State to State - 3.4

No matter what Emily might have thought about Sherlock resuming activities, he was sure John would no longer be in the mood.  And maybe he wasn’t particularly in the mood either as they picked through Sherlock’s closet, realizing the mechanic wouldn’t fit anything there.  Sherlock was left waiting by the door in his bedroom, eavesdropping on the conversation John was having with Emily.

“Do you have any pajamas I could borrow for the night?”

There was the familiar whine of the bottom drawer of novelty boxer shorts and even further novelty sleep pants, along with Emily’s laugh.

“You mean until you move some of your clothes into his extra dresser?”

There was a further laugh from Emily and a slight sigh from John.

Sherlock expected the embarrassed face when John came back in the football helmet pants and the oversized shirt promoting a hardware company.  It wasn’t particularly sexy, but neither was his plaid pants and threadbare Beatles sweatshirt.  Attraction to John was maintained through whatever outfit choices, no matter how ridiculous he looked now.  The very presence of the mechanic in his bedroom made Sherlock almost giddy.

Almost.

The mattress shifted as the man slowly sat down, laying back and taking Sherlock’s hand in a single movement.

“You can stop laughing at me now, Sherlock.  I know I look nothing like the whatever you were willing to have sex with this afternoon.”

Being reminded of the matter of their near relations on the couch was the signal for Sherlock to explain the particulars of his situation.  There was so much fear surrounding that moment of either John running away or finding some way to accept Sherlock into his heart.  Or hopefully, but not likely, John would just understand him.

“If we’re going to do anything further, there’s some things you need to know about me.”
John turned to him, leaning on one elbow to ask, “Isn’t it a bit early in our relationship to talk about kink preferences?  You haven’t even found out if I’m good enough to be more than a one-night stand.”

It took Sherlock a moment to recognizing the teasing in the man’s voice, helped by the smile that followed the statement and the lips he liked so much.

“I mean I’m not exactly – I’m trans and I don’t want you to react badly to that.”
“So you have different things down stairs.  Why would I react badly to that?”
“You’re not surprised?”
“I’m smarter than I look, Sherlock.”

The smile returned with Sherlock’s confusion about John.  He often found the modern world to be more unwelcoming than the secret clubs and societies of an older London.  Women who pretended to be men for advancement and women who became men through realization had been apparent in Sherlock’s world.

Still a sin but not quite as shamed as culture seemed to show now.

“Oh, don’t look at me with such shock, honey.  I got a bit of a clue when you were grinding against me and there was no pressure coming back.”

This piece of evidence hadn’t occurred to Sherlock even as John slowly broke down his own deduction.  Sherlock quickly glanced over the memory, having forgotten just how much he was grinding against John's thigh.  It was the sort of situation where Emily might have used the phrase, "Like a bitch in heat."  He was fortunate enough to have accessed modern magical health care, so the "heat" part was no longer present.  But the thought of being John's "bitch" was a dirty idea to be occupied with during the long hours at Save-A-Lot.

"What are you thinking about, love?"
The usage of the word love surprised Sherlock and he stumbled through a short response.
"Oh nothing, really."

He felt a lot of things for John Mason and love was chief among them.  And the potential of this kind of love made him dizzy.  Sherlock could feel the looks from John as he was sure he was blushing by this point and leaned even more awkwardly against the pillow.

John rolled closer to Sherlock, lightly pressing the lips Sherlock so loved against his cheek, and carefully placing an arm over his waist.

“If it’s nothing, then why are you staring off into space?”

Sherlock started laughing again, trying not to but when he looked up to the ceiling, the feeling just couldn’t be held in.  Emily had an expanse of plastic, glow in the dark stars up above and around a portion of the wall.

“Sherlock?  Did I say something wrong?”
“No, John.  It’s just that if you had looked at the ceiling, you would see that we are literally staring into space.”

The bed shifted and creaked as John turned over to look up at the black and white ceiling.  Their hands were back together with the grip turning tighter and tighter.  Sherlock could feel his knuckles going white from the pressure, but he loved the presence of John in his bed so much.  Just being able to hear someone lying beside him, breathing, and not intending any harm – it was nice.

Emily used to be that person.

But obviously John was going to go farther.Sex with Emily hadn’t happened for six years and sex in general had been stale for two years.  The year spent in Cumberland was empty and Lefair had moved on to a new type of torture for the year before that.

“We don’t have to do anything, you know?”
“But you want to do some things and you want to have that at the moment.”
“What I want at the moment is you.”

Sherlock was pulled from his position to be laying atop of John’s chest.  The grip was still comfortable even if the tightness was unnecessary.  He slowly relaxed once again, pushing the thoughts aside and enjoying the moment while he had it.  Even if he had doubts whether John would want him in the future or not, Sherlock could accept being wanted for now and through the morning.

He could hear all of John's mumblings and felt himself going to sleep from the sweet sounds.  The mechanic's worries about one thing or another were interrupted by the words, "I love you, Sherlock."  John's soft snores resumed as the phrase ended, not noticing Sherlock going rigid in shock and deciding that he would not be getting any sleep that night.