Ring the Bells

“In here!” Sherlock called to me, over his shoulder as he headed towards a pub on the corner.

I ran after him, trying to keep track of him in the early evening. There were plenty of revelers out on the street, spreading their Christmas Eve cheer. I dodged a caroling choir or two on my way into the building Sherlock had disappeared into. As I passed into the pub I noticed the telltale rainbow flag by the door. “Um, Sherlock…” I tried to get his attention before he made the discovery himself, but he was too intent on our goal. Inside I came up beside him, catching my breath.

Sherlock looked stunned for a moment, taking in the room full of men paired off together. With a cheerfulness I knew to be fake he made his way to the bar and ordered two drinks.

I sat down beside him and took the drink the barkeep gave me. “Now what?” I asked, sipping at my pint.

“Now John… we pretend to belong in here. We’ve come here for a drink and some flirting. Keep your eyes open to anyone who may be watching us rather too intently.” His voice was low and he leaned in close to give me some clue as to his plan. “I just made a joke so you should laugh and lean in closer.”

I let out a nervous laugh and he gave me one of his hard looks.

“You don’t take stage direction well.”

“Oh! You meant the charade we were doing… very well.” I gave a flirtatious chuckle and leaned in.

“You needn’t be so gleeful about it.” He finished the statement with a small laugh and a warm hand rested on my thigh. “You find my hand welcoming so take it.”

Clumsily I reached out and took my partner’s hand.

“For a bisexual man you certainly are rather bad at this.”

I opened my mouth to protest and he leaned in to kiss me. Our teeth nearly clashed together as his tongue invaded my mouth. He didn’t move it, just held it there as if it was to play some part in this game. Helplessly my tongue rolled over his and he gave a soft grunt before acknowledging it with his own tongue. In a few seconds he pulled away, his mouth still open and tongue visible to any audience we had acquired. They would think it was a real kiss. In fact I wasn’t entirely sure it WASN’T a real kiss. He leaned in again, his face close to mine. “Quick, who can’t take their eyes off of us?”

I grew aware of the video camera in the corner of the room. It had swiveled at our entrance and the lens refocused on us. “You mean besides your brother?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Besides Mycroft.”

“Why does he have a camera in a gay pub?”

“Focus, John!” Sherlock hissed.

“There’s a man by the restroom and another man over by the dartboard wearing a father Christmas hat.” I replied, glancing at both to ascertain if they still watched us.

Sherlock got up from his barstool and pulled me out onto the dance floor. His hands rested on my waist and my own hands went to his shoulders. Why was I letting him lead? We circled around so Sherlock could look in the direction I had been looking. We swayed together for a while as I tried valiantly to calm my nerves. His kiss had unbalanced me, even though it had been done as bait for his prey. I leaned my head on his sternum trying to regain control of my body. Rather suddenly I felt Sherlock’s hand slide down to my backside and clutch it.

Thankfully I didn’t jump too much but pushed myself against him to stifle my shock. “What are you doing?” I hissed against his chest.

Sherlock bowed his head to mine. “The man near the restroom isn’t interested in me. He’s after you. That’s why he was staring… pure arousal. My grabbing your arse made him very happy.”

“And the other man?” I whispered.

“Still assessing him…” Sherlock replied, resting his cheek on the top of my head as his hand returned to my waist, holding me tightly.

“Why did you say I was bi?” I asked quietly.

“You obviously like women too.”

“Too?”

“I knew the moment we first talked about my sexuality. That’s why I turned you down, so you wouldn’t be confused as to what was expected of you as a roommate. At the time I wasn’t looking for a lover. Ah! He’s our man.”

“At the time…?” I echoed.

“Forgive me, John. I must go flush out our quarry so the Lestrade can have a go at him.” Lightly he kissed my forehead and pulled away to approach our target.

I watched the ensuing scuffle and chase until they both left the pub. I had just allowed Sherlock to manhandle me for the sake of a case. It was embarrassing, but I couldn’t deny that it was also rather stimulating.

The man at the restroom approached me in Sherlock’s absence. I shook my head no and casually paid our tab before strolling towards the door to see how the detective inspector was getting on with the scuffle. It was over by the time I got there.

“So…” I said as I strolled back down the street with my roommate.

“I’m sorry I got you excited, John.”

I didn’t even bother to ask him how he knew I had been excited. I had been slow dancing with him so it was natural he knew. “It’s alright, Sherlock.” I answered.

“If you’d like some time alone, I would understand.” He stated after some thought.

“You kissed me!” I turned to him, flurry rising in me.

“I did.”

“You won’t apologize for it?” I asked.

“No. Besides… you enjoyed it.” He continued on.

“So did you!” I shot back.

That stopped him. Spinning around he looked back at me. “There was mistletoe above the dance floor.”

“I’m not talking about the dance floor, Sherlock. I’m referring to the part with the tongue.”

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but shut it when he noticed the black car that pulled up beside us. Hunching his shoulders he tried to hurry along.

Mycroft stepped out of the car and smiled at me. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock stopped with a look of annoyance. “Every year we go through this and every year I refuse.”

“Things are different this year.” Mycroft stated simply.

Sherlock spun around and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “How so?”

“The family wishes to meet your boyfriend, Sherlock. It’s such a rare thing, indeed a once in a lifetime occurrence. The doctor should be properly introduced.”

“But I’m not his…” I began.

Mycroft turned his gaze at me. “Perhaps I would believe you if I hadn’t just seen my brother snogging you in the bar. In PUBLIC, Sherlock.” He directed the last statement at his brother. “For Mummy?” Indicating the open car door, he waved an invitation. “Dinner is in three hours.”

With a hopeless sigh Sherlock stormed to the car like an obstinate child and got inside.

“Doctor…” Mycroft smiled at me, inviting me in. I slid in beside Sherlock. Finally Mycroft joined us. “They will be pleased to see you… after all it’s been how many years since you’ve been back there?”

“Five.” Sherlock stated solemnly.

“How long has it been for you, Dr. Watson? Your family being gone?” Mycroft sounded almost gleeful.

“Don’t!” Sherlock commanded sharply, glaring at his brother.

“A few years since my parents… And Harry is usually busy so we meet up after the holiday.”

“Ah!” Mycroft whispered as if it was the most important detail. We all three then lapsed into silence until we reached the private airstrip.

“We’re going by airplane?” I asked, staring up at the private plane.

“Dinner is in less than three hours, Dr. Watson. We must make haste if we wish to be there.” Mycroft followed us up the stairs. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Sherlock’s family was well connected and could afford a private plane. Or perhaps it was Mycroft’s.

“This is Mycroft’s.” Sherlock answered without my even asking. He sat down and resumed his stony silence.

I looked between the two brothers. Christmas was obviously a very thoughtful time for both of them. Our flight was short and we landed on another private airstrip. A car sat, waiting for us on the tarmac and we were swept away to what looked to be a charming house in the country. “This is where you grew up?” I asked Sherlock in surprise.

Sherlock glanced out the window. “Ghastly, isn’t it?”

I shook my head at him and tried to make out details in the dark. The car door was opened and I got out. “It’s big.”

“And boring…” Sherlock muttered, heading towards the house.

Mycroft handed me a potted plant. “Go along with him, doctor.”

I caught up with Sherlock just as he opened the front door. “Hello? It’s Sherlock.”

“Sherlock?” A woman’s voice queried from another room. All at once an older woman entered the hallway. Her eyes visibly brightened as she saw what I guessed to be her long absent son. Placing her hands on his cheeks she kissed him and then hugged him.

Sherlock looked lost as to how to react and I almost laughed.

“Mycroft… thank you for bringing him, dear.” The woman greeted Sherlock’s brother. Then she turned her attention to me. “You must be Dr. John Watson.” Her eyes looked me up and down and I had a feeling I was being deciphered with her look.

I presented her the plant Mycroft had given me. “Happy Christmas.” I smiled, hoping that was the proper reaction.

“Thank you, doctor. These are lovely. Come along. You must be seeing father, Sherlock.”

It seemed that a small number of the Holmes clan was gathered for Christmas Eve. I saw no children, but there seemed to be a maiden aunt and a feisty uncle. Sherlock didn’t offer me any clue as to who they were exactly and for the most part he seemed contrite.

“So tell us about yourself, doctor.” The man I understood to be Sherlock’s father asked me at dinner. The rest of the family turned their attention to me and I felt a blush seeing so many eyes upon me.

“I… um… that is…”

“Don’t fall for it, John. They already know all about you.” Sherlock finally spoke up. “This is a little game they like to play. What they don’t already know from Mycroft they figured out when you first walked up the pathway.”

I looked around the table at the expectant faces. “Just humor them.” Mycroft suggested.

“I’m a medical doctor. Shortly after I completed my residency I was sent to Afghanistan. I worked at a MASH unit along with some yanks. So I was near the front. Then I was shot.” I took a bite of my food, aware that they were all staring at me. I swallowed. “And I was sent back home. Now I live with Sherlock and help him when I can.”

“You’ve lost a part of yourself in the war, doctor?” Sherlock’s father stated more than asked.

“Most soldiers do.” I responded. “It’s hard not to when you’re trying to put back together a kid who shouldn’t even have been out there on the line.” I stabbed at a potato and placed it in my mouth to chew. I was aware that I had dampened the mood of the entire table. Swallowing hard I cleared my throat. “Sherlock tells me you make a delightful pie, Mrs. Holmes.”

Mrs. Holmes blushed. “I do. But I doubt he called it delightful.”

“He said it was very good.”

“I baked one for tonight’s dessert.” With the change of subject conversation once again resumed around the table.

Eventually it got very late and Mycroft, Sherlock, their father and I were the last at the table. Mycroft and Sherlock were arguing with their father acting as a referee. Finally Sherlock got up from the table. “We’ll resume this in the morning. Come on, John, it’s time for bed.”

I got up, bidding our hosts goodnight as I followed him up the staircase. “Bed? You mean we’re staying over?”

“It’s a bit late to go back and I’m tired.” He yawned a bit and walked down the hall to a bedroom. “Inside.” He flicked on the switch.

The room looked like a messy person had lived in it before but their things had been tidied up by some well intentioned person. “Your room, I’m guessing?” I asked, watching Sherlock rummage through a drawer.

“Used to be… Mum keeps it in case I ever decide to come back to the family nest.” He found an old cotton shirt and started to undress.

“I wasn’t prepared for an overnight visit.” I told him, trying not to look at his body.

Sherlock rummaged through the drawer again and pulled out another shirt. “Here.” He finished dressing and turned down the large bed. “Turn off the light before you come to bed, will you?”

“I’m to sleep in here?”

“Do hurry up.”

I turned off the light and got ready in the dark. Carefully I went to the side of the bed he wasn’t occupying and got in.

“Why complain about a kiss if you enjoyed it?” Sherlock asked quietly.

“What?”

“In the pub… afterwards you complained.”

“I just wasn’t expecting it, I guess.” I responded. “I wasn’t expecting the intimacy. You told me once you are married to your work.”

Sherlock made a chuckling sound. “You’ve been part of my work for a while now. I share it with you.”

“And it is rather odd… after so many people assuming that we are a couple. From the moment I met you… I’ve never had my sexuality picked on THAT much.”

“Mmm…” A noncommittal sound escaped him. “You’ve only ever been with women.”

“Yes… exactly.” I said.

“I haven’t been with anyone.” Sherlock admitted.

“And yet you don’t like women.”

“Can’t stand them.”

“And men?”

“Maybe the right man…”

I lay there silent for a time.

Sherlock’s breathing was slowing, deepening. I thought he had fallen asleep. “Here.” His voice startled me. His hand reached down, using his fingertips to explore the front of my body, finding their way into my shorts.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What do you think I’m doing? You’re an experienced man, you should know.” His warm hand wrapped around my dick and I felt it respond immediately to his touch. “I should probably experience this at least once in my lifetime before I condemn it.”

“Why me?” I gasped. His touch was very good.

“John? I need you to give me a hand.”

I reached down, my hand diving into his underwear. I found him hard. His skin was silky smooth and warm in my touch.

“As I suspected… it’s much like self pleasure… so far not living up to its reputation.”

“It’s not about the act, Sherlock… sure it feels good but it’s about the person you’re with. If you’re with someone you want to share yourself with it is fantastic. Plus there are other positions to make it so much more intimate than masturbation.”

“Show me.” Sherlock demanded, pulling his hand away and pushing down his underwear. His shirt soon followed and he tugged at mine. “Show me… please. John?” He amended his plea, knowing how much I liked a simple please or thank you.

“It starts… like this…” I leaned in and brushed my lips against his. Then I opened my mouth to his, our tongues rolling together. He let out a grunt and I pulled away, trailing kisses under his chin and around the side of his neck. I wrapped my arms around his back, pulling him against me.

“Yes… that’s good.” Sherlock muttered. “Lips are very sensitive… and warm breath on the body is very relaxing.”

“Must you analyze it?” I asked, licking his collarbone. “Don’t think about what I’m doing. Think about the fact that I’m the one doing it to you. It’s me breathing on you, licking you. Do you like it?”

“Mmm…” He answered.

I continued to kiss him, rather pleased at the feeling I was having. Hard assed, stoic Sherlock was at my mercy for once. It was rather amusing.

“What else, John?”

“Well… the act of love making is because your body wishes to join with the other… to become one. For straight people it’s a whole lot easier. Gays and lesbians have it tougher since their body parts don’t hook up as well.”

“I’m sure you could improvise.”

I got up and moved down between his knees. Carefully I lifted his thighs and pressed our bodies together, our dicks pressed between us. I began to give him my own rhythm. “This is the position a man and woman would take… the man thrusting into her.” I ground my hips against his. “There are many positions… but it’s mostly hips grinding against each other.” I leaned down and kissed him again, invading his mouth. “Then there’s this position…” I shifted, straddling his waist. “This is a good position for getting a good view of your lover and all their facial expressions.”

Sherlock was staring up at me in the darkness. Helplessly his hips tried to move against mine. It seemed I had awakened some need in him.

“And, of course, there’s doggy style… a primal sort of position that doesn’t require eye contact.” I dismounted and lay beside Sherlock. “What do you prefer?”

Immediately he crawled on top of me, pulling up my thighs onto his as he started to grind against me. His breathing was hot and heavy on my face. “But this isn’t yet how two men hook up. This isn’t real sex.”

“Your dick would need to go into my ass.” I told him simply. “And it’s going to hurt.”

Sherlock growled in frustration. He reached out to the nightstand and pulled out an old tube of lotion. It was interesting to note that he at least knew himself if he had kept that within arms reach. Hastily he squeezed it out upon himself, before tossing the tube away. He slathered it out upon his length and then eagerly pushed the tip down towards my ass.

It hurt. By god, it hurt! It was my own fault for making him so desperate that he was having trouble controlling himself. I tried to relax. “Sherlock… slow down, I’m not used to this.” I whimpered.

Regaining control of his composure he slowed to nearly a standstill. His lips sought out mine as he slowly moved into me.

“How does it feel to be completely inside someone else?” I whispered warmly against his lips.

“Good…” He admitted. “Very good.”

“You’re inside ME.” I reminded him.

“John… I know EXACTLY where I am.”

He pulled out a bit and pushed in again, bumping into something that made my softening dick perk up. “Oh god… I think you just found my prostate.”

A smile touched his lips as he began to establish his own rhythm. It was much like mine but a little slower. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “This can’t be all that comfortable for you.” He stated, pausing a bit.

“It doesn’t matter.” I told him. “I’m sharing myself with you. I trust you won’t intentionally hurt me. That’s all that matters.”

“This is real for you then?” Sherlock hesitated.

I caught my breath. My heart plummeting. I had forgotten how careless he could be. “Very real. How can it not be when you’re…” I reached out to his face, cradling his head in my hands. “Sherlock THINK about it. This is a very intimate act. It’s not to be taken lightly. Too many people in the world try to take it lightly but I don’t. Do you understand?”

He bowed his head, resting his forehead against mine. Slowly he resumed his motions, driving himself into me. Finally he finished, gasping for air as he collapsed on top of me. I could feel his semen, warm and wet within me. “You’re right… it is fantastic.”

Faintly in the night the church bells rang for midnight mass.

“Happy Christmas.” I whispered.

^.~

The next morning I woke alone. After making my way to the private toilet to clean myself off I got dressed and headed downstairs. I found Sherlock and Mycroft in the kitchen, hovering over cups of coffee. Without looking at me Sherlock passed me a tea pot and a cup as if by habit.

“Bit of a rough night, doctor?” Mycroft asked with a smile on his lips as he sipped his coffee.

“Not especially… No. Slept like a log.” I replied.

“My dear brother didn’t keep you up too late, did he?” He asked with some surprise.

“Not too late. No. It was a pleasant night.” I yawned a bit.

“Except the part when he shagged you.” Mycroft chuckled.

I nearly spit out my tea.

Sherlock cast his brother a dark look. “I would thank you to keep your video cameras out of my bedroom.”

As I watched Mycroft and Sherlock begin round two of the heated debate they started the previous evening I wondered it if was really worth it, being Sherlock’s loyal companion and friend. The more I knew about him the less I thought of him as weird. He was just different and perhaps a little misguided, not having had the benefit of real friendship for most of his life. Mycroft seemed to have won the battle and sauntered away, leaving a rather frazzled Sherlock at the counter next to me. His hands were shaking and I set my hands down next to his, our pinkies touching. It was a small gesture of reassurance. That seemed to steady him and he gave me a small smile of what I often interpreted as thanks. Worth it? You bet it was!