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Flesh Thoughts (White Realizations)

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This story is No. 11 in the series "The Myffy Chronicles". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: John comes to a realization. XI in the Myffy Chronicles.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Literature > Crime > Sherlock HolmesJadedFR1811,0592174,38829 Mar 1229 Mar 12Yes
Author: Jaded
Story: Flesh Thoughts (White Realizations)
Disclaimer: Joss owns Buffy, Sherlock (BBC) was created by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss and is based on the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I write for fun, not for profit.
Summary: John comes to a realization. XI in the Myffy Chronicles.
Warnings: Sexuality, slash, het, threesome.
A/N 1:This is a LOT more sexual than the previous ones, which is why its been bumped up to FR18 (better safe than sorry). Also, its relatively short when compared to the others, it doesn't break 1K, but I wanted to upload SOMETHING so...:)

Flesh Thoughts (White Realizations)

John was working on his blog and trying to get the mental images of Sherlock and Dawn out of his head, just as he had been for the past week and a half.

It wasn't working.

Fancy that.

It wasn't the idea of them being attracted to each other that was distracting him—he'd actually joked about it with Lestrade once. Dawn was intelligent, easy-going, wasn't put off by Sherlock's … issues, wasn't phased by his tendency toward human experimentation, and she honestly enjoyed Sherlock's company. She was what John had once considered the perfect partner for the detective. The only reason he hadn't thought anything would actually happen between them was A, he hadn't been entirely convince Sherlock wasn't asexual and B, if he wasn't asexual, his comment the first time they went to Angelo's had indicated he wasn't attracted to women.

“Girlfriend? No, not really my area.”

He remembered that like it was yesterday. The way Sherlock had said it, so distracted by waiting for the cabbie, John's worry about being an arse and fucking up the entire conversation... Though thinking about it now and considering the bit about being married to his work, John supposed Sherlock might have meant dating as a whole and not women in general.

He'd certainly seemed distracted enough with Irene, after all.

He stopped typing and thought about that for a moment.

Irene had been, there was no other word for it, fascinating to Sherlock. The way her mind worked, her ability to completely confuse him, her use of her sex as a shield, the fact she was able to, even temporarily, deceive him—it spoke volumes. It wasn't a physical attraction, no. But a mental attraction...yeah, he could see that.

So Sherlock was capable of attraction. Was, in fact, just as susceptible to such things as the “lowly humans” he was surrounded by day in and day out.

Which meant it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he was attracted to Dawn.

That he might, if given the opportunity, take advantage and kiss her. Which Dawn had given him. The opportunity, that is. Her insinuation that his massive intellect meant he wasn't as likely to have the same reaction to a kiss as Dawn or John had been all the incentive Sherlock would have needed. It gave him an excuse to kiss her without her knowing he was attracted, allowed him to take advantage without making things awkward.

In theory, at least. In practice, it obviously had not turned out quite like Sherlock had expected.

For one thing, Dawn was now avoiding them. John had only seen her once since she'd fled from Sherlock's bedroom and that had been just in passing. He'd seen more of Buffy the last week or so than he'd seen of Dawn.

For another, Sherlock had been almost distracted since it'd happened. Not even a case via Lestrade had been able to keep him from thinking about the kiss, as more than once John had had to snap Sherlock out of his head. Needless to say, the detective inspector had been practically panting to know what had put Sherlock into this sort of behavior.

John hadn't told him. It wasn't any of Lestrade's business and he had a feeling he'd give too much away if he had to explain what he'd heard and seen.

Which brought him right back to what he'd been trying to avoid picturing.

Sherlock and Dawn. Together.

He shifted in his chair, glad he had the flat to himself, Mycroft having kidnapped his brother for the afternoon. He didn't want to explain to Sherlock just why he was getting hard in his trousers, sitting at the table in front of his laptop, with no porn on the screen.

He wasn't going to tell him he was imagining Sherlock and Dawn together. Not just kissing, either, but doing things he had no right to imagine them doing together. They were his friends, for christ-sake!

It wasn't the first time it had happened. Even before the kissing, he'd occasionally wake up in bed, hard in his pajama's, and come off to fantasies of Dawn, even Sherlock a few times. He'd tried to avoid it at all possible, Dawn was entirely too young and Sherlock was a bloke and his flatmate, but it was no use. After the whole sex-talk, kissing debacle, it was getting harder and harder not to admit to himself that he was attracted to them.

He slumped suddenly in his chair, eyes hooded as he stared at his laptop.

He'd finally thought it. It might have been in passing, but he'd finally admitted it.

He was attracted to Sherlock and Dawn.

“Fuck.”

~~*~~

In an act of extreme self-denial he hadn't previously thought he was capable of, it took him another few days to confirm that yes, he was attracted to them both. In the end, after running around in a circle of mental arguments with himself, he'd decided to take a vaguely Sherlock approach to confirming it—he experimented.

Fantasies of Dawn with a nameless man always culminated with the other man being either himself or Sherlock. Fantasies of Sherlock with a nameless man always ended up with him in the picture, sometimes with Dawn watching. He even tried imagining Sherlock with Irene, who he actually had seen naked before, but it hadn't done a damn thing—until Irene suddenly became Dawn.

The fantasy of the three of them together, however, was what really sealed the deal. He hadn't had an orgasm that hard in years.

So, physical attraction: Check.

That just left if it was a physical reaction or something deeper.

Which, almost as soon as he thought it, he knew was one of the more stupider questions he'd ever asked himself.

Flopping back on his bed and having taken a shower to clean up his mess, he tried thinking of his next move.

Nothing was coming to mind.

End Note: I graduate from university in about a month (MAY 12th BABY!) and everything has decided now is the perfect time to pile up. Updates on EVERYTHING will be slow going until about mid-May. I apologize in advance.

The End

You have reached the end of "Flesh Thoughts (White Realizations)". This story is complete.

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