock. Sherlock hesitates only a moment, as if feeling that something is not quite right. “Yes...” John nods briskly. “Good. That’s good.” He gets up, keeping the sheet around himself. Sherlock frowns at him. *** In the shower, under the spray of hot water, more clarity returns. John still feels somewhat hung over, but he can at least think properly again. For about five minutes. After that, his thoughts become fogged up by barely contained rage. Once he’s fully clothed, he finds Sherlock in the kitchen, tapping away again. John pushes the lid of the laptop shut with a snap. Sherlock looks up at him, miffed. “I was drugged,” John states. “So you were.” “You don’t find that at all problematic?” “Ecstasy induces euphoria, reduces inhibitions, but it doesn’t cause hallucinations or psychosis.”  Sherlock says it as if it explains everything. John grits his teeth.  “So?” “The drug didn’t make you want to have sex with me. It just made you admit that you did.” “And that made it alright for you to…” John trails off, shakes his head. “It never occurred to you that you should wait until I was in my right mind?”  “It was less awkward this way,” Sherlock says simply. At John’s incredulous glare Sherlock narrows his eyes. “But that’s not the reason you’re angry.” John has never wanted to punch Sherlock in the face as much as he does right now. “It’s not? Please Sherlock, enlighten me as to why I’m angry!” “You’re not angry because I took advantage of you. You’re angry because you weren’t clear-headed enough to fully appreciate it.” John thins his lips, seeing red. He knows that staying in the same room as Sherlock for another moment would inevitably lead to physical violence, so he takes the only remaining option and leaves.  As he takes the stairs down two at a time he hears Sherlock calling after him. “Go to hell, Sherlock!” he yells back, slamming the door behind him.   Outside, the biting chill of the night helps settle his frayed nerves somewhat. He starts walking with no clear destination in mind, mainly wishing to put some distance between him and Sherlock. As Sherlock’s last words to him run through John’s head again and again, he finds himself reaching some disturbing conclusions.  Things have become… complicated. More so because Sherlock was, to some extent, right. John realizes that he doesn’t feel violated. Not even close. He’s angry because once again, Sherlock has presumed to know John better than John knows himself. Sherlock had probably figured out that John was attracted to him on some level the first time they’d met. John may have been able to hide it from the world, hell, hide it from himself, but not from Sherlock. However, as good as Sherlock is at reading people, he’s not very perceptive when it comes to human emotion. Did he really think he could take advantage, use John in some attempt to figure out his own sexuality, or lack thereof, and John would be, what? Grateful? John stops at a street corner and tries to put his thoughts together. Yes, he realizes. Sherlock would think that. The man who thinks only about the game while innocent people are dying all around him, who thinks that caring about other people is useless, nothing but a weakness, would believe that by shagging John, consent be damned, he did the equivalent of giving him a treat.    The sound of footsteps, running, distracts John from his thoughts, and he turns to see Sherlock rounding the corner. Sherlock stops as he sees him, breathing hard. “I’m sorry!” he blurts. John gapes. Sherlock’s expression changes, as he seems to realize what he’s just said. “Did you just apologize to me?” John asks incredulously. Sherlock hesitates. “It would appear so,” he says in disbelief.  “First time for you?” “Quite possibly.” Sherlock looks like he’s actually trying to remember. John tries not to smile. This is… progress. “Well. You should be. Sorry, that is.” Sherlock nods. “I am. Truly.” John purses his lips and for a moment they just look at each other. “Sorry enough to buy me dinner?” Sherlock looks relieved. “The least I could do.” He smiles tentatively. John gestures toward the main street, and they start walking, shoulders brushing occasionally. He’s aware that Sherlock is sending furtive glances in his direction, and after a few more minutes of awkward silence decides to take mercy on him. “So what did you mean by, ‘It wasn’t bad’?” John asks in mock indignation.  Sherlock laughs, shakes his head. “If I say it was absolutely brilliant, will you let it go?” “Absolutely. We’ll never mention it again.” “Like it never happened?” “And no one needs ever to know.” “Well…” “Sherlock…?” “I probably should have mentioned it before. I’m nearly certain my brother has your bedroom bugged.” “You’re not serious.” “It’s unlikely he’d ever bring it up.” “How very comforting.” “You don’t sound particularly comforted.” “Good deduction.” “I could… apologize again…?” “Just… stop talking.”

Comments

[cool-tre-cool.livejournal.com]

XD Hell yeah, John on drugs and having Smex wih Sherlock... Fantastic :)

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Thank you! XD

[meia-krane.livejournal.com]

Brilliant

oh Sherlock having a bad time in accpeting/expressing out loud what ever feelings he has is always lovely

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

He's so in denial... :P Thanks!

[arianedevere.livejournal.com]

This is utterly brilliant, and I can so see it happening!

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! :D

[cozibizzle.livejournal.com]

I love it. Will there be a follow up..I'm curious as to the convo over dinner...and maybe the going home bit :p

x

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Maybe... my bet would be: Awkward dinner conversation, awkward silence upon arriving home, and then just gratuitous amounts of pr0n. :P

[cozibizzle.livejournal.com]

Sounds amazing :P I wants it XD

[how-to-shine.livejournal.com]

this is wonderful! really well written

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Thank you :D

[thette.livejournal.com]

"Curiosity... SATISFIED!!! (http://www.qwantz.com/index.php?comic=311)"

I'm glad John got an apology.

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

ROTFLMAO!!!

That comic is the best think EVER. Thank you!

[blackbirdblade.livejournal.com]

Loved it, very naughty Sherlock he'llhave to make it up to John ;)

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

:D

[i-know-its-0ver.livejournal.com]

John tells him that.

God, I loved that line. the usually-reserved John just blurting out his adoration like that is so cute.

and the scene where Sherlock apologizes? perfect.

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Thank you! :) I couldn't resist the idea of John saying silly fluffy things like these, and everyone going "huh?"

[xjill.livejournal.com]

oh, SHERLOCK. with the cute/awkward. I love it. The last line cracks me UP. As if! Ha! Nice piece.

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm happy you liked it :)

[silverotter.livejournal.com]

Oh, hello best and most true to life drug trip I've ever read in eight years of fandom, how do you do? I imagine you're doing quite well, considering how staggeringly accurate you are.

(translation: FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFAWESOME.)

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Hehehe... :D
Thanks so much! I never actually tried E so I extrapolated from other (ahm) recreational adventures. Glad it worked!

[pinigir.livejournal.com]

Love it!

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

:D Thank!

[http://users.livejournal.com/sulla_/]

mmmmmmmmmmmstilllovinitmmmmmmmmyeah

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Hehe... :P thank you dear.

[auresse]

Thanks for friending me so I can have access to your creative genius *ahem* pron.

your characterisation is brilliant!

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

:D my pleasure, and thanks so much!

[laura-trekkie.livejournal.com]

High!John has some interesting observations, though I suspect he will be mortified if/when he discovers he said some of them in front of Lestrade and various other people *g*.

Sherlock skated the edge of consent there. As he pointed out to John, the drug didn't invent these feelings on John's part, just loosened his tongue, but at the same time, the fact that it took a drug for John to admit those feelings should've given Sherlock pause for thought and made him wait until John was himself again.

I loved that he apologised and that John realised the truth of his feelings. Hopefully any future encounters will be fully consensual and all the better for it... after they've removed Mycroft's bugs, of course :).

Laura.

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Thanks for the feedback! :D

Sherlock definitely did something very very wrong here - you don't have first-time sex with someone without their full, sober consent, no matter how well you think you know them. But he did realize how badly he fucked up, which triggered the very uncharacteristic apology. It was important to me that John would recognize the apology as the big deal that it is, because the "hey, sorry I practically raped you" and "no hard feelings" part is not something that would normally work.

[nanfreak.livejournal.com]

Ah,it's E. I had no idea what that drug was. Very, very, nicely done. The piece has a short beat to it, like someone distracted and only able to instensely focus on one thing at a time. I love that you kept the tone and pace consistent through all of John's mental states. A fluffy ending?! O.o

I signed up for Rounds of Kink again. Going to write some True Blood featuring my favourite Viking. :)

[marita-c.livejournal.com]

Thank sweetie!! :D Yeah, I was kinda envious of John for his very good trip. I checked with our supplier for lab materials - if that stuff wasn't $400 per 50 milligram and required DEA approval to order and 11 months waiting period I'd totally get us some. O.o

And don't ask me what came over me - my first fic in this fandom and I write fluffy Sherlock/John where someone says ILU. I think I was possessed or something... I promise angsty unrequited Sherlock/Lestrade with torture and a bad ending for next time.

Edible Eric is edible. Does the prompt involve any torso licking?

[nanfreak.livejournal.com]

Whoa, you know, you'd get the same effect from 50mg of booze. *snerks*
Hmmm, torso licking..I'd think I'll slip some in there. To the prompt-mobile!