This was the night. The night John was taking Sherlock on an official date. John was nervous. Extremely nervous. He'd bounce his leg, play with the sleeve of his shirt, get stains from sweat, and rub his hands on his trousers. The worst part was, he wasn't even at the restaurant yet, he was still in the cab. Him and Sherlock would be arriving separately because Sherlock had something important to take care of. John had a million thoughts running around his mind at once, and they were all about Sherlock. He has never liked a man like he does Sherlock, in fact, who was he kidding? He loved the bloody man with every bone in his small, little body. He just confessed his feelings no later than a week ago and he stayed at Greg's place until yesterday when he asked Sherlock if he would like to get dinner, and Sherlock said yes. John was hoping he wouldn't mess this date up. He wanted to be able to call Sherlock his, walk hand-in-hand with him down the streets, shower him in hugs and kisses, and even have a good shag once in awhile.

"We're here, sir." The cabbie spoke. John snapped back into reality and paid the nice man and got out of the cab. He stood there looking into the restaurant's windows. He told himself everything would do perfectly fine and then walked into the restaurant. There were many people. A lot of noise and commotion going on around him. He focused on why he was here and what he was doing tonight. Going on a date with Sherlock Holmes. He walked up to the maitre d'. She was pretty, wore too much make-up, but she was still pretty. Had nice long, tied back brown hair and very dark green eyes.

"Two for Watson," John said with a smile.

"Right this way, sir." She grabbed two menus and started walking. John followed behind her. She set the menus on a table next to the window.

"Thank you." John said. She smiled and walked back to her stand. John sat down at the table and looked out the window. The streets weren't crowded at all, the sidewalks were though. So many people, walking slow, fast, even some running. John noticed some people laughing, smiling, crying, and some showing no emotion at all. He focused on the window to much and he saw his own reflection. His sad little reflection. He shook his head and looked down at the menu that was placed in front of him.

Sherlock had arrived and the maitre d' brought him to the table where John was sitting. "Good evening, John." He said, sitting down.

"Hi," John's voice squeaked.

"Did you invite me here to talk about last Wednesday?" Sherlock asked.

"I was hoping we could forget that and start a new conversation between us." Sherlock nodded. The sommelier came over and offered them wine list. John objected it as did Sherlock.

"I thought you would've needed a drink by how nervous you are." Sherlock said.

"I'm not nervous," John defended himself.

"Then quit bouncing your leg." Sherlock said, looking down at his menu. Was he really doing that? John looked down at his leg. It was bouncing uncontrollably. He focused on making it stop and it worked. John looked down at his menu and Sherlock snapped his head up to look at John.

His cheeks were flushed with red. His right shirt sleeve was wrinkled more than the left, most likely from toying with it in the cab. Tiny sweat beads were forming at his hairline from being nervous. John looked up at Sherlock and his eyes locked with his blue-green ones. Pupils dilated. Breathing hitched. Leg started to bounce again. Sherlock took in everything he could about John's behavior. From how he licked his lips, rubbed his hands on his trousers in a rhythmic way, barely blinked, held his breath every time Sherlock looked at him, and how he'd toy with his napkin.

"Can I get you two gentlemen something to drink?" The waitress asked. Keaton, his name tag read.

"I'll have a water, thanks." John said.

"Make that two." Sherlock said to the boy. He smiled and walked away. John looked back down at his menu and focused on choosing between the spaghetti and meatballs or the chicken parmesan.

"Spaghetti is better." Sherlock said. John snapped his head up and looked at Sherlock.

"How- never mind. I stopped asking that a long time ago."

"I think I'll get the spaghetti and meatballs too." John closed his menu and set on the side of the table. Sherlock did the same. "How was Garth's sofa?" Sherlock asked.

"His name is Greg, and it was fine." John made eye contact with Sherlock again.

"Clearly not."

"Care to explain?"

"You have a knot in your neck from the way you slept. The way you stretch out your back shows that you were very uncomfortable with your sleeping position. And they way you flex your arm shows that you most likely used it as a pillow or had it under the pillow for support."

"Amazing." Keaton came back with their drinks and offered to take their order. Sherlock took the chance to study him while John talked with him.

"Sorry about your girlfriend. Did you really think it was going to work?" John sighed and put his face into his hands.

"Excuse me?"

"Your girlfriend just broke up with you. By the state of your eyes, you've been crying. She said when you get back from work she wouldn't be there and she won't," Keaton looked like he could strangle Sherlock, "Oh, and she took the cat." Keaton stormed away and requested to get a different waitress for their table. John was looking at Sherlock with a disapproving look.

"Not good?" Sherlock asked.

"No," John shook his head.

Sherlock cleared his throat, "Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me apologize to the poor lad you just harassed!"

"Too late. He already got someone else to wait us."

"No more deductions." John said flatly.

"But-"

"I will not have you ruining this date."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "This is a date?"

"Yes, of course it is! Why else do you think I asked you out to dinner?"

"To tell me you didn't feel the same way and you were moving out of the flat."

"No." John sighed, "Sherlock, I have loved you since the day we first met, I just didn't know how to confess my love to you."

"Are you doing it right now?"

"Bloody hell," John muttered, putting his face in his hands again. "Yes Sherlock." He said, taking his face out of his hands.

"Well in that case, I love you too." Sherlock said with a smile. "And you didn't have to take me out to dinner we could've just talked."

"I thought this way would be more...decent."

"Since when are you decent?" Sherlock asked. John laughed and Sherlock smiled at that, knowing he was the one that made John smile.

"I can be decent when I want to be decent."

"So that's, never?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. John laughed again.

"I'm being decent know, aren't I?"

"You must really like me."

"I do." John said with a smile.

"Good," Sherlock smiled. John rested his chin in his hand and looked at Sherlock. What is going on in that head? He wondered. John took in every single detail of Sherlock. From that wild heap of dark, inky curls, the eyes that held tiny, little universes in each of them, those beautiful, beautiful cheekbones that were sharp enough to cut yourself on, and those light pink cupid bow lips that John just wanted to reach over the table and kiss. How could someone be this perfect?

"John." Sherlock said, trying to gain his attention, "John!"

John blinked rapidly and focused back on Sherlock. "Hmm?"

"You're staring."

"I know." John stared at Sherlock again and Sherlock stared back. "Are we having a staring contest now?"

"Yes." Two grown men, having dinner in a fancy restaurant, having a staring contest. Sherlock would raise and lower his eyebrows, trying to get John to laugh. Nothing worked. John had turned into a statue. Must have been the basic military training. Two minutes, John said in his head. How is he so good at this? Sherlock asked in his head.

Five minutes. John counted in his head. Sherlock's eyes started to water some. John was positive he had it. A tear ran down Sherlock's cheeks. Six minutes.

"Gaah!" Sherlock shouted, closing his eyes. John chuckled and blinked.

"Finally beat you in something."

"How can you do that?"

"Harry and I had competitions when we were younger. Practice makes perfect," John chuckled. Sherlock rubbed his eyes and looked at John. His eyes were blood red.

A woman waiter came over with Sherlock and John's spaghetti and meatballs. She set a plate in front of John and Sherlock then left. John was starving. He instantly started eating the moment he got his fork out of his napkin. Like normal, Sherlock didn't have an appetite as big as John's. He picked at his food some and ate a forkful of pasta and a meatball.

John finished quickly. When he was finished he looked up to find Sherlock staring at him. "What?" He asked.

"You've got- something." Sherlock reached over the table and pressed his thumb to John's cheek. John looked at the thumb and then to Sherlock. Sherlock wiped the sauce off of John's cheek and wiped it on his napkin.

"Thanks." John said.

"Any time," Sherlock smirked.

"You should eat." John said, gesturing his head to his plate full of food.

"I did."

"A fork full and a meatball do not count."

"But I'm not hungry."

"I'm pretty sure I did not take a five-year-old out to dinner and if I did I would've taken you to McDonald's and gotten you a Happy Meal. Sherlock Holmes, eat your food." Sherlock rolled his eyes and picked up his fork. He stabbed it into his pasta and angrily took a bite.

"Two more." John said. Sherlock groaned and stabbed his pasta once more and took another bite. He purposely chewed with his mouth open and mocked John.

"One more." Sherlock whined and sunk down in his seat. "Oh my God." John looked out the window. "Do I have to feed it to you? It's one more bite Sherlock! It's not going to kill you." Sherlock sat up and played with his food. "Seriously?" Sherlock looked up at John and stabbed his pasta again. "Just one tiny bite, Sherlock. One itty-bitty bite. That's all it is." Sherlock got exactly five pasta noodles on the tines and ate them.

"Was it that hard?"

"No. I just wanted you to feed me." John scoffed and looked out the window. After a few minutes he looked back at Sherlock.

"You are something, Sherlock," John chuckled, "You are something." Sherlock smiled. "Are you ready to leave?" John asked.

"Are you going to feed me?"

"Maybe if you take that home with us." Sherlock grinned and flagged the waitress over. He asked for a takeaway box and the check.

"No dessert?" John asked.

"There'll be dessert at home." Sherlock said with a sly wink. John didn't know whether to be excited or a little terrified about having sex with Sherlock. It seemed good because he hasn't had a good wank in a while but then there was the factor that John had sex with one man before but that was a long time ago, and he was positive Sherlock has never had any sexual intercourse.

John snapped out of his thoughts when the waitress set the takeaway box on the table. Sherlock put his leftovers in the box while John took care of the check. Sherlock grabbed the check out of John's hands and put his card in the slot and set it on the edge of the table. John tucked his card back into his wallet and put it back in his pocket. The waitress came back over and picked up the check and their plates and left.

"Rose for your date?" A gentle woman asked John. She held out a single rose. "Three pound." John took out his wallet and took out a five. He handed it to the nice lady.

"Keep the change," He smiled. The woman gave John the rose and walked away. John turned to Sherlock.

"Did you seriously just buy me a rose?"

"I did indeed." John gave Sherlock the rose. Sherlock took it and set it on the table. John felt hurt. Sherlock got up and walked to John. He lowered himself and gently presses his lips to John's. The kiss was soft and tender. John blushed and replied the kiss, taking feeling of what Sherlock's lips were like, they softer than John imagined and he never wanted the kiss to end.

The moment ended when the waiter set the check back onto the table loud enough so they'd hear it. She also put two breath mints on top of the check book. John took one and quickly popped it in his mouth while Sherlock was putting his card back into his wallet.

"Ready?" Sherlock asked. John nodded and stood up. Sherlock grabbed his box of leftovers and started for the door with John following behind him. They walked to the main road and got a cab back to 221b Baker Street.

When they got back John put Sherlock's left overs in the fridge and went up to his bedroom to change. Sherlock on the other hand, quickly pulled out his laptop and searched, "How to get someone in bed with you" He scanned through most of the paragraphs noting what was important and tucking it away in his mind palace.

John came back down dressed in a plain white t-shirt and his pajama bottoms. Sherlock couldn't keep his eyes off of John while he scanned the fridge for a beer. He watched as he lifted the bottle to his perfect lips and took a swing. John walked back to his chair and sat down.

All he could think about was the kiss at the restaurant and how he wanted more. Sherlock was a drug and with one little taste, John instantly got addicted. Sherlock was typing away on his computer and John was watching him, taking a sip of his beer every now and then.

Once the beer was gone, John didn't know what to do. Sherlock was deep into whatever he was doing on his computer and the was clear he wasn't coming back any time soon. John set the empty beer bottle down on the small table next to his chair and stood up. He walked behind Sherlock and wrapped his arms around him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

Sherlock's head shot up and he stopped typing. After a few minutes he looked back down at his laptop and started typing again. John sighed. He looked at Sherlock's screen and read the the top of it, The Science of Deduction. John groaned and sat back down in his chair.

He thought for a bit, thinking of how he could get Sherlock off his computer. John got it. He got up from his chair and stood up in front of Sherlock. There noses were an inch apart, just close to touching. Sherlock looked up at John. John closed the gap between them and kissed Sherlock passionately. The consulting detective closed his computer and set it on the floor, wrapping his arms around John.

The kiss didn't last long, until John had Sherlock pinned against the wall attacking his neck with love bites and kisses. The room was filled with moans and groans from Sherlock, soft whines from Sherlock, and heavy breathing from the both of them. John unbuttoned Sherlock's tight purple shirt and attacked his nipples. Sherlock cried out with pleasure and begged John for more. Sherlock felt his knees go weak under him, he felt his trousers get tight, and he was moaning like crazy. John went for the other nipple, pinching Sherlock's other one with his fingers.

When Sherlock couldn't take anymore, John left sloppy kisses down his torso to his waist line. He unbuckled Sherlock's belt and unzipped his trousers.

"John..," Sherlock breathed, "wait.." He struggled to get it out. John stopped and stood up again.

"Do you not want to have sex?" John asked.

"I do, it's just- you know...I've never done anything before."

John held Sherlock's chin in his hand, "I'll guide you through it." He gently kissed Sherlock's lips. Sherlock replied it with a slight smile on his face. John snaked his arms around Sherlock's waist and pulled him off the wall, guiding him to his bedroom.

Both of them kept tripping over each other's feet and that ended in a fit of laughter once Sherlock fell. When John offered a hand to help him, Sherlock pulled him down with him. Once they caught their breath they both got up and walked into Sherlock's bedroom, closing the door.

Sherlock was pushed onto the bed by John and he left more love marks on Sherlock's exposed skin. While John was doing that, Sherlock was focusing his attention on getting John's pajama bottoms off as well as his pants, but he wasn't wearing any.

Since his bottoms were already off, John pulled Sherlock's trousers off as quick as he could but carefully slid his pants off. Sherlock was getting nervous. Both him and John were fully exposed and they were just eyeing each other.

"You're perfect." John said softly. Sherlock felt his cheeks get hot. John smiled to himself, satisfied, and kissed Sherlock again. This wasn't like the kiss back in the sitting room, this kiss was filled with lust and hunger.

John ran his hand over Sherlock's length and he lost it. He has never been touched like that. It was a new feeling that he absolutely loved and needed more of.

"More..." Sherlock begged.

"Not yet." John smirked.

"Bedside table." John reached over to the bedside and opened the drawer. There was a fresh bottle of lubricant.

"No condoms?" John asked.

"I'm clean, are you?"

"Yes."

"Then there is no need." John grinned and got back on top of Sherlock, regaining dominance. Sherlock wrapped his legs around John and pulled him closer, he could feel John poke at his entrance. Sherlock hissed slightly at the feeling.

"You are not ready yet," John said, "I have to stretch you." Sherlock looked a bit worried. "I'll go slow," John said, applying the lubricant to one of his fingers, "tell me if you want to stop."

He kissed Sherlock again to distract him from him pushing his finger into Sherlock's tight hole. Sherlock gasped and grabbed onto John's arms, digging his nails into him.

"Relax," he said softly. Sherlock relaxed his muscles and John slowly thrusted his finger in and out of the deceive. All sorts of noises were coming out of Sherlock, but John could tell he liked it. He lubed up another finger and slowly pushed it inside Sherlock, making his moan louder than he did before. John slightly scissored his fingers making Sherlock half moan half whimper.

The feeling was painful for Sherlock, but it felt like nothing he's felt before and he needed more. John thrusted his two fingers into Sherlock faster and deeper, hitting Sherlock's small bundle of nerves.

"John!" Sherlock yelped, arching his back. John grinned and aimed for the nerves again. Sherlock tried to buck his hips, but John held them down with his free hand.

"John....please," Sherlock choked out, "I need-" He struggled with his words.

John stopped and pulled out his fingers. "What do you need?" He asked.

"You," Sherlock panted. John grinned and kissed Sherlock once more. He coated himself in lube and put some around Sherlock's entrance as well.

He lined up with Sherlock's entrance. "Tell me if it hurts or if you want to stop," John said in a gentle tone. Sherlock nodded.

John inched himself in and he thought Sherlock was going to fall to pieces. He wrapped his arms tightly around John and pressed his forehead to his. Sherlock let out a soft whimper when John pulled out and pushed back into him.

This was a new feeling. It was pain mixed with pleasure. The feeling of John inside of him was fantastic, but it also felt like a sharp stabbing pain in his ass. As the pain wore off, Sherlock got more comfortable with the feeling and gave John the ok to go faster if he pleased.

John's thrusts got a little bit faster. He didn't want to go to fast. He wanted for Sherlock to never forget his first time with him. John aimed to go deeper and hit Sherlock's prostate.

The detective was already reaching his climax, but he didn't want to come yet. He wanted to come when John did, but he knew that wouldn't happen. Especially when John rubbed over his small bundle of nerves that made him scream with pleasure.

"John-ah....more," Sherlock breathed. John went a little faster and a lot deeper, hitting the nerves better.

Sherlock threw his head back into the pillows and dug his nails into John's back, leaving marks. John groaned as he watched Sherlock come hot white ribbons all over himself. He didn't know if he could last longer. Sherlock's moans were driving him crazy and he need to release his pleasure.

John watched as Sherlock soft, gentle moans turned into screams of pleasure, begging him to go faster. John filled Sherlock's request going hard and fast into the consulting detective. He reached his own climax and came deep inside of Sherlock. As John came down from his high, his thrusts got slower until he finally pulled out of Sherlock. He cleaned the sticky white liquid off of Sherlock's chest with his own shirt.

John laid next to Sherlock, pulling the duvet over them. Sherlock nuzzled into John's chest and John wrapped his arms around Sherlock.

"I love you," Sherlock said quietly, kissing John's chest.

"I love you too," John smiled happily. Sherlock was his. Sherlock was all his. The best thing in life to happen to him is now his to love and to cherish.

They both fell asleep peacefully, dreaming of one another. This was their life now. Just the both of them, against everyone else. It was going to be hell loving a man like Sherlock, but he's worth it. 

A/N: I might updated this and make it as a full story, I don't know yet, but I hoped you enjoyed this 3,763 word one shot or what ever I wrote. Have a lovely day:)