"John."

"Ye-Yeah?"

"You have an erection."

"Do you have to point it out like that?"

"Yes."

Sherlock laid on top of John, their chests and hips pressed together on John's bed. Lips swollen, Sherlock stared down at him for a moment before kissing him again. He felt John claw at his back, under his shirt. But John pulled away, saying, "Oi! You've got one too."

"It would appear so."

"So what now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, do we get rid of them?"

"How?"

"How?" John repeated pushing Sherlock up. He sat back and John pushed himself up. "What do you mean how?"

"There are a number of ways we could achieve an orgasm."

John sputtered a gasp. "Sherlock, do you have to be so blunt?"

"Yes. I suggest handjobs."

John bit his lip before muttering, "Just like that then?"

Sherlock put his hand over John's crouch, making the blond boy gasp again. He palmed him through his trousers for a moment before undoing the button and zipper. John started to work on Sherlock's trousers, getting them undone as Sherock started to pull John's jumper up. John let his arms go so Sherlock could pull it over his head and toss it aside.

"Wait- Sh-Sherlock," John tried to cover himself, but Sherlock moved his arms from in front of his chest.

"Shut up, John."

Sherlock slid his hand down his chest to his crouch again, pushing his hand under the red cotton fabric of his pants. He wrapped his hand around John's erection, pulling it out of his pants. But John didn't let him do anything before he pushed Sherlock's own trousers down a bit. He tried to mimic what Sherlock had done, but did so with little grace.

It was awkward, no doubt. Arms got tangled, one of them lost grip or whatever else that was bound to go wrong. Sherlock kept his free arm under John's head, holding his head up. Whenever John closed his eyes or looked away, Sherlock told him to look up at him. It took a little while, but they both got off, hips bucking wildly, hands tight around each other's cocks.

Panting, Sherlock let himself drop on top of John, his strength dwindling. But John moved him a bit to grab the box of tissues on his nightstand, mumbling to Sherlock to help him clean up. Sherlock clicked his tongue at his ruined shirt. John said he could borrow one of his.

It was the last week of May, and they had a week off from school. They spent most every day together, either at John's house or somewhere around town. Anderson had left them alone for the most part over the two months. He came back from suspension and just gave them dirty looks.

They weren't a secret at school anymore. No, Anderson had told anyone who would listen that they were dating. But of course, Greg didn't let Anderson get a bad word out about it, even if Mycroft sometimes had to drag Greg and Dimmock away so they didn't push Anderson down a flight of stairs.

Greg and Mycroft often accompanied John and Sherlock when they went to the cinema, sitting behind them and snogging while Sherlock made deductions about the actors and characters in the movie. Later that week in May, though, Sherlock and Greg had gone to the bathroom, leaving Mycroft and John on their own.

The older boy was much taller and definitely more intimidating. He had reddish brown hair, like Sherlock had, but darker than his brother's. He was quite handsome, which wasn't a surprise. John had seen a picture of their parents. Their mother was lovely and their father good-looking.

"You know," Mycroft said, his arms folded over his stomach lazily. "I haven't seen Sherlock this happy in years."

"Really?"

"Really. He usually gets bored with whatever project he's working on and moves onto the next one within a few days."

"I'm a project?" John blinked. Mycroft looked down at him.

"What? No, that's not what I meant, John."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I mean..." Mycroft took a breath, trying to dig himself out of the hole he found himself in, "I'm surprised that he's so dedicated to you."

"Oh." John bit the inside of his cheek. "That doesn't help, mate."

"Sorry."

Greg and Sherlock walked back, Sherlock looking pissed. Greg was chuckling like a mad man as they walked, resulting in Sherlock shouting at him to shut up.

"What trouble are you causing now?" Mycroft said wtih a sigh. Greg just giggled.

"Nothing." Sherlock hissed.

"Sherlock wanked in the stall."

"I did not!" Sherlock shouted. "I didn't want to urinate in front of him."

"Its alright, Sherlock." John chuckled as Mycroft put his arm around Greg's shoulders. "He's just being a dick."

"Can we go to the morgue now?" Sherlock huffed.

"Another time, Sherlock." Mycroft said. "Its getting a bit late."

"Sherlock, would you like to come over for dinner?" John asked, smiling.

"No thank you."

"Oh. Well, alright."

"I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Alright."

Sherlock watched John's face drop, and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Another time."

"Its alright." John said, blushing.

"Come on, Sherlock." Mycroft said. He gave Greg a kiss goodbye and the Holmeses took their leave.

"I'll walk you home." Greg said, putting hand on John's shoulder for a moment.

"Thanks, Greg."

"Not a problem, kid."

The walk was quiet, until John cleared his throat and said, "Do you ever wonder if- if Mycroft gets bored of you?"

"No." his answer was immediate as he shook his head. "No, I don't."

"Oh. Never mind."

"Fancy a milkshake?" Greg offered, pointing to a restaurant they were passing.

"I haven't got cash."

"I'll pay." Greg grinned. "I got paid at work yesterday."

"Well, alright."

They went inside and sat down in a booth, the red leather groaning as they did. The waitress came buy and Greg ordered two chocolate milkshakes as well as a plate of fries.

"So, how come you wanted to know if Mycroft got bored?"

"Something he said is all." the younger boy muttered, sitting stiffly. He had his hands folded in his lap. But Greg was leaning on the table top, playing with the sugar packets.

"Don't listen to Mycroft. Half the stuff he talks about is nothing but rubbish. And if you're worried that Sherlock will get bored of you, don't."

"But-"

"Listen to me, John." Greg insisted. "He really likes you. I can tell and I'm no genius. Hell, I'm not even very smart at all. But I can tell when a guy's crazy about another guy, and he is absolutely head over heels for you. Even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes, trust me, he really is."

"So you don't think he'll get bored of me?"

"Its been how long now? You two got together around Christmas?"

"Right before, yeah."

"Its May so that's five months?"

"Yeah."

"So shut up, because he likes you and you like him and that's that."

Greg stopped talking when the waitress brought them the two milkshakes and fries. John thanked her, and Greg muffled a thanks as he was already filling his mouth. John chuckled as the waitress rolled her eyes and walked away.

"Oi, you eat a lot." John muttered.

"You will two when you and Sherlock start shagging."

John blushed. Greg laughed and took a drink of his milkshake.

xxx

"I'm bored."

John looked at his boyfriend. He was sitting beside him on the couch, watching a movie. Well, John was watching. Sherlock was shouting at the characters.

"Well, what do you want to do?" John asked.

"I don't know. Anything but watching this incessant movie."

"Incessant?"

The brunette huffed. "Unpleasant, unenjoyable."

"Alright, I get it. Well, what would you like to do?"

"Let's go to the morgue?"

"And do what?"

"I want to see how hard it is to break the bones of a cadaver."

"Oh. We could ask Mycroft if he'd take us."

"No, he won't take us. He's out with Greg today. We have to sneak it."

"Wha- Sherlock, we can't sneak into a morgue!"

"I've done it before."

John bit his lip for a moment, staring at him. Sherlock kept his eyes on the TV, though, for a moment longer before looking back at John. He said, "I have."

"I believe you."

"Are you coming?"

"You're going?"

"Of course I am."

"What if you get in trouble?"

"I won't. Are you coming or not?"

John hesitated. On one hand, he wanted to be with Sherlock. On another, he didn't fancy getting into trouble because he broke into a moruge. His mother would have his head on a platter.

"No." he saw Sherlock's eyes widen for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I'm not going."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not going to risk getting arrested for one of your experiements."

Sherlock stared at him. John didn't break eye contact until Sherlock exhaled sharply and stood up. "Fine. I'll be off then."

"Sherlock-"

But Sherlock didn't stop walking to the door. He opened it, walked out and closed it behind him. He didn't slam it, but he didn't have to. John knew he was upset, and he was upset too. He didn't want Sherlock to be angry with him, but he had to stand up for himself.

Even if it left him dreading the result of their first fight.