"Brilliant John!"
"Wait, really?"
"Not really, no," Sherlock replied, pacing the living room of the flat for what seemed like the thousandth time.
John huffed and slumped back into his armchair. He'd copped the brunt of Sherlock's boredom for two hours and was, quite frankly, over it. There'd been a surprising lack of cases and, to Mr Hudson's distaste, a significant number of damages done to the flat in response. John was contemplating the idea of going out for a bit when a load crash brought him back from his thoughts.
"Give me ideas! Good ideas!" Sherlock bellowed, flicking his dressing gown dramatically.
John rolled his eyes. "You've been bored for three days now, be a grown up and find yourself something to do," he shouted back.
Sherlock stopped dead and looked at John, a mischevious glint in his eyes.
"LEGAL things, Sherlock!" John added.
Sherlock deflated, then quickly threw himself into his own armchair, drumming his fingers wildly. He'd already experimented on every sample that Molly was able to give him, burned two of John's jumpers and smashed four coffee mugs. Fumbling around between the seat cushions , Sherlock made a somewhat relieved face as he pulled out a squashed packet of nicotine patches. John frowned as the detective put three patches on his pale forearm.
"Three? Really?" John asked, rolling his eyes.
"Bored," was the only reply he got.
John sighed and stood from the chair. Walking to the kitchen, he heard muffled mumbling from the disgruntled brunette. Mumbling which he chose to ignore. Sherlock was still fidgeting when John reemerged with his fresh cup of tea.
"You still not calmed down?" he asked.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No cases for three days, do you expect me not to be bored? I need to think, John! I need a puzzle, a case - ANYTHING!"
John picked up a newspaper and threw it to Sherlock, who seemed to have stopped moving altogether, his cheeks flushing a touch.
"What?" John questioned, before noticing the large bulge in the front of his friend's trousers.
"Right, okay. Uhh.." John averted his eyes. His mind provided him with an uncomfortably vivid image, one which he pushed aside as quickly as he could.
Sherlock jumed up and started pacing, complaining about his 'transport' and how inconvinient it could be. John's teeth were grinding, Sherlock's voice grating on his nerves at this point. An idea implanted itself into his head, and before he could think, he was standing in front of Sherlock.
"Sit," he demanded.
"What?"
"I said sit," John repeated.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "boring".
John stepped closer and brought his hand up to palm Sherlock's unwanted erection. The detective's eyes flew open and he sank down into his chair.
"Good. Now if you tell anybody about this, I swear to god I will actually kill you," John grunted, unbuttoning the front of Sherock's tight trousers, pulling them down enough to allow John acccess to his crotch.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock stammered, hands clenching into fists every time John brushed his cock.
"You're bored and I'm annoyed at you," he replied, running his fingers under the waistband of Sherlock's pants, sliding them down to free him from the fabric, "I'm shutting you up".
Impressive, John thought, taking in the sight. John tried to fight off any arousal that tried to creep it's way into him, focusing on keeping Sherlock quiet. That was all it was. To stop him from being so annoying.
Sherlock tried to speak, but was silenced by the overwhelming pleasure of John's tongue running up the underside of his cock from base to tip. A loud moan escaped his lips, only to be replaced by a shocked gasp as John took Sherlock into his mouth, swirling his tongue as he slid his mouth down and sucking as he pulled his head back. John's own cock twitched at the sounds his friend was making, and he quickened his pace, trying to ignore his own arousal. Sherlock writhed and moaned as John's head bobbed up and down, his pleasure quickly building. Sherlock finally came with a loud cry of John's name. The shout and the sight of Sherlock debautched sent shivers through the doctor, who was definitely more than a little hard himself.
"You're not bored now, are you?" John smirked.
"Oh my god!"
Both John and Sherlock's heads turned quickly to the doorway to find Greg Lestrade, mouth agape in horror.
"God, Greg, how long were you standing there?" John stammered, his face as red as a cherry.
"Long enough to see you playing the clarinet with Sherlock's..." he trailed off, shivering, "I came to see you about a case".
Sherlock finished buttoning his trousers and jumped up. "Felatio from John and now a proper case? It's Christmas!" he cried, disposing of his dressing gown and replacing it with his coat.
John stood in the living room, face utterly burning. He had a feeling Greg would never let him live this down.