Chapter Text
Today was the Display. John was scared out of his mind, but he had committed to this – to Sherlock. It was strange to think about it. About how much Sherlock had affected his life. His view of himself. In the end, he needed Sherlock. And honestly, Sherlock needed him as well. Even so, John was glad he had gotten his tattoo first. Sure, it painful, but it relieved some of the pressure from their current situation. Corporeally, he was claimed already. They just didn’t have the properly signed paperwork yet. Everything was filled out except for the signatures from the witnesses of the display.
“Relax,” Sherlock murmured into John’s ear, causing him to flinch. “They’re going to be more interested in my performance than yours anyway.”
John flushed as he heard that. “What if Lestrade-” he started to ask.
“I was at Lestrade’s display. I think nothing less of him,” Sherlock cut in. “Now, take a deep breath. They’re waiting for us.”
John breathed out before sucking in the deepest breath he could. Opening the door, Sherlock stepped in first, shielding John just a moment longer before he stepped in as well. John let out his breath as he walked into their living room. Mycroft was sitting in Sherlock’s chair and Lestrade in John’s. Both were silent and observant.
Setting the papers onto the table, Sherlock turned back to face John. His eyes expressed it all. Relax. John nodded to show he understood. Slowly, Sherlock stepped forward and cupped John’s cheek. He kissed him softly, letting his lips linger for a moment longer than necessary.
“Brother mine, we won’t be able to see anything with you standing in front of him like that,” Mycroft commented.
John was snapped from his reverie – thrown back into the present of understanding that Mycroft and Lestrade were there, watching them.
“Shut up,” Sherlock snapped before turning his attention back to John.
Once more, their lips met. This time, though, it was hungrier. Sherlock sucked on John’s lower lip before slipping his tongue into John’s mouth. Moaning, John kissed him back desperately, grabbing Sherlock’s coat in the process. They had never kissed like this before, but John was enjoying himself thoroughly. He hummed before breaking the kiss for a breath. In that moment, Sherlock removed John’s jumper, revealing his upper torso. His eyes flickered to the scar on his left shoulder, the only mark remaining from his surgery when he was young. Immediately, Sherlock’s eyes catalogued the information – memorising God knew what – before kissing down John’s neck. John groaned, baring it, and mindlessly allowed Sherlock to move him.
Carefully, Sherlock fished John’s cock out. His strokes were almost teasingly slow. Thumbing over the tip, he started to leave love bites all across John’s neck. John gasped before moaning and arching into his touches. Smirking, Sherlock pulled off John’s trousers and pants before grabbing the lube that was purposefully positioned nearby. He slicked his fingers before sliding one inside of John. Gasping, John arched up. His eyes went wide, and he instinctively clamped down onto the finger, as if trying to force it out. Sherlock latched onto one of John’s nipples in response. With that, John moaned and tangled his fingers into Sherlock’s curls. Sherlock smiled against John’s skin as he relaxed. After a few pumps to ensure everything was alright, he slid in another finger.
“O-oh!” John exclaimed, shocked by the sudden pleasure.
“That took some time to find,” Sherlock teased before sucking on John’s bottom lip. He drew John back into another passionate kiss.
After the kiss broke, John managed to retort, “You just don’t know what you’re doing.”
Sherlock slid in a third finger before ramming it into John’s prostate, causing him to scream out in pleasure. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over your moans.”
John wanted to retort, but another strike to his prostate muted him. He was left at Sherlock’s mercy, which made his blood rush. His cock strained, beginning to be touched once more. However, Sherlock merely teased it, letting his fingers ghost up the hardened flesh. John whimpered and bucked in reply, hoping to force a bit more contact. This only made Sherlock withdraw his fingers. A protest died on John's lips as he watched Sherlock fish out his own cock.
“N-not undressing?” John inquired, his nervousness colouring his voice.
Looking up at him, Sherlock paused a moment. His eyes examined John as he lay there before he hummed and began to strip. Obviously, he had been able to work out that John didn’t want to be the only one so vulnerable. Once he was undressed, he took the time to prepare himself. John spread his legs a bit further before Sherlock slid into his body. John’s eyes widened as he felt Sherlock’s cock stretch him. He had never experienced anything like that before, and he let out a groan. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if it was pleasurable or painful until Sherlock nailed his prostate.
“Pleasurable!” John exclaimed, talking to himself.
Sherlock smirked. “Yes. It’s supposed to be.”
John turned red. Immediately, he reached up to cover his face with his hands, hoping to spare himself being seen. Sherlock caught his hands and pinned them down instead. A sharp thrust provided an ample distraction. Crying out, John bucked and writhed, almost as if he was trying to wriggle away. Sherlock didn’t once let up, every thrust just as precise as the one before. And no matter how John moved, Sherlock always nailed his prostate. John struggled against the restraints of being held. His blood coursed - namely down - and before long, John came onto himself with a cry of Sherlock’s name. Sherlock grunted a few thrusts later and spilled into John.
Panting, John shuddered as he felt Sherlock slip from his body. He swallowed hard and tried to regain his breath as Sherlock pulled out something.
“Signatures here,” Sherlock stated.
Mycroft answered, “I know how it works, little brother.”
Suddenly, John remembered that Mycroft and Lestrade had been there the whole time. He jolted up and let out a cry of pain from the sudden movement.
“Lay back,” Sherlock murmured before running his fingers through John’s hair. Immediately, John relaxed back into the desk.
Both Mycroft and Lestrade signed the papers before shuffling out of the room. His eyes followed them, and he couldn’t help but feel relieved when they were gone. “Well, at least that’s over with,” he noted before looking up at Sherlock. It took him a moment before he processed that he was looking into the eyes of his Independent, and he let the grin slowly spread across his features.
Sherlock smiled right back at him. “Yes. Now we’ll never have to have sex ever again. Thank God,” he joked.
“W-wait, that’s not what I was saying!” John quickly corrected.
Swooping down, Sherlock kissed John’s lips and smirked. “I know it’s not. Now up you get. You have class in two hours.”
“Can’t you send in an excuse for me?” John whined before hopping up.
“I haven’t claimed you for five minutes, and you’re already trying to use my power for your own gain!” Sherlock noted with a grin. “That’s my Dependent.”
Laughing, John headed off and showered before getting dressed. Today, he didn’t mind wearing his Dependent-styled shirt. In fact, he was a bit eager to see how his peers would react to the tattoo, having gotten it over the weekend. With a final call out to Sherlock, John went trotting off to school. He stuffed his ear buds into his ears but didn’t turn on any music. After all, people were more likely to talk if they thought he couldn’t hear them. The first thing he noticed was how no one approached him. On the Tube, he usually got at least one interested party, but today there was no one. The same thing happened when he walked into the building. No one gave him so much as a second glance once they caught the tattoo on his back.
He waited outside his classroom, and he finally heard the first comment. “Oh, my God. He’s claimed!” one girl noted.
“No way! I-isn’t that the Holmes family crest?” another girl pressed.
“It looks like it!” a bloke commented, and John bit back a smile. “You don’t think it’s Professor Holmes, do you?”
“Who else could it be?” the first girl inquired.
Removing his ear buds, John looked back at the trio and smiled. “Yes, I am claimed. Yes, it is Professor Holmes. Yes, we waited until my grades were finalised. Oh, and yes, I could hear every word you all said. Honestly, people these days.”
With that, John turned back around and headed into the lecture hall. He was fully satisfied with himself and his new life. Being a claimed Dependent was nothing like he thought it would be, and he wished he had figured this out sooner. It would have made everything easier on him and Sherlock to be sure. As he settled back into his seat, he heard more whispers, but not a single Independent hit on him. It was better that way, though. His heart belonged to Sherlock Holmes, after all.