Johnlock

Chapter Eleven

John's P.O.V.

I woke up to a lightly throbbing head, and as I sat up to glance at the clock, I was struck by what seemed like a sledgehammer to the temples. I groaned and let myself fall back into the sheets and pillows. I sighed, rubbing my eyes and grimacing at the pain, before I noticed that I wasn't in my bed. I propelled myself upright into sitting position without thinking, and was struck by a painful throb that seemed to travel all throughout my body. I pressed against my temples and winced in pain before glancing around. Suddenly, someone let out a muffled groan from beneath the sheets. My head throbbed as I struggled to remember who I'd brought back home with me this time. I snaked a searching hand along the curve of her hips and up to the end of the sheets curled around her and pulled back the covers. I snatched my hand away as soon as I realized that the woman under the sheets was in fact Sherlock. My mind reeled and I struggled to untangle myself from the sheets in a panic. I stumbled out of his bed and accidentally knocked into the wall, where I stood in shock, holding the sides of my head to keep it from falling apart into several different fragments under my fingertips. As my head threatened to fall apart at the seams, I tried in vain to recollect what had happened the night before. How was I in Sherlock's bed? Why? A quick glance downwards told me that I was half naked and only in my underwear. I caught a glimpse of my clothing strewn over the floor haphazardly and I groaned inwardly. How could this be happening? Had I really slept with Sherlock? Before I had time to contemplate this question, Sherlock writhed and let out a fierce yawn before glancing up at me through watery, half-closed eyes. I shook my head slowly, unaware that my mouth hung open in disbelief.
"John? What's wrong? Why are you-" I slid down the wall and sat roughly on the floor, eyes wide and mouth still gaping. "John!?" I heard Sherlock call out in concern. I shook my head harder and felt it throb again painfully. I struggled to stand up, one hand pressed against the side of my head and the other pushing up against the bed. Sherlock looked up in concern with his sharp blue eyes and I stammered.
"Sh-sherlock, why did-how did-did we...? I-I don't remember, please tell me t-that we didn't...end up...you know...?" I tried to force out a few more words but my throat closed up. Sherlock looked at me in alarm. He sat up and pushed himself quickly towards me.
"No, no!! I can explain, John, we didn't-I mean, I didn't let you...I just, you were drunk, a-and I had to do someth-you tried, but I just made you sleep, I swear, nothing happened! I just took off your s-shirts and you must've kicked off your jeans in the night, I didn't-we didn't do anything, honest!" He breathed in heavily, one hand outstretched towards me and his face flushed. I sighed, closing my eyes with relief.
"Wait," I said as my eyes snapped open, "What do you mean, 'I tried?' What did I try? What didn't you let me do?" I asked uncertainly as I threatened to slide back down the bedroom wall. He lowered his arm onto the bed and fidgeted with the covers in agitation.
"I-well you see, it's complicated and-" he started, but broke off hurriedly when I shot him a dark glare.
"Well?" I asked irritably.
"You may have," he began, voice trailing off to a whisper. I frowned.
"'I may have' what?" I asked again, more forcefully.
"Well, first off, you mustn't blame yourself, yeah? You were drunk, and everything is a blur and-"
"Sherlock, so help me I will strangle you if you don't tell me what happened this instant, now what did I do?!" I asked, voice raising somewhat accidentally.
"You groped me," he yelped before burrowing under the covers. No one moved for a few minutes, and all that could be heard were my heavy pants and his shallow breathing from beneath the sheets. I struggled to comprehend.
"What?" I asked incredulously. He slowly let himself rise out of the covers again, drawing them up to his ribs and clutching them tightly before answering.
"You-you came home and did some suggestive things and you may or may not have tried to take off my clothes and seduce me..." He mumbled, as he stared furiously into the ground. I swallowed hard. I couldn't believe this. I tried to seduce him? But...but...
"But you didn't actually let me do anything, right? I mean, you stopped me before it got to-well, before it got serious, yeah?" I asked hopefully, preparing for the worst.
"Of course, didn't I just tell you that I didn't let you do anything..." Sherlock muttered irritatedly. I sighed, sagging into the wall. Thank God.
"Right," I began, "Sorry about last night Sherlock, I was fully under the influence and I apologize for anything that I may have said or done," I finished tiredly. I let out a deep sigh and turned to sink back down onto the bed when I heard Sherlock mumble something under his breath.
"What?" I asked heavily.
"S'alright." I heard him mumble just a bit louder. I chuckled softly and stretched.
"Wait, how far did you let it go?" I asked suddenly, turning my hips to look back at Sherlock. He was in the middle of stretching out against the bed when he heard me, and he nearly fell off of it in surprise. He had flushed a light pink and was staring at the wall painfully.
"Why would you ask that," he answered flatly.
"I dunno, I guess I'm just checking to make sure I didn't blow you or anything," I tried weakly. I smiled thinly but he just flushed more. I dropped the smile.
"I didn't though, did I?" I asked quietly. Sherlock snorted and shot me a dark look with those intriguing eyes.
"Of course not," he replied hotly.
"Then why won't you answer me," I demanded.
He sighed and batted his eyelashes at me prettily before replying, "Because you might not like the answer." I frowned, head pulsing solftly.
"Just tell me, it couldn't have gotten too advanced," I said dryly. Sherlock nodded thoughtfully.
"You got me sprawled in a chair with my legs wide open and were unbuckling my belt before I even realized what was happening. Oh, and you also managed to stick a hand down the front of my pants when I wasn't looking." He added cheerfully. I was staring at him, first trying to think of some rational apology, second about how and why he had let it get so far along. "Along with a various assortment of other sensual, suggestive and seductive things, but that's when I ended it," he added after some thought. I was staring at him when I noticed a dark spot on his neck.
"Like that?" I asked slyly, pointing at his neck.
"What?" He asked suspiciously. He clamped one hand over his neck protectively and prodded at it gently. "Ow, yes, you did indeed give me, what I believe people call, hickeys." I bit my lip as I glanced from his neck to his face.
"Hickeys?" I asked. "As in, plural?" He nodded, then began to feel around his neck and collar bone gently.
"Yes, it seems that you decided to give me several." He prodded three other spots along his throat that I hadn't noticed were darkened from bruising.
"You let me get pretty far along," I said jokingly, although part of me felt that it wasn't such a joke.
"I suppose," he replied lightly, his small laughter strained. He glanced away and rubbed his neck. I reached out and touched him on the shoulder lightly.
"It won't happen again though, Sherlock," I said, almost warningly. He nodded understandingly and added a "thank goodness" before standing up. He walked around the bed and into the bathroom, hips swaying. His pants hung loosely around his hips and threatened to slip off of his waist once or twice. I felt my chest tighten and it suddenly became hard to breathe. Something about him just... I sighed. "I'm going upstairs to change, Sherlock." I called out.
I heard a muffled, "I've gotten us a case," from inside the bathroom as the shower started, and I headed upstairs. I gazed around my room as I entered and breathed in deeply. It was only morning and it had already been a very long day.