New story.

But I'm still working on the sequel of Swimming in blood and will update soon.

Hope you'll like it.

Read and Review, please :)

Chapter 1 – John says no.

His cold blue eyes where on John. He was standing very close. He was still a little breathless after the long chase in London's streets. He bent his head and stopped two inches away from John lips.

"Stop doing this Sherlock" John said " I already told you no." He was irritated. Since the event of the previous week, living with Sherlock had been an everyday battle. Escaping his gaze, escaping his touch was harder than ever, since the tall man had decided to drag the doctor in his bed willing or not.

"Why?" Sherlock whispered putting his hands on John's waist. The doctor grabbed forcibly the detective's wrists.

"I don't want this Sherlock, I don't!" He let go of Sherlock's wrists with a look which said don't you dare do this again.

"Why?" The tall man asked again.

"For God's sake..." John moved away from Sherlock and left without adding a word. He came back to 221B Baker street and locked himself in his room.

His room, the exact place where everything began eight days ago.

… … …

John had worked a double shift (day and night) at the hospital and was completely worn. He only wanted to fall on his mattress and sleep twelve hours straight so he directly went up his room. He had laid for a minute and a half when the bedroom door opened and Sherlock came in.

"John?" He asked softly "John, you didn't even came in the sitting room to salute me, how rude of you." John growled "I've been missing you John" The tall man said.

"Sherlock, can you miss me another twelve hours please, I'm really, really tired." John said eyes closed.

"Mmmm, no." The detective sat on the bed. John sighed.

"Please Sherlock don't be selfish..." He said opening his eyes. To his great surprise Sherlock was leaning really close to him. It was so unexpected that John didn't even think of moving away and suddenly he felt hot lips on his. His eyes opened wide. What was happening? Was he hallucinating? Had Sherlock gone mental? He felt a wet tongue running on his bottom lip and came back to reality. He put his hands on Sherlock's chest and pushed him so violently that the thin man fell on the floor.

"Bloody hell Sherlock, what are you doing?" John shouted whilst sitting on the bed.

"That's remotely what I expected John. Why did you do that?" The detective sat on the floor and looked at John with puppy eyes.

"Why did I do that? Why did...Sherlock, you assault me!" John yelled throwing his hands in Sherlock's direction in an angry gesture.

"I didn't assault you, John, I kissed you." Sherlock was perfectly calm.

"Why?" John was hysterical.

"Because I wanted to."

"Because..." John almost choked. He took a deep breath and rubbed his face with both hands. "Sherlock," he said calmer than before "what made you think I wanted you to kiss me?" He asked and Sherlock tilted his head as if he didn't understand the question.

"Because I wanted to, don't you listen?" He answered.

John took several minute to calm himself, he had to, he was about to jump out of the bed to shake Sherlock and probably punch him in the face yelling fucking silly bastard, you mad sociopath!

That wouldn't have helped.

"Sherlock," he took another deep breath "I don't want to kiss you, I don't have any interest in you, not in that way. You can't..." John looked in the sociopath's eyes "You can't kiss me like that. You can't assume that because you want something you can have it. And, by the way, where does this kissing thing comes from?" He stared at the man on the floor, waiting for a reasonable answer.

"I'm attracted to you, I'm quite obsessed by the idea of kissing you an having sex with you. It's intriguing and I want to explore the concept, understand why." He was really satisfied by his explanations, John wasn't.

"Right, let's say I understand that, only because I'm tired and I don't want to argue but there is a point really really important you've missed in your answer." He paused "You didn't even think that I could absolutely not agree to that, that I don't want to kiss you, that I don't want to have sex with you!" John was amazed by his own patience.

"Because you do like me." Sherlock added matter of factly.

"Not in that way, Sherlock." John sighed.

"Don't lie to yourself John." Sherlock frowned.

John got up and grabbed Sherlock arm, making him stand. He pushed him out of his room.

"You may be a genius but you don't know everything Sherlock, now I want you out of my room, don't come back uninvited. We won't talk about this tomorrow, we won't talk about this ever. Go down, do whatever you want but let me sleep. Goodnight!" He slammed the door to Sherlock's face. John stood there for a minute or two, stunned, then he rubbed his face, jumped in his bed and fell asleep.

When he woke up in the late afternoon, John felt dizzy. He was dehydrated. He sat on the bed and noticed he forgot to undress when he got to bed.

He went out of his room and down the stairs, he needed to drink something. When he entered the kitchen Sherlock was sitting on a chair reading the evening paper, he didn't bother to move or say anything. John put water in the kettle and plugged it. He sat on a kitchen chair and put his head in his arms with a low growl. When he finally look up, he saw a mug full of tea right in front of him and Sherlock standing close to the table. John sat straight and stared at his flatmate.

"Thanks..." He said cautiously.

"You're welcome, did you rest well?" Sherlock looked concerned.

"Well, yes, thank you." John cradled his mug.

Sherlock moved closer and tangled his hand in John's hair. The blond haired man made a sharp move to get rid of his flatmates hand.

"Sherlock, stop it." He protested standing up abruptly. His mug overturned on the table and tea splashed on his trousers. "Shit!" Sherlock grabbed a towel and took a step closer to John "Oh no you won't!"

… … …

John heard a knock at his door.

"John, I know you're in here, don't pretend you're not. Anyway I just want to tell you Lestrade called. I'm expected at the Yard in half an hour. Do you want to accompany me?"

John didn't answer, he knew his silence was enough and soon he heard Sherlock going down the stairs.

Eight days since the kiss. Eight long and awkward days.

… … ...

After the tea incident John has tried to avoid physical proximity with his flatmate. He has deserted the sofa and sat now on a chair which wasn't comfortable to watch telly but was safer. He was now taking evening instead of morning showers because he knew he wouldn't cross Sherlock's path. He also had changed his shifts at the hospital just to be outside at meal time, just to avoid eating with (or in front of) the brown man (and most of all having tea!).

That was a little too much maybe, but John felt better.

Sherlock on the other side didn't look well.

The consultant detective was completely lost. Wooing somebody wasn't in his area of expertise. He had made research on the subject but found he had made a mistake trying to kiss John that night. That move hadn't been subtle enough (no subtle at all, really). He did try to change his strategy but John was too frighten to let Sherlock touch him. Now the doctor was childishly avoiding him. Not good. Not good at all.

He was frustrated. He wanted John. He had really graphic thoughts of them in bed, touching and licking each other on various places, pleasurable places of course.

Something needed to be done, John couldn't escape Sherlock forever and the detective decided to keep on working on the doctor's shields.

He used some ruses.

He needed John to get used to him, as a man, not a flatmate so he decided to stop buttoning his shirt when he was in the apartment, put his bare feet on the coffee table or run his hand in his hair in what he thought was a seductive way every time John was watching him.

No results.

He tried to talk more to the busy doctor (who spent most of his time out working, to avoid him).

No results.

How stubborn the man was!

… … ...

John was alone in the flat. It felt strange and he needed something normal, something simple in his life right now. He picked up his phone and called Sarah.

They agreed to see each other at her place an hour later.

When Sarah saw John's face, she opened her eyes wide.

"You look awful, John." She said a soft smile on her lips.

"I feel awful thank you." The doctor answered in a breath.

They ordered Chinese take away food (yes it was Sherlock and John's food but he couldn't consider this a betrayal), and opened a bottle of wine.

They talked, mostly about Sherlock, even if John couldn't make himself mention the detective's attempts to seduce him.

Sarah was nice and compassionate. She was pretty too so John lean forward for a gentle kiss. Sarah put her hand on John's cheek and kissed him back. John closed his eyes and ran his hand on her soft short black curls...Wait...WHAT?

John broke off the kiss, backed down on the sofa and opened his eyes.

"What? What is it John?" The woman asked surprised.

"Oh...Nothing, sorry..." He rubbed his face "I...I have a lot in my mind and sometimes I just can't control my thoughts." He smiled shyly, this was a lame excuse.

"Right, it's okay, do I open a second bottle?"

"Ah...I don't think so, look I'm terribly sorry, Sarah, but I have to go. I know it's sudden, I'm sorry, I'll make amend for that." He got up and grabbed his jacket which was on an armchair. "Don't be mad at me please..." He asked with puppy eyes and Sarah smiled.

"Go away, John, see you in two days."

John needed air.

What the hell happened in his silly head? Sarah had long straight auburn hair for God's sake.

Sherlock was viciously going in his head. That was enough, he had to end this. As he walked back to the 221B, he had a lot of ideas of how to end this, but all of them included physical assault and sometimes blood. That couldn't do. So he walked a little longer just to calm himself.

Finally he came back determined to end this and erase these eight strange days from his head and, most of all, from Sherlock's head.

… … …

Angelo was a friend of Sherlock, well, sort of. So when he called to ask the detective to help him prove his cook was a thief he accepted. It wasn't a big challenge but Sherlock was bored. When he asked John's help, the doctor looked suspicious but agreed because he thought that Sherlock's mind would be entirely on the case. He was right and wrong.

They caught the cook red handed and followed him to see who was his reseller. At some point they had to run – a belligerent seller – and found themselves in a deserted alley where Sherlock tried to kiss John and failed.

Frustration.

And sadness. Sadness? How could a sociopath feel sad?

Just like that it seems. Just because of John's rejection.

Just because he refused to opened the door, refused to answer.

Now he was out.

At Sarah's.

Kissing her.

Frustration.

Sherlock was lying on the sofa when he heard the door opening and footsteps on the stairs. When the apartment door opened he saw an angry John coming in the living room and frowned.

"Sherlock you're here," he said in a controlled voice "good, I'd like to talk to you."

"Of course John, what do you want to talk about?" The detective said sitting on the sofa.

"Well..." John sighed and sat on the sofa as far as he could from his flatmate "Sherlock, I've spent the last week, the last eight days more precisely, avoiding you," he took a glimpse of Sherlock's face which was completely blank, of course he had noticed the change in his behaviour, it wasn't a surprise for him "because of the things you wanted to do to me or with me, whatever." blank face "You've spent the whole week trying to seduce me even if I told you to stop. I know avoiding you was childish but talking to you led to nothing, I had no choice." Frown, at least a reaction. "Today I talk to you because I want something from you, I want you to stop it, stop hounding me." He paused and looked in the detective's grey eyes.

"One condition." The baritone said.

"Sherlock!"

"Just one condition, and it's over."

"What? What condition Sherlock?"

"I want you to kiss me."

"Sherlock you didn't listen! I was talking a minute ago, do you know that?"

"I heard you perfectly well, John. This time you listen to me. Kiss me once, just this one time and I will know what being attracted to you means. If it's curiosity it will be satisfied. If it's more and you don't want to share it with me, I'll lock it up in a corner of my mind or erase it."

"Erase it?"

"Yes, like all the things I don't need, the things that hamper my thinking."

"Is this some kind of trick?" John asked eyes narrowed.

"What would be the trick? Your far stronger than me, I can't physically make you do something you don't want. And you claim you are not attracted to me so you won't enjoy it. All I'm asking is one kiss to help me sort this out. I need a favour here. Please."

Sorting this out, this was what John wanted most. He needed this to stop. If kissing Sherlock was the only way to end this he could do it, right? John nodded silently.

"Okay then, one kiss and it's over, right?"

"Right." Sherlock moved on the sofa to sit closer to the blond man "Shall we proceed?" he asked and John sighed.

"Have you ever kissed before? I mean, except me..."

"Of course, John."

"Okay, sorry, let's go then."

They were sitting face to face now. Sherlock raised his hand to cup John's left cheek then leant slowly closer to John. He stopped an inch away from the doctor's lips and watched his mouth intently. He heard the other man's jerky breathing and leant closer.

John was scared, did he really accept to kiss his flatmate? He had sledgehammer arguments to make him accept this but he knew something wasn't right here. He just couldn't find what. Sherlock's mouth was half an inch from his now, he was taking his time, that was not fair. John wanted this to be over. He was feeling Sherlock's breath on his face, smelling Sherlock's smell, felling Sherlock's warmth. That was almost too much to bear. He needed this to end.

"Sherlock kiss me now!" He said.

"Thought you'd never ask." The brown man said before covering John's mouth with his. He moved his hand from John's cheek to his hair and surrounded his waist with his other arm. He brushed his lips slowly, sensually and a growl escaped from John's throat.

Did he really asked Sherlock to kiss him? What was wrong with him?

He felt the brown haired man's lips on his, soft and slow, and his arm around him. That was dangerous, it was a dangerous path. Sherlock's chest against his, that felt good, that felt too good, it shouldn't feel that good. No. John growled but why exactly?

The detective ran his tongue along the doctor's lower lip then took it between his teeth. John's mouth opened, Sherlock didn't hesitate and slid his tongue inside. He reinsure his grip on the blond man's hair and waist and leaned closer, his upper body fit John's perfectly. The doctor tangled his hands in Sherlock's hair and opened his mouth wider. Their tongues duelled lazily.

John's brain was completely overwhelmed by sensations. He let them flow under his skin. Sherlock's tongue was circling his and he enjoyed it so much he allowed the detective to go deeper.

Sherlock moved from John's mouth to his jawline then his earlobe, he nipped lightly and drew a moan from the blond man's throat.

John was lost in Sherlock's embrace, his mouth was so soft, his kisses so warm.

He realised he wanted this.

He wanted Sherlock.

From scary to scarier.

John opened his eyes and struggled in Sherlock's embrace.

"Enough!" He almost yelled.

Sherlock let go of John and the blond man jumped on his feet. He was burning with anger and shivering with desire at the same time. He was burning with anger because he was shivering with desire. He forced himself to look at the man on the sofa and was shocked to see his blushed face, his dark eyes, he was breathing heavily and was obviously fighting the urge to bring John back in his arms.

"What will it be Sherlock?" he asked bitterly.

"Erase." the brown man answered in a low voice.

John stormed out of the living room and climbed the stairs two steps at a time, then slammed his bedroom door. He leant back on it and sighed. He slid down the floor and put his face in his hands.