Johnlocked

Paris Part One

Only the beginning is sketchy :) (: like super sketchy. Like oh my- okay that's happening 0-O. PS in Britain they call underwear pants, and actual pants are called trousers. The chapter is written in third person but mostly from John's side. There were a lot of things that I wanted the reader to know that Sherlock was thinking, though, so I tried something new. When a word is italicized like normal it's just italicized, but if a whole paragraph is italicized then that means that it is in Sherlock's view. I'm sorry that it took so long to upload, I've just had a heck of a lot going on. A parentlock fic is coming next, and then it'll be part two of Paris and then a special somethin' that I'm cooking up that will just rip your hearts out!
Enjoy!

Sherlock's lips trailed down John's throat, across the chiseled muscles of his chest down to the v at the bottom of his abdomen. He paused and the fire in the coils of John's stomach screamed for attention. Sherlock's cerulean green eyes peered up at John from under his lashes. One of those seductively handsome eyebrows raised in question and John released a moan of desire. He wanted to scream for Sherlock, he needed him. John let out a whine as teasing fingers skipped across his skin and softly touched the band of his pants.

John silently begged Sherlock with his eyes, wanting, needing relief from this wonderfully painful agony. He wanted Sherlock to do what he had done so many times, to give him that overwhelming and releasing pleasure. Sherlock tugged his pants down tantalizingly slow, making John release a whine of impatience. Finally his clothes were off and his throbbing erection was placed within reach of Sherlock's tantalizing Cupid's bow lips. The detective bent down once again and John clutched the sheets in anticipation of the delicious feeling of that beautiful mouth around his-

"John!" Sherlock's voice demanded loudly. The door swung open and light flooded into the room. John let out a noise of surprise mixed with a few colorful curses as he sat up in bed with a start. His heart pounded and his eyes were wide. He panted, unable to believe what the hell he had just been dreaming about. His face was beet red and he clutched the sheets around him with white knuckles. He felt like his skin was burning and he knew that underneath his blankets he was hard as a rock. He prayed that Sherlock wouldn't notice; that by some miracle he would just not deduce him for once.

"Sh-Sherlock," John tried to catch his breath and appear somewhat normal. He looked at the detective and the hazy image of those eyes looking at him seductively as he ran his long fingers all over John's body made his knees feel like jelly.

"We're going to be late," Sherlock said, his eyes scanning John and taking in his disheveled and startled state. Damn him, John thought. He probably knew that John had just been dreaming about something sexual in nature. Sherlock probably didn't care, though, being the machine that he was.

"Did I... frighten you?" He asked, his eyebrows raising in surprise and disbelief at such an idea.

"N-no I just... Late for what?" John desperately changed the subject. Sherlock eyed him, his brow furrowing in confusion.

John looked extremely flustered and Sherlock wondered at what could possibly be wrong. His eyes were wild and they darted around nervously. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights or in the sights of a deadly predator. 

"Your wedding," Sherlock said, drawing the words out slowly as if purposely dumbing down his speech for the shorter man. John groaned and fell back in his bed, covering his face with his hands. He couldn't believe that this was happening. It must be just cold feet manifesting and fixating on the only other person he cared deeply about. This didn't mean that John was in love with Sherlock. It wasn't like this was the what? Fourth time this had happened this week? But it was. And it all terrified him.