Author's Note: Ohey, guise! Sorry I took so long to update the second part of this oneshot D: I'm a bad author. But here it is! Mostly porn, some fluff, a little bit of humour. Also, my plan is to have chapter 6 of "Savin' Me" up by the end of this week. You have permission to kill me if it isn't. So enjoy this chapter and review and such :D I love you all!

Disclaimer: nope.

John stirred slightly in his sleep as he heard someone calling his name and hot breath brushing over his ear. He had been dreaming of Sherlock dragging him along on one of his stupid cases that he'd acquired from a client. It had involved an awful lot of running and ducking down into alleyways. Why did his flatmate always insist on him following him around like a dog? Though, admittedly, he did choose to go a lot of the time…

"John!" A baritone voice hissed whilst a hand shook him.

Suddenly he was fully awake. He snapped his eyes open to see the young detective standing by his bed, holding a handful of what seemed to be John's clothes. Sherlock dropped them by John's face and then turned to head toward the door. With a sigh, John put two and two together and hastily dressed so to not keep his flat mate waiting. He wondered exactly what Sherlock wanted and stood in the middle of the room for a moment, feeling dazed.

"Are you coming or not?" The detective asked from the doorway, sounding impatient.

"Not just isn't an option with you. So tell me what we're doing."

Sherlock didn't answer and left the room, leaving John with no option but to follow suit. As they stepped out of 221B onto Baker Street, almost instantly John was drenched. He hadn't noticed the rain when he was in the flat and suddenly cursed Sherlock. It was pouring down and John got the feeling that he would be running around in it momentarily. His flat mate must have read his mind because in a flash, John's jacket was being pulled on and he was jogging down the street toward an alleyway. A moment of déjà vu passed through him, instantly reminded of his dream.

"Sherlock, where are we going?"

The detective continued to ignore him like earlier and then turned right. He was still holding onto John's arm and so upon turning so sharply, the force caused him to crash into the brick wall of the alleyway. He cursed and then realised that Sherlock had now stopped running and was slowly padding over to a nearby fire escape. Beginning to feel very frustrated, John followed and ended up climbing the fire escape where he and his flat mate sat together in a comfortable silence for a moment.

Sherlock spoke first. "Client case. Woman suspects her partner is having an affair. That flat across from us is hers. She has organised to go away for a few days, convinced he will take advantage of that time and spend it with his lover. She claims that he invites his lover over when she leaves for her night shifts every Friday. Obviously. We are to sit here and wait for her to arrive and then get evidence."

"R-right…" John cleared his throat. "Um, okay. Good… So, we're basically going to watch live porn. Right."

"There's no need to feel embarrassed, John."

"I'm not embarrassed!"

"Well if you aren't embarrassed, the idea has aroused you. Do you deny it?" Sherlock smirked.

"Yes I bloody do!" John huffed, lying through his teeth. "And why do we have to do this while it's pissing down?"

John had forgotten about the down pour whilst Sherlock had been dragging him down the street until now, actually. He was soaked through to the bone, but the additional rain wasn't even noticeable because of it. He was very cold, though and would make Sherlock pay for this later. Stupid bloody detective interrupting his sleep in and hauling him around in the rain…

"You are annoyed with me," Sherlock stated bluntly.

"Well done, Sherlock!" John cried sarcastically. "Would you like a gold sticker?"

"John,"

"How on Earth did you notice that? I wasn't even being obvious!"

"John, please,"

"Was it the fact that I was complaining? Or I'm irritable?"

"John, shut up!" Sherlock hissed. "His lover is here!"

He instantly turned his attention toward the flat's window. Sherlock was right. The man's lover had obviously just arrived as they could clearly be seen with the woman's husband. It was very cliché; kissing near a window where nosy neighbours could easily see. The man's lover had her back turned and so John couldn't make out what she looked like, but noticed her hair was cut rather short. She also had quite a stocky build.

"Wow," John whispered. "The husband clearly likes butch women."

"It's a man, John." Sherlock answered.

His eyes widened. "What? But you can't even… How do you…"

"As always, John, you see but don't observe," the detective sighed. "It's clearly a man. Yes, you noticed the short hair and stocky build, which makes you assume they are a butch woman. But you didn't notice the fact that they are wearing men's pants, have no signs of breasts and dark hair on the back of their neck. Even with a flat chested woman you can still always see a faint outline on her sides."

"Okay, so you're telling me that he's gay?" John was very confused. "But he got married to a woman! I don't understand!"

"You're apparently straight and have engaged in sexual relations with me," Sherlock declared.

John knew he had a point. It had been three weeks since the night Sherlock had crawled into bed with him and they hadn't done anything else since. John was way too nervous and confused to do anything else with the detective and Sherlock hadn't asked him about it or made any passes. They had continued on with their usual routines of running around London for client cases and or sitting in the flat together drinking tea, watching crap telly and eating takeaway.

John turned his attention back to the scandal across from him and Sherlock. The two men (John still couldn't get over that) were now kissing quite passionately and had started to undress each other. The client's husband had turned him and his lover slightly and they were now side on, allowing John to clearly see that it was indeed another man. As the husband started kissing down his lover's chest, John felt an ache producing in his crotch and blushed.

"You are aroused," Sherlock pointed out rather smugly.

"Shut up," John answered gruffly. "What do you expect? We're watching two men get it on!"

"I thought you weren't gay,"

"I'm not!" John exclaimed desperately. "I swear it! I never have been! I don't know where these feelings are coming from!"

"Just relax; there's nothing wrong with it," his flat mate murmured, leaning against him.

Sherlock then gently rested his hand on John's thigh, inching it closer to the tell-tale bulge in his crotch. Alarmed that his flat mate was being so public, John quickly stood up and jumped away from Sherlock. What did he think he was doing? Somebody could easily see them and they were supposed to be working on a case. The detective drove him mad sometimes, truly and utterly. Speaking of the man, Sherlock had now made his way over to John in a single step.

"You've been thinking of that night for weeks," Sherlock stated bluntly. "You've been too nervous to try it again because you are now unsure of your sexuality. You masturbate over it every single night; I know you want this."

"I do not!" John lied, blushing.

"Please, John," the detective scoffed. "You always get up at exactly the same time each night – just after midnight – to go to the toilet. Mrs Hudson has complained that she has been washing an awful lot of your underwear lately. Oh yes, and the big giveaway; I hear you moaning my name."

John was speechless and felt ridiculously embarrassed. Before he could think of a good response, Sherlock's fingers had weaved into his hair and John found himself pinned against the wall. It was raining only lightly now in soft sprinkles, making it somewhat romantic. A slick tongue lapped at his bottom lip and without thinking John allowed the detective entrance, rewarded with a moan. Sherlock's movements were fervent and dominant, almost desperate and full of need. John tried to give as good as he was getting, but his flat mate seemed determined to be in charge. Abruptly, John found his arms held above his head being held against the wall and his wrists held in a firm grip. He whimpered at the loss of power in protest, but then changed his mind when the detective broke away to kiss his neck, nipping and licking at his Adam's apple.

"Sher-Sherlock, ah…" John moaned. "Please, I need to touch you; let me go."

He felt his flatmate loosen his grip and John reached down to cup Sherlock's face, pulling him closer. His fingertips were curling around thick mounds of hair at the back of the detective's head quite tightly and John could hear Sherlock making small sounds of discomfort. He quickly let go and transferred his grip to the collar of his flat mate's trench coat. Sherlock still had John pressed quite hard against the brick wall and abruptly released some of the pressure. John felt the detective tugging at his belt and gasped both sexually and anxiously.

He pulled away. "Sherlock, we can't do this here!"

"Why the hell not?" Sherlock whined.

"We are in a public place! Plus, we are supposed to be on a case!"

"Fuck the case,"

John was taken aback; Sherlock never intentionally cursed. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Fuck the case, John. Didn't you hear me?"

"No, I heard you… You never… Wow,"

"John, if you refuse to engage in sexual relations with me here, can we please go back to the flat?" Sherlock pleaded.

The detective looked desperate. His eyes were wild and full of lust and his grip on John's belt was incredibly constrictive. John could feel Sherlock's erection pressed into his stomach; it was like a solid tent pole. He couldn't deny his own arousal, which had been standing at full attention for a good twenty minutes now and gently pushed his flat mate away. He looked surprised and tried to take a hold of John.

"We can't fuck here, Sherlock," John smirked, surprising himself.

The detective growled and tugged him down the fire escape, suddenly making John extremely nervous. Why did he say that word? Why couldn't he have said anything other than a word that means to have sex? Why? He wasn't even sure he wanted to do that with Sherlock; the idea honestly scared the shit out of him. He had no experience whatsoever in that area and was certain that Sherlock didn't either.

They were jogging out onto the street now, and Sherlock had taken John's hand, pulling him along at a fast pace. They reached the flat in record time and John found himself almost thrown against the living room wall and then his lips being hungrily attacked by Sherlock. Barely able to think, John hastily weaved his fingers into the detective's hair and pulled him closer, biting his lip. Sherlock moaned loudly and sexually and John could feel his hands beginning to undress him. First his jacket was discarded, thrown carelessly across the room, and then his shirt unbuttoned quite swiftly.

John didn't think it was fair that Sherlock was having all the fun and so he quickly applied all of his strength so to turn his flat mate around. The detective let out a muffled yelp that sounded surprised, but didn't protest. John then slid his hands over Sherlock's arse and hoisted him up, discovering that he was actually quite light. His flat mate reciprocated by wrapping his thin legs around John's waist and grinding their crotches together. He moaned into Sherlock's mouth and ran his tongue over his flat mate's gums and teeth.

John broke away, breathless. "Bedroom?"

"Please, John," Sherlock responded with lust filled eyes.

John closed the space between them and re-captured the detective's lips, walking blindly in the direction of Sherlock's bedroom. A few times they crashed into a wall, and Sherlock would hold John as close to him as possible to the point that John couldn't breathe properly. By the time they reached the bedroom, John was deeply, deeply aroused. He dropped his flat mate onto his bed and stood before him, slowly removing his shirt. The detective responded by leading forward and placing a trail of open mouthed kisses down John's muscled chest, stopping at the waistband of his jeans.

"Ugh, Sherlock…" John whimpered, tugging his curls.

In a flash, the detective pulled John's jeans and underwear down to his knees and gently ran his fingers over the very prominent erection between John's legs. He moaned softly and then dragged his fingers over Sherlock's scalp as his flat mate ran a tongue over him. Just as he was getting really caught up in pleasure, John realised that he was doing nothing for the detective. Very gently, he pushed Sherlock away with a reassuring smile and lifted him to lay him down on the bed. Nervously, John unbuttoned the detective's shirt and leant down to trace his tongue from Sherlock's neck down to his bellybutton. John's flat mate was moaning helplessly by the time he reached the top of his trousers and he himself was a bundle of nerves.

"I've never done this before," he murmured.

"I don't mind!" Sherlock insisted desperately. "Please, John! I beg you!"

Taking in a deep breath, John undid the button on the detective's pants and slid the zipper down. His flat mate was wearing satin boxers and so his erection was jutting out in a tent-like figure. With a surge of courage, John slid them down Sherlock's legs and watched as his cock sprang free. He closed his eyes, curled his fingers around the base of Sherlock's shaft, and stuck his tongue out slowly, swirling it over the crown. John felt the detective arch his back off the bed slightly and tug on his hair with a small whimper. Smiling, he took the detective in his mouth and gently slid down, trying to take in as much as he could.

"Oh God!" Sherlock cried out. "John!"

John bobbed up and down for a while, trying to move in the ways women had done for him. His flat mate was moaning quite loudly and so he figured he was doing a good job. He gave one more suck and then let the detective fall from his mouth, watching as he sat up on his elbows, looking wildly turned on. John kicked his pants and briefs off completely and then worked on Sherlock's, throwing them over his shoulder in a pile on the floor.

John cleared his throat nervously. "Sherlock… I want to… You know… But I've never… What do I do?"

"Well, I imagine you don't want me to penetrate you, so would you like to penetrate me?" Sherlock seemed completely fine with this.

"Don't use that word!" John said embarrassed. "I don't think I am ready to be completely in control… What if… What if you were on top? Like, straddling me?"

"If that's what you would like,"

"Do you know what to do? I'm clueless, sorry…"

For the first time ever, the detective blushed. "I uh… I have some lubricant in my dresser… And I assume you would have condoms?"

John got the picture and quietly got off of Sherlock, heading in the direction of his room. Knots were beginning to form in his stomach from nervousness. He had never had sex with a man before, nor had he ever even thought about it, so he had no idea what he was supposed to do. He hoped that Sherlock being on top like a woman could be would make him feel more comfortable and enjoy it.

Upon retrieving the condoms from his bedside table, John made his way back to Sherlock's room where he found him sitting cross legged on the bed with a tube in his hand. John began to feel nervous again and stood there awkwardly for a moment, watching his flat mate. Remembering to breathe, he climbed onto the bed, barely conscious of the rubber in his hand and pressed his lips to Sherlock's. He could feel himself shaking with anxiety, but then instantly relaxed when his flat mate took a hold of his free hand and laced their fingers together.

John broke away. "Tell me what to do,"

"Well…" Sherlock was blushing again. "You need to er… Prepare me… Have you er, ever had to use lubricant with a woman before?"

Realisation came over John. "Oh… Yes, I have. Okay, so I have to do that."

"Is that okay?"

John wasn't entirely sure if it was, but he knew he wanted to make love with Sherlock and if that was what he needed to do, so be it. With a stiff nod, he gently laid the detective down and knelt in between his knees, holding the lube. Sherlock bent his knees and widened his legs for him to make it easier and with a nervous breath, John applied the gel to one of his fingers and gingerly slid it into his flat mate. Sherlock was tight around his finger, almost too tight, and he saw the detective screwing his face up in pain. Guilt swept over him and he shifted himself so he was able to place a gentle kiss onto his flat mate's sweaty forehead.

"How much does it hurt?" As a doctor, John was feeling a bit too concerned.

Sherlock exhaled slowly. "Not as much as you think… It's just really tight,"

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," the detective shook his head. "I'll be fine once I adjust."

John brought their lips together and slowly began to move his finger. Sherlock squirmed beneath him, worrying John, but he knew it would get better for him. When the detective seemed ready, John spread some more of the lubricant onto his fingers and applied the same method, stretching Sherlock's opening as gently and slowly as he could. His flat mate was moaning now, softly calling his name, and John suddenly felt more than ready to do this with Sherlock.

"Are you ready, Sherlock?" John whispered into his neck.

"I think so,"

John sat up momentarily to roll the condom onto his shaft and then coat it with the lube, watching as Sherlock moved his position so he was able to climb on top of him. He laid down and the detective straddled him. Sherlock didn't make any moves to start the love making, just leant down to kiss John fervently, nipping his lower lip. John tangled his fingers in his flat mate's hair and jerked his hips up.

"Ready?" Sherlock murmured.

"Oh God, Sherlock, I need to fuck you now," John whimpered.

His flat mate raised himself up and took a hold of John's cock, positioning himself over it. John watched as Sherlock very slowly lowered his body down and suddenly he was inside of the detective. He had to moan. The feeling of being inside someone again was absolutely incredible. John had missed the tightness around his member and how the constriction always made his climax instantly grow near.

Sherlock had started to move now, and any pain that he had been in before had apparently subsided, for he was moaning ridiculously loud. John couldn't deny that it felt amazing for him, too. In fact, he was sure it felt better than being with a woman. The detective was so tight around him and the friction was better than any sex he had ever had in his entire life. He felt a moan slip from his mouth and turned his head into the pillow, beginning to sweat.

"John, I'm…! John!" Sherlock shouted.

John was taken over by white noise. "Sherlockkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk."

He felt himself hit a spot inside Sherlock that he was sure was his prostate and detective whimpered sexually. John was getting close now, as was Sherlock and he thrust his hips in time with his flat mate's. Reaching out, he took a loose hold of Sherlock's leaking shaft and rubbed at it, barely able to concentrate. The detective was riding him hard and fast now, causing stars to blur his vision. Abruptly, he heard the faint sound of his name being cried out and then hot liquid spilling onto his abdomen muscles.

"Ah, fuck!" John grunted.

He felt his body start to spasm violently and then his climax took over, dominating his entire body. Sherlock was still moving against John as he orgasmed, but was clearly exhausted and was just sort of rocking with him. John felt himself spill into the condom and gripped the bed sheets tightly, arching his back. His orgasm started to subside and he opened his eyes to see Sherlock resting on his chest. John reached out and ran a hand through the detective's mass of now wet curls.

"You alright, Sherlock?" he breathed.

The detective let out a satisfied hum and crawled off of John to curl up beside him. In a few swift movements, John peeled the condom off and tossed it onto the floor, mentally reminding himself to pick it up later. Now, he gathered Sherlock up into his arms and kissed his cheek fondly, his eyes fluttering in exhaustion.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I definitely feel love for you." He whispered. "Yes, yes I love you. I do, John. I love you."

John had to chuckle. "Alright, calm down; don't overdo it. I love you too, even if you are a bloody nuisance. I have for a very long time, I think, just didn't know what to do about it. But now I do. I will always be here, Sherlock Holmes. You mean everything to me. I was so alone, and I owe you so much."

After a few minutes, he still hadn't received a response and glanced down. The detective had fallen asleep; bloody typical. Smiling with a sigh, John encircled his arms around Sherlock and closed his eyes. Sherlock bloody Holmes…