Chapter Four: What He Never Would Have Expected

This chapter contains mentioned sexual content. But it's off screen, for the most part. Here's my warning, and I beg you to heed it. This is not how ALL ASEXUAL ACT! this is an example of one asexual character. This is not an accurate representation of all asexual people, myself included.

Here we go. They are going to do the do. If find this an important topic in terms of asexuality, because it's important to note that asexuals can still have sex and be asexual.

Thanks to all the positive feedback, I couldn't do this without y'all.

Over the last few months, Sherlock and John became an item. Everyone at New Scotland Yard regarded them as one entity. There was never Sherlock without John, and never John without Sherlock. It was always John and Sherlock. Sherlock and John. Holmes and Watson.

They're Boyfriends, You Know. Isn't It Odd?

I Would Have Never Pegged Watson As Gay, But Whatever Floats His Boat.

Who Would Ever Date That Insufferable Twat?

Do You Think They've [insert wild hand motions and waggled eyebrows here] You Know…

Sherlock and John ignored the nosy officers at the crime scene. Comments like those had become common ever since they had kissed for the first time in public, right after Sherlock had narrowly avoided being shot and John beat the assailant mercilessly until he begged for mercy.

People always seemed to forget that John had been a soldier. Their mistake.

But the constant less-than-professional tittering that followed the couple wherever they went didn't faze them. They had each other, and that was all they also had Greg on their side, so that was a bonus too.

Being with Sherlock was the best feeling in the world. To have his looming presence and limitless intellect focused on John, an ordinary PTSD ridden army doctor gave him a new point of view in life. As they grew closer, they were able to read each other's intentions to the point where they didn't even need to speak. Watching movies, going to crime scenes, getting take out… these previously mundane activities held new meaning to John. During movies, they would cuddle. At crime scenes, they would hold hands. They'd still squabble over eating and take out, but even the bickering held a new warmth for both Sherlock and John. And the kissing… well, that was nice too.

Contrary to what John had earlier believed, Sherlock was not a prude when it came to kissing. One moment it could be chaste, another it could be full of passion and emotion. John learned to read which way Sherlock was willing to go. He knew when to deepen the kiss or let it remain innocent.

So what if John got reaquainted with his left hand? He would gladly never have sex again if he could just stay like this with Sherlock forever. He would sacrifice anything for him.

Which is why, one seemingly normal Thursday evening, John had to struggle to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

"Come again?" John said, choking on his spit slightly. He flushed with embarrassment at Sherlock's fond smile.

"I think we should have sex." Sherlock said calmly, quelling the nervous butterflies in his stomach. What if John didn't want him that way? What if he did it wrong?

John straightened in his seat, staring intently at his partner, who was perched in the armchair across from him.

"Sherlock," he said softly, evenly. As if trying not to spook him. Sherlock resisted the urge to snort, but let John work through it. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do for my sake." His eyes were wide, and his breath was hitching in his chest. Not signs of desire, but concern.

"You know me. I would never do anything I wasn't comfortable with. John, I love you," John blushed at that, "and I trust you enough that I want to do this."

It wasn't as if he was a virgin. It had just been… a while. He never had the desire to have sex outside of curiosity. After the first time, he had been unimpressed and left it at that. It wasn't as if he was longing to have sex even now, but the prospect of making John blush and stammer and smile was enough to outweigh his disinterest.

"Are you sure," was all John said, gripping his chair firmly, back tense.


It wasn't too long before Sherlock and John were in bed. If he was being honest, Sherlock found the whole business vaguely pleasing, but mostly tedious. What made it bearable, and gratifying, was watching John's face, cataloguing the sounds he made and the way his expressions broadcasted his every thought, his every feeling. It wasn't a sight he was soon to forget.

Later, as they lay in bed together, John turned towards Sherlock and smiled.

"So, how was it," he said, smiling slyly and winking. Sherlock huffed out a laugh.

"It was… interesting," he said honestly. John laughed richly at that, and he shook the bed with his giggles.

"Don't get used to it," he teased. "I don't plan on doing this again for a long, long time." John smiled at Sherlock, warm and accepting.

Sherlock was speechless. It was obvious John had enjoyed himself, and yet he was willing to put everything aside for him.

"Thank you," Sherlock said genuinely, moving closer to his boyfriend. John was warm, and he felt himself beginning to relax.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," John hummed. "I love you."

"Love you too."

I think this may be the end. The end!