Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Word Count: 1,394
Summary: Sherlock is having a bad day, but then Jim shows up.
Sherlock was in his mind palace. The colors were drab and faded. He could almost smell the stench of decay and mold. Redbeard came up to him and Sherlock bent down to pet his dog; Redbeard's fur was matted and dark with mud.
Sherlock stood up and walked down the twisting corridors of his mind palace, his steps echoed on gray stone and his fingers brushed against red brick walls.
He opened a thick wooden door and entered a large room. The walls and floor were crimson and a fire crackled in a fireplace made of brick. Jim stood with his back to Sherlock. Gone were the chains and straight jacket, in their place Jim was wearing a dark suit.
Sherlock sat down in a overstuffed chair made of red fabric and waited. Normally, Jim would turn around, come up to Sherlock and they would kiss, but now Jim wasn't moving. It seemed that even the Jim of his mind wasn't available. He hadn't heard from Jim in over a week, which could only mean that Jim was somewhere where his mobile didn't work and he didn't have Internet access. Ever since the fundamental change in their relationship Jim hadn't gone more than a day without contacting Sherlock in some way.
Redbeard came into the room and jumped on Sherlock's lap. He licked Sherlock hand until he was petted.
After several minutes, Sherlock gave up and left his mind palace.
He was laying on his couch. There hadn't been an interesting case in weeks and he was bored. The boredom was crushing like a weight pressing down on his head. He hadn't moved from his spot of the couch in hours and thought about getting up and eating, but didn't really see the point.
He heard the sound of familiar footsteps coming up the stairs and didn't even roll over when the door to his flat opened.
'What are you doing here, Jim?'
'I'm here to help.'
At that Sherlock rolled over and stared at Jim. He was dressed in a suit with a red tie around his neck. He was holding a bag of groceries. His normally manicured nails were ragged with dirt under them, that just strengthened the theory that Jim had been out of town on business.
'Help? That doesn't sound like you.'
'I have my reasons. Tomorrow will be the day I reveal my masterpiece and I need you in top shape, so I'm going to feed you up, then I'm going to have my dirty way with you and finally I'm going to take a bath with you and put you to bed.' Jim said excitedly.
Sherlock sat up and felt dizzy. A sure sign of low blood sugar. Perhaps it would be best to eat Jim's food.
'Why are you telling me all this?'
Jim shrugged. 'It seemed like a good idea. Now if you'll excuse me I have dinner to prepare.'
Sherlock laid on the couch and his mind raced coming up with different versions on Jim's masterpiece. It was most likely going to something grand. Just thinking about it relived some of the boredom until it was bearable.
After several minutes Sherlock caught the whiff of cooking food; turkey with mashed potatoes (with butter).
After a while Jim came into the room holding a plate of food. It was indeed turkey (sliced thin) and mashed potatoes. Jim sat the plate on Sherlock's lap and pulled up a chair next to the couch.
'Are you going to be good or am I going to have to feed you like a baby?'
'I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself.'
'Then why don't you?'
'Food is just fuel for my brain, but when people are being insufferably boring my brain needs very little fuel.'
Sherlock's took a bite of turkey and let the taste sit on his tongue. It had been cooked with thyme and rosemary. The potatoes were creamy and buttery. Soon Sherlock's plate was clean. Jim took the empty plate and carried it to the kitchen.
Once he came back he sat on the couch next to Sherlock. He slid his hands over Sherlock's shoulders and traveled down until he reached the belt of Sherlock's dressing gown.
Jim untied the belt and Sherlock shivered as fingers brushed over his skin. He felt his cock twitch. Jim lent forward and kissed Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock could smell Jim spicy cologne and his cock hardened more as warm lips brushed over his skin.
He groaned when Jim sucked on his hard nipple; before Jim, he had considered sex a worthless pursuit, but not now. Jim stimulated his mind which in turn simulated his body.
Jim slid down off the couch and was face to face with Sherlock's hard cock, Sherlock cleared his throat.
'You're wearing far too many clothes. Take them off... slowly.'
Jim smirked. 'Oh Sherlock. That's so kinky for you.'
Jim stood up and loosened his tie. He dropped it to the floor as Sherlock sat back to enjoy the show. It wasn't so much the relieve of skin as it was the show of trust on Jim's part. Jim never talked about it, but Sherlock always got the impression that Jim was so good at being other people because he never showed people the real him.
Jim unbuttoned his suit jacket and it fell to the floor.
His shirt came off next and as each button came undone more of his pale chest was revealed. His chest was crisscrossed with old, faded scars.
Sherlock's eyes traveled past Jim pink nipples and followed the trail of dark that led down to Jim's trousers and disappeared under the fabric.
Sherlock licked his lips as Jim undid his trousers (he wasn't wearing any pants) and he reveled his hard cock. The it was longer and thinner than Sherlock's own with a deep red tip that glistened with precome.
Sherlock reached down and lightly stroked himself, it wasn't nearly enough to come but it did bring his cock to full hardness.
'Come here,' he said as he laid down in the couch and waited.
Jim walked over to the couch and lowered himself on top of Sherlock. As the were pressed together from chest to thigh, Sherlock rubbed Jim's back as the other man kissed and nipped at Sherlock's neck. Jim turned his head and their lips met. As they kissed Sherlock reach down between them and grabbed both cocks. He stroked them until Jim groaned into his mouth. Jim's hand joined Sherlock's and their fingers intertwined as they stroked their cocks.
Faster and faster they stroked until Sherlock felt his orgasm pool in his stomach. Jim must have sensed it because he broke the kiss and bit down on Sherlock's shoulder, it was just painful enough to be pleasurable.
Sherlock came all over Jim stomach. As Jim came he swore in Irish and Sherlock held him as his body shook.
After they both came down from their orgasms Jim settled against Sherlock and lightly kissed his neck and shoulder. Sherlock knew logically that his orgasm was just a release of pleasure inducing chemicals into his brain to keep him fornicating, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
After several moments Jim got up and Sherlock shivered as cool air touched his sweat damp skin. He heard the water in the bathroom running and remembered that Jim had said something about a bath. Considering that his stomach was covered with come and sweat he looked forward to it.
He walked into his bathroom and saw Jim kneeling by the tub, the tub was full of water.
Jim stood up. 'You first.'
Sherlock got in the tub and sunk down into the water. The water was warm enough to make him groan with pleasure without being scalding. He closed his eyes and leant his head back. He opened his eyes when he heard Jim get into the tub and lean against Sherlock's chest.
'Enjoying yourself,' Sherlock asked.
'Oh, yes. I've never been in a tub with someone else. You?'
'When I was a small child I would have to take baths with Mycroft. Mother couldn't stand to waste water.'
Jim just nodded. Sherlock picked up a bar of soup and lathered up Jim's shoulder.
Sherlock had been having a bad day, but now it was better. Sherlock couldn't wait to see Jim's masterpiece.