A/N Here is the first chapter!!! let me know what you think!! Enjoy<3

John was nervous. It wasn't as though this was his first big production, he had been asked to do a few bigger films now, but for some reason this one was freaking him out. He read the paper he had been clinging to again, making sure he was reading it right.

They had slotted him with Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes was practically a god in the industry, and they wanted him to work with him. John took a steadying breath before making his way into the studio. He had been asked to head straight for room 221B for prep, and he felt himself relax.

He didn't mind the prep, having his hair and makeup done, being shown what was expected of him and where he was supposed to go. He found it relaxing.

His mind flashed back to when he used to make his own videos, before he got picked up by one of the bigger companies. Apparently, there was a high demand for short, blonde, ex-soldier types that had high stamina, and a knack for calling out orders.

He stopped in front of the door marked 221B and absently rubbed at his shoulder before knocking.

A small, mousy young woman, not much older than himself, answered, her face splitting into a grin when she saw him.

"Hi! You must be John." She held out her hand, her voice coming out much softer than John would have thought. He took her hand and almost yelped as she yanked him into the room. "Sorry, I'm Molly. It's cold out there and our heater just broke so His Highness doesn't want the door open for too long."

"I-It's alright-"

"Good!" She scurried behind him, pushing him forward until he almost ran into one of the makeup chairs. "Sorry again, I just need to get you prepped. The producers have a stick up their ass today because His Royal Pain pissed them off again. Take a seat and I'll go get my stuff." John took a seat as asked and placed his book-bag on the ground, glancing around the room.

"His Royal Pain?"

"Yeah, Sherlock. I swear, he is the most difficult man I have ever had the misfortune to work with." John swallowed another flare of nerves. "Do you happen to know your shade? I don't remember where I left your coding sheet."

"Uh, yeah. I think I have it written in my book somewhere." He reached down and grabbed his bag again, fumbling with the zip and tugging out his notebook. He always kept all his codes and information written down, just in case. He handed it to Molly before setting his bag back down.

"G-87." A new voice came from the sofa in the corner, causing John to jump slightly. He glanced over, watching as the fabric of the sofa moved. There was someone stretched out on the furniture.

"W-What?"

"G-87. That's your shade, correct?" John looked back at Molly helplessly, unsure how to respond. She picked up a makeup brush and threw it at the sofa. A head of dark curls popped up from one of the ends, a low whine sounding from the figure. "Stop throwing things! You're going to bruise me!"

"It's a makeup brush you big baby! Now, stop being rude. You're scaring John."

"He's not-" The figure groaned, and suddenly John realized who it was. Molly had just thrown a makeup brush at Sherlock Holmes.

"Was I right at least?" Sherlock asked, his voice sending a thrill along John's spine, one he hadn't felt since before he left the army. He brushed aside thoughts of his former commander and focused on not trembling.

He ducked as a book flew towards Sherlock.

"Ow! Damnit Molly Hooper!" Sherlock shouted, whipping off the sofa and tripping, falling unceremoniously to the floor. The medical training in John kicked in and he leapt to Sherlock's aid, gripping his arm and pulling the mass of limbs and curls up. The lanky man stood, looking pissed and furiously straightening his dressing gown. He glared over John's head at Molly, pushing John out of the way and stalking over to the mousy girl. "What the fuck?"

"You're being rude! Do you have any idea how much shit you've caused today? If you scare him off you will lose your contract."

"How was I being rude?"

"You haven't even said hello to the man you are going to be fucking in a few hours!" Sherlock growled, spinning to face John and snapping a hello at him. John felt a flash of irritation, not used to people treating him this way. He was about to say something when he saw Sherlock visibly freeze, his shoulders tightening and his head springing up.

Confusion flared through him when he caught the cheeky grin that flashed over Molly's face.

Sherlock spun back to face him, this time looking curious and slightly flustered. John watched as a blush seemed to take over the pale skin of Sherlock's neck and face, making him look younger and more approachable.

"I-I- I apologize for my behavior, Captain Watson." Sherlock seemed to stumble over his words, looking incredibly embarrassed. John smirked and shook his head, reaching his hand out towards the taller man.

"It's alright. You can call me John when we aren't filming." Sherlock looked at his hand, then back up at him, his eyes wide and lips parted in shock. "Something wrong? No touching before filming or something?" John asked, unable to hide the amusement in his voice. Sherlock blinked rapidly and snapped his jaw shut, straightening his posture. He reached out and shook John's hand, his fingers colder and rougher that John had pictured.

"Sorry, John. I'm Sherlock."

"Oh, I know who you are." Sherlock blushed, pulling his hand away from John and glancing at the floor. John blinked in shock, registering Sherlock's behavior. He was acting like a little boy that just met his idol. John decided to test his theory. "I've seen your work, you're pretty good." He winked, sending a flush over the pale man's cheeks. Sherlock stared at him for a long while, seemingly frozen.

"Sorry to interrupt this little eye fucking session, but I have to get John ready for the actual fucking session." John blushed this time as he remembered why exactly he was here, talking to Sherlock Holmes. "John, I need you in the chair." He nodded and forced himself to return to his seat. "Shirt off please."

"M-My shirt?" John hesitated, rubbing at his shoulder and fidgeting. He normally didn't have an issue with people seeing his scar, but Sherlock Holmes was still watching him.

Sherlock Holmes was the definition of perfect, and John was a short, scarred ex-soldier with PTSD and a messed-up shoulder.

"Yes. Problem?" He saw Sherlock studying him in the mirror and chewed at his bottom lip, shaking his head and tugging the shirt over his head. As soon as it was off, he covered his shoulder with his hand, massaging the muscle absentmindedly.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock's deep voice pulled John from his self-loathing.

"W-What?"

"Afghanistan or Iraq? Where did you serve?"

"A-Afghanistan. Wait, how did you-"

"You wear registration army fatigues in your soldier kink videos, and you carry yourself like a soldier, even when you aren't filming. Your haircut is only slightly longer than regulation, you prefer it longer but don't like change, so you keep it at this length. That injury was made by a large gun, sniper rifle probably. You aren't old enough to have been a cop, so that leaves army." John blinked at the young man behind him, holding his gaze in the mirror. Sherlock blushed and looked away, glancing around the room as though avoiding John's eyes.

"How did you do that?" John couldn't hide the awe in his voice.

"Sorry. It's just a stupid trick. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No! No, it's fine. That was cool. No one ever guesses that I was really in the army. They just assume the scar is fake."

"People are idiots." John laughed, feeling less self-conscious as Molly started his makeup. "You have no need to be ashamed of your scar, John. It's-" Sherlock blushed deeper, shuffling his feet and tugging at his sleeves. "I-It's-"

"He thinks you're hot."

"Molly!" Sherlock growled at the girl, causing her to laugh. John flushed, trying to hide his face, but getting his hands swatted by Molly.

"What? John is smart, there is no way he can't see-"

"Molly, I swear to fucking God!"

"I don't have time for this Sherlock. Now, stop distracting John. I have to finish his makeup." Sherlock flushed and clenched his fists, looking incredibly uncomfortable. John smirked at him in the mirror, feeling a spark of affection for the young man.

"If it's any constellation, I think you're hot too." John winked at Sherlock, enjoying the shock that took over the tall man's face.

A new man poked his head into the room, waving at John and Molly before turning his attention to Sherlock.

"Hey Sherlock, they need to start getting you ready for the scene."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

"Sherlock-"

"Five minutes!" The man looked irritated, but left. Sherlock gave a self-satisfied smile at the now-closed door before turning around, stepping closer to John and waving Molly aside. He spun John's chair around, leaning down until he was inches away from John's face.

John swallowed nervously, fighting to keep his eyes trained on Sherlock's.

Sherlock dropped his hand to John's scar, gently caressing the damaged skin. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the mark, the simple action sent sparks along John's spine. He gasped as Sherlock sucked ever so lightly on the skin, the sensitive nerve endings tingling. No one ever acknowledged his scar, mainly just ignoring it in favor of other parts.

"Hmm, so the scar is sensitive? Good to know." Sherlock's voice had gone deep and husky, and John felt arousal pooling in his stomach. "I shall take that into account while I'm fucking you, Captain Watson." John whimpered, he had filmed with lots of guys before, but none of them had made him feel quite like this before.

Sherlock grinned darkly at him before capturing his lips in a kiss that felt like fire. John moaned into the kiss, running his fingers through Sherlock's dark curls and slipping his tongue into Sherlock's mouth. The young man pulled away, slightly breathless and flushed.

"Oh, I think I'm going to enjoy this." He whispered, kissing John softly before straightening up and walking towards the door. John watched, trying to collect himself enough to respond. "I'll see you soon, Captain." Sherlock winked and spun out of the room, leaving John more flustered than he could ever remember being.