Howard Phillips

Sherlock was out of it for half an hour but, while John was tempted to take a nap, it was just too early for the doctor to rest again so he entertained himself by letting his fingers wander over Sherlock's back and arse. He made the tentacle retract fully to have more room for his explorations. Now, the mark he had left on Sherlock's shoulder was standing out harshly against the detective's pale skin. It made him feel ridiculously proud of himself for claiming the genius that was loudly snoring upon him. He pressed his nose into dark curls and reveled in their softness and smell. With great care, he closed his arms around Sherlock and rolled them over so he was on top of the sleeping man. Sitting back, he regarded the sweaty and sticky body before he decided to get a wet towel to clean them both up.

Sherlock stretched languorously when John returned to the bed. Gently, the doctor crawled over him and rubbed the towel over Sherlock's chest and down between his legs. Already having himself cleaned in the bathroom he discarded the wet cloth and leant down to brush a feather light kiss right below the detective's bellybutton. Sherlock opened his eyes lazily, watching with interest how John positioned himself on his thighs. He had often imagined such a domestic situation. While he was actually interested in sex in general, especially if it included one short, blonde army doctor, it had never been of uttermost importance to him. Moments like this, quiet intimate ones, held a strong appeal to him because they had always been so very hard to achieve for him. Not with John though, never with John.

Sensing his line of thoughts, the doctor gave him a small smile.

OK?

Sherlock considered the question. Both of them had issues with intimacy. Big, obvious issues. And even though they were close from the very beginning this was something else entirely.

"OK." He nodded thoughtfully. He knew that he wouldn't have to be careful and polite with John. If it would get too much he could just say so but right now… Well, right now he was more than fine.

With an indulgent grin, Sherlock crossed his arms beneath his head and gave John a challenging look.

"Could be better."

Oh! John raised his brows prompting him to go on.

Without further explanation, Sherlock grabbed his right arm and pulled him hard down against him and rolled them around. Straddling John's lap, he took hold of the doctor's hands and pressed them down onto the mattress at either side of his head.

"If you want to control my tentacles while we are being intimate that's fine but never, ever do that under any other circumstances." Sherlock said, his voice deep and provoking.

"I think I should make use of your permission fully then, if it is so limited."

John emphasized his answer by pushing his hips up against Sherlock and rolling them in a slow circle to let them both feel the delicious drag of skin on skin.

"I wouldn't be opposed." Sherlock stated with a rough voice as his eyes fell close. John felt him push back, the detective's hip bones brushing his belly every now and then as he felt his cock harden at the smooth rhythm they were building.

Sherlock's arousal began to press insistently into the space between his thighs and pelvis and John could already hear him panting loudly above him. He was sure this would never lose it's novelty. Just when he felt the need to press up harder and a bit faster Sherlock froze above him. Surprised eyes looked down into his.

"The world is shaking!" John could feel a deep embarrassed blush spreading over his whole face at the sheer corniness of the statement.

"What?" He asked in disbelieve.

"I mean it!" Sherlock's tentacle's slowly pushed out of his back and stretched to the sides, filling John's vision once again. Sherlock nodded at them, signaling John to take a closer look at them.

Now he noticed the tiny ripples going through them and the minute shaking of their tips. It only lasted half a minute and then it was gone. John didn't know what to make of it and he didn't have to as Sherlock resumed their pleasant activity.

Four tentacles wound themselves around their hips, pressing them harder against each other while still allowing their hips to move.

"John." Sherlock sighed into his ears, upping the pace.

John let his hands slip from Sherlock's hold to close his arms around his back.

"Yes." John agreed to the situation as a whole. The detective raised his arms to firmly push them against the wall, giving John more leverage.

God….

John already felt the first signs of orgasm build in his belly and his mind go blank. Sherlock's labored breathing indicated the detective to be in a similar state and made him decide that it was ok to let go. He crossed his legs behind the detective's thighs and rutted hard against him, chasing completion while mumbling incoherently.

"Fuck, yes, I…Christ, that's.." The rest was drowned out by Sherlock's thought's pressing into his head and filling his consciousness.

Don't stop. Don't…"Ahhhh."

At Sherlock's low timbre groaned into his hair, John's body tensed forcefully. Grabbing the detective's back hard and pressing his forehead against the detectives shoulder, he came wetly between them.

John's head fell back against the bed when Sherlock rolled off of him. For a few seconds they just lay there while their breaths got back to normal.

The detective began to squirm uncomfortably before he dipped a finger into the mess on his cock and made an annoyed face. Without further explanation he got up from the bed and vanished in the bathroom. Immediately, John heard the water run in the shower.

Narrowing his eyes, he replayed the last minutes.

SHERLOCK?

There was no immediate reaction. Rethinking his discovery he sat up resting his feet on the wooden floor.

Just as he made to stand up to follow Sherlock into the shower, the world shifted beneath him in a most awkward way and he sat back hard. This time the shaking was closer to an actual earthquake and john tried to remember how much time had passed since the earlier one. He heard their mugs and plates clink in the cabinets before a distinctive Thud! made him worry and rush into the bathroom.

The room was filled with steam but John still managed to avoid the bottles and tubes that had fallen from their medicine cabinet and now cluttered up the floor. He almost stepped on a razor when he saw Sherlock sitting in the bath tub looking embarrassed and frustrated at the same time. Swallowing the laughter that was threatening to overcome him he held out a hand for the detective to take.

"Did you hurt yourself?" He asked seriously.

"Only my pride." Sherlock stated, letting himself be dragged up and not even attempting to help.

"Ok. Good. That was the second one. They are not a good sign, I take it?"

Definitely not. "I am not sure."

Sherlock?

"What?" Fuck! The detective stepped on a toothbrush as he took his towel from the hook at the door.

"I think we are still evolving." John stated, pointing a finger at his head before touching Sherlock's temple with it. The detective froze in front of him. Towel hanging forgotten from his hand he asked himself if John really meant what he thought he did.

"Yes." The doctor sighed, taking the towel from his hand and beginning to dry Sherlock's hair with it. He had to strain his arms but somehow it gave him a sense of control. The detective's face was impassive for the time it took John to dry his body completely but as soon as John was done Sherlock pushed him to the side and stepped from the room.

"We definitely have to do some experiments on that." He muttered to himself. Rolling his eyes, John decided to take a shower as well. He was sure that Sherlock had already forgotten about him. He knew he should have been offended but he was so used to Sherlock's behavior that he found he didn't mind one bit.

When John crossed the living room to get some clothes from his room, Sherlock lay motionless and stark naked on the couch. The doctor couldn't stop himself from taking a blanket and placing it over him. Less out of worry for his health then for Mrs. Hudson's.

Having dressed in a pair of boxers and a white shirt he walked down the stairs when he heard the doorbell ring. He ignored it, knowing all too well that their landlady was more than happy to answer the door but as soon as John heard Lestrade's voice being carried up the stairs his attention was picked. In a hurry he collected his trousers from the floor of Sherlock's room and put them on.

Sherlock! Come here and put some clothes on!

He heard the detective sigh in fake boredom as he made his way through the kitchen. Thanks to Mrs. Hudson's talkative nature Lestrade was only now climbing the stairs. John opened the door to let him in, a strong wave of guilt rushing through him at the sight of the DI. It wasn't that he was looking different to any other time they had met but with John's knowledge about what he'd done to him, he just couldn't help it.

"Come on in, Greg. Can I get you something? Tea? Biscuits?" The DI looked at him suspiciously until he understood.

"Ah. Sherlock has told you, hasn't he?" He asked untroubled.

"Yes, yes he did. And I am really sorry. I hope you know that I never meant…"

"It's OK. Don't worry. I know you'd never do anything like that on purpose." The DI said, reassuringly placing his hand on John's shoulder. "I am already used to them and, in fact, I think they changed my life in a very positive way." Lestrade grinned inwardly.

"So, how is my brother then?" Sherlock asked bluntly, interrupting them harshly as he stepped into the parlour.

"Fine. Very good, indeed, Sherlock. Do you want to know in detail? You know I could tell you, we have been quite busy…"

"Oh, stop it. OK you win! But never ever talk to me again about…This." Sherlock's face was scrunched up in a childish display of disgust but John could say that he was just playing his role. The DI grinned satisfied, taking a seat on the couch as John motioned for him to do so.

The doctor couldn't contain his own amusement as he sat down on his chair with a wide smile.

"So, how can we help you?" Sherlock asked, coming to stand beside John's chair and placing a hand in his neck. Lestrade's eyes flicked from one to the other several times before he relaxed into the couch and nodded to himself.

Well, that's settled then. John thought, pleased at Sherlock's possessive gesture and the DI's reaction.

"Nothing important. Just this…" He said, rummaging through his coat pockets until he found a crinkled letter and held it up. "It's apparently Howard Phillips' last letter to his wife. I wanted to hand it to her but the nurses said she still isn't stable enough to be confronted with his delusions. I thought you'd be interested." In a flash, Sherlock held the letter in his hands and began to tear it open.

As he read it, he began to chew on his bottom lip. John and Greg exchanged a worried glance before they made to stand on either side of the detective and began to read as well.

Dear Sonja,

first of all, let me tell you that I am very sorry for leaving you out of nowhere. I didn't plan my sudden departure but when I found out that I had to do it the next day there was no time to explain everything to you. With "it" I mean the ritual I performed mere hours ago. I have finally found R'lyeh and, even though I can hardly explain what I saw, I will try to make you understand. You know how long I have been obsessed with the location of this ancient city. Years ago I already narrowed it's location down to Japan but that it was here in Shikoku came as a sudden realization over me as I studied my manuscripts for the umpteenth time. I knew where to go before I arrived, having seen the water reservoir online. And there they were. The stone steps with the gaping hole in their middle. God, I can't even begin to explain my excitement as I saw them for the first time. I had prepared to explore the darkness beneath them and immediately climbed down using the rope I had taken with me for that very purpose. You can't imagine the thickness of the centuries old air that enveloped me as I was dangling on the rope like a shark's bait. My torch didn't do much to scare the darkness away but it helped me to orientate myself. After a few minutes, I reached the muddy ground. Still I wasn't able to see a thing. I had to walk into a random direction for what felt like an eternity until I saw a wall in front of me. Cautiously, I followed turns and takes. Looking back, I am sure that I must have walked in a big circle for there never was a hole much less a door in the wall. But the daylight from the opening between the stairs had just ceded to exist at some point. The air seemed to get cold and wet in my lunges the longer I stumbled around until, at some point, I saw a wooden opening on the ground in front of me. You can probably understand that I questioned my senses at this point. I knocked and scratched on the wood making sure that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. But it really was a trap door I had just found. Carefully, I pushed my fingernails into the small chutes at it's sides and pressed them hard into the rotten material. There was no handle or even a small opening to take a hold of. I felt scales of wood piercing my fingertips but I couldn't let go. The thought of my hands being occupied longer than necessary in this burdensome darkness frightening me more than anything else. I bit down hard on the torch between my teeth and closed my watering eyes as I summoned all my strength and opened the trap door enough to be able to push a foot into the opening.

Holding the torch in shaking hands, I opened it fully and was surprised to see a narrow stairway leading even deeper below the earth. There is no word for the averseness I felt when I took the first steps downwards. The stairs were irregular and frankly dangerous. I knew if I slipped my endeavor would be over before it had begun. But, if by miracle or destiny, I didn't fall. Every now and then I noticed drawings on the walls to might but I couldn't make out what they were meant to depict for most of them was already destroyed. I still wonder how old the drawings were but I don't think anyone will ever see them or even have a chance to analyze them. Not after what I've done.

I don't want to bore you with my never ending descriptions of the hours and hours I was descending the stairs towards my goal. Eventually I reached flat ground. It took me absolutely of guard. At this point I was walking as if in trance, not thinking or seeing anything at all anymore. Falling to my knees, I reverently touched the dry earth before I took out the small statue I had brought with me and held it up. Hysteria came over me as I began to sing the old chants I had memorized years ago in preparation for this day. I don't expect you to understand why I did it but know that I had every reason to call them back. If you have studied my notes and manuscripts you can probably see that they are so much bigger and better than us. And the thing about nature is that only the strong and powerful deserve domination on earth. It was my duty to restore balance in the world once again. I don't know how long I was singing until I heard a deep growl answering my chants.

The floor shook beneath me and a cold wind suddenly howled in the hall. It must have been bigger than I thought, judging by the echo that was surrounding me. I heard grinding, dragging noises that came closer and closer. In fear, I pointed the torch at the direction of the noises and, at first, I thought there was nothing to see but the movement of dirt in the wind but then I saw. Don't think ill of me just because I won't describe what my eyes had to take in for my mind was not able to process the monstrosity that was nearing me. I only remember blue-ish grey skin and the way things seemed to move between it. I pointed the torch here and there but every place was filled with moving flesh drawing in on me.

When the first bit of it touched me, I felt the air leaving my lungs in a rush and distantly heard the glass in the torch burst. Something wound itself around me, scratched and bit my arms and legs and started to drag me around.

I must have lost consciousness at this point because I don't remember the sunlight touching my face as I was being pushed to the surface once again. But that is where I woke up a few minutes ago.

You would be very worried if you saw me just now, love. I look devastated. There are more scratch marks and bite wounds on me than one man could count but I am going to spare you the ugly details. You only have to know that there is a light blue liquid oozing from my wounds and, after I saw or were unable to see, what mankind has to expect soon, I decided to be gracious on humanity. I will throw myself into this water. I already feel myself dissolve from the inside out so don't be angry at me for not coming back. There was never a possibility for my return to begin with. But what I am about to do will prepare you all for the inevitable.

Don't hate me, Sonja. I am doing the right thing. I am sure of it. And if my dissolving body is having the effect on the world I expect it to you might soon understand. The time has come. The ground will open up to release what was long forgotten and that is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange æons, even death may die.

I love you Sonja and I know we will meet again in a different life.

Love,

Howard

Silence filled 221b for minutes after each of the three was done reading. Lestrade swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. John had walked back to his chair and sat down heavily in it. He hid his face in his hands, thinking about the implications of Howard Phillips' last words.

Sherlock was pacing up and down, rereading the letter over and over again before he stopped dead in his tracks.

"It's beginning again." He said to no one in particular. Lestrade nodded and took a seat on the floor. John furrowed his brows at him when he felt the first tremor in his feet.

Oh.

Grimacing sadly he signaled for Sherlock to come closer. The Detective walked cautiously and knelt down in front of him. The earthquake's intensity grew and grew. Outside people began to scream, car sirens clung loudly being triggered by the commotion. And in the midst of it there was a noisy fracturing which seemed to get closer and closer. John watched a crack appear in the ceiling above him before he looked down at Sherlock who knelt in front of him and held his hands with an expression of defeat. Outside, the rupture passed them by with a deafening crash before the earth stood still again.

With great care, the three men got up and walked to the window overlooking the street. Surely enough, Bakerstreet was split in half, a huge crack running through it's middle. Lestrade didn't remark on the sight of his car hanging halfway down into a slope. He was sure that he had bigger problems at the moment. While they all stared outside, the silence was broken by the sound of Sherlock's phone. Without looking at it, he picked up and raised it to his ear.

John recognized Mycroft's voice but couldn't understand the words. After a minute Sherlock only said "Alright." and hung up.

Expectantly, John and Greg stared at him.

"My brother will be here in five minutes. The Helicopter has four places left. Go and get Mrs. Hudson." He ordered looking at John with an indefinable expression on his face. John nodded at him and moved to the door but came to stand just before the threshold.

I love you, Sherlock.

"I love you, too." The detective said without turning around before he heard John making his way downstairs.

Lestrade looked at him but didn't ask if he had missed something. There was enough lying ahead of them that he would have to accept as a part of his reality, now.