"This is a great example of how that big brain of yours gets you into trouble, Sherlock" expressed John as he cleaned the latest wound Sherlock had acquired.
This time it was Sherlock fault, he wasn't to know that outing one of the Russian drug gang members was going to cause such a fuss. Sherlock's arm had been slashed as he defended himself from the violent criminal. Just a small defensive wound, no hospital required as Sherlock has stated at the scene. There was no arguing with Sherlock when it came to injuries, all John could do was bandage him up and send him on his way. After the daily ritual of tea and the promise of a well deserved sleep John left Sherlock to dwell on the outcome of the last case.

"Moronic imbecile, I'm going to have limited mobility in this arm now. How am I going to complete experiments or play my violin for the next few days?" muttered Sherlock towards the skull on the mantel piece. With that he collapsed backward onto the sofa and slept in what look like a rather uncomfortable position.

A shooting pain woke Sherlock up; he had rolled on to his arm during the night as was paying the price for it. With a grunt he heaved himself up into a sitting position just in time for John to come into the room with morning tea and toast.

"How is the invalid, this morning?" asked John with a slight smile.
"Bored" he retorted. Standard really, with a bad arm it was unlikely that the walls were going to escape the raft of a bored Sherlock. Especially an injured Sherlock.

"John, I hate to ask this of you... but I require your assistance to help me in the shower" Sherlock almost whispered staring at the groves in the floor. He has never in his life asked for help, he almost felt embarrassed he could feel his cheeks reddened at the growing silence that hung in the air.

Sherlock's request had truly surprised him. He assumed Sherlock would at least try to work though the pain of his arm, he never fought that Sherlock would even ask John anything like.
"Uh, um sure. If you need my help because of your arm, I don't mind helping you out mate. Just say the word and I'll be there" John responded.

"Oh, well perhaps now. Get it out the way?" suggested Sherlock in an effort to get this done and out the way.

John followed Sherlock into the bath and set about turning the shower on and getting a couple of towels ready. A sudden though hit John; he had never seen Sherlock naked before. He seen naked men in the army of course, but this was different this was Sherlock. Sherlock his best friend, Sherlock the virgin. Was John the first person to see Sherlock body, ever? By Sherlock's obvious discomfort from asking for help, he assumed so. John didn't know whether to feel pleased about Sherlock wanting him to do this or worried. Sherlock comment broke John's little daydream over the subject.

"John can you wash my hair for me, I'd rather not get these bandages wet." Sherlock gestured to his arm while attempting to wet his body. John couldn't help but stare after the man. He was gorgeous. There was no other word in John's limited vocabulary that could describe Sherlock's pale toned body. John just followed after him like a lost puppy.

It became apparent that this task at hand was being hindered by the fact that John was on the outside of the shower cubicle while Sherlock was inside.

"For goodness sake John, come in here. It's taking too long for you to attempt to reach over the bath. Plus I'm worried about your shoulder, it's slightly more slumped than the other indicated it's hurting you, so please for the both us just get in here" snapped Sherlock.

With that John processed to strip off his jumper, shirt, socks and trousers until it was stood in a dark pair of boxers (he was glad he had not chosen to wear his red pants this morning). He stepped into the now tightly pack cubicle and continued to clean Sherlock.
'I still straight. Washing another man's body is not gay. Oh god, since when did he have these muscles? Stop it John. You his friend and his doctor, just helping him out'. John chanted over and over in his head while continue to wash the soap bubbles off of Sherlock's body.

There was silence in the shower, nothing needed to be said at this moment.

Sherlock turned around in order to let John continue when he observed John. He was aware he was staring at John's neck but he couldn't help it but see his pulse rate quicken, he had acquired small beads of sweat just under the hairline and to top it off Sherlock note the dilation of John's pupils.
Sherlock tried to think why John was behaving like this, could it be the heat from the water? Or was John feeling claustrophobic in this crowded cubicle? Or could this behaviour be because Sherlock was currently standing in front of John naked, with the spray of the water running over his body? It couldn't be John was straight. Straight, straight, straight. Or maybe about as straight as a roundabout right now.

Sherlock's staring was just making this situation worse.

"John, I thought..." Sherlock choked on the rest of his sentence. "Don't, Sherlock. Just don't." John warned in a low commanding voice. Staring a head into John's eyes, Sherlock pushed forward ever so slightly. Just to see what John would do. Nothing apparently. Sherlock continued to move forward pushing himself up against John's body.
If John was straight, why was his body betraying him? Aware of both of their arousals stirring, neither of them dared to break eye contact. John still had his hands on Sherlock hips; the task of washing him had all but been abandoned. This was slowly becoming a mind game, of who was going to make the first move, be it to walk away or to push themselves onto the other.

Looks like Sherlock was going to have to make the first move for the both of them. He inched his face closer to John's. He could almost taste the distinct brand of tea John has drunk that morning. Gradually Sherlock lightly kissed John. A single kiss. Which turned into another single kiss.

"Sherlock. I'm not... I'm not gay Sherlock", John quietly protested.

"John please. I need. I need you" Sherlock grunted back.

This response was all John needed; he still wasn't gay, just making an exception for Sherlock.
John pushed back to capture Sherlock's lips once again, there was nothing nice about this kiss, it was hard and bruising. Almost to fierce to be seen as a non- loving gesture. John hands became tangled in Sherlock's curls while Sherlock wrapped one arm around John's waist to pull him closer, pushing their bodies together even more. Sherlock was pleased with the moans he was pulling from John. All blood flow was going south and fast. Sherlock pulled away in order to drop to his knees eager to please and entertain John. John's pleasure was more important than his. He needed to show John how great this could be.

Before John had a chance to get his breathe back, Sherlock had pulled down his remaining boxers and was already sucking his cock, with John's pre-cum hitting his taste buds he began. The action was too uncoordinated and clumsy, but John didn't have the heart to tell him. However Sherlock was learning from John's moans how he liked to handled.
With one hand working the base of John's cock, Sherlock suckled the tip while gradually running his tongue under the shaft, against the vein. Sherlock moved his hand so that he could play with John's balls at the same time. Sherlock's confidence was improving, taking a leap of faith he deep-throated John.
That was all John needed as encouragement, with hands tangled in Sherlock's dripping hair, he thrust into Sherlock's mouth trying to more friction.

"Sherrr... Gonnna... Cum" gasped John.

He came in Sherlock's mouth with water from the shower still spraying them. Sherlock much to John's surprise swallowed every drop of John's seed, milking him dry. Sherlock rocked back on his heels to face John. Then it hit John about the consequences of their actions. With a muttered 'Sorry', John pulled up his wet boxers and practically ran out the bathroom leaving a shocked Sherlock behind.

This is my first Sherlock FanFic, comments and advice would be much appreciated! :)