I was going to write willietheplaidjacket a nice little fluffy smutty christmas fic, but, well, it turned into this. I’m blaming John Watson:<\/p>\n
Christmas Leaves its Mark<\/a> –\u00a0In which John and Sherlock have their first time in front of the fireplace on Christmas evening. And Sherlock discovers John is a biter.<\/p>\n teaser below the cut<\/p>\n <\/p>\n John sat in front of the fire, watching it burn. He absently poured himself another glass of whiskey and sighed. Of course he couldn\u2019t have a normal Christmas. Of course Harry drank too damn much and there had been a huge argument and he\u2019d walked out.<\/p>\n Looking at the glass, he knew he wasn\u2019t much better than Harry sometimes. Dad\u2019s marvelous legacy. At least he didn\u2019t get drunk all that often. Right now he was enjoying a delicious buzz and the quiet of the flat. He couldn\u2019t imagine Sherlock\u2019s Christmas was going any better than his own.<\/p>\n The door opened and he looked up, surprised. Sherlock tugged off his scarf and coat and took four steps into the dark flat before seeing the figure in the chair. \u201cProblems at home, John?\u201d<\/p>\n John set down his glass hard enough to rattle. \u201cIt\u2019s Christmas, Sherlock.\u00a0This\u00a0is home.\u201d<\/p>\n Something changed in Sherlock\u2019s eyes. Maybe it had been too many months of dancing around the subject. Maybe it was just a little too much to drink. Or the way the firelight lit his flatmate\u2019s face. All John Watson knew is that he was suddenly on his feet and dragging Sherlock into a kiss, pushing his tongue past lips barely resisting, the detective\u2019s hands landing on his shoulders, pulling him closer.<\/p>\n There was the muffled sound of his name, but John wouldn\u2019t let him up for air quite yet, all but dragging him towards the fire, knocking over the glass of whiskey as he pushed Sherlock to the floor, straddling the taller man\u2019s hips. No matter what words came out of his mouth next, John could already feel his erection.<\/p>\n