Bad Boy
Sherlock stretched. What a nice day! Lazily, he looked over to his new girlfriend, who was reading a book. Trash lit, of course... But these days, he just needed a girlfriend every once in a while. Without the promise of irregular sex and diamonds, he couldn't make anybody listen to his deductions for hours on end. Usually, Sherlock would be bored on a day like this, but he had just reorganized his mind palace and now he would nick some newspapers to see of he could find any new cases. Besides, he could work on his tan. He had heard that Jennifer, the new waitress at the pub across the street, liked tanned guys. And working in a Pub, she must be a good listener. She would have to quit her job, of course, but Sherlock could afford that.
Sarah looked up from her book and smiled at him. "You're alright, honey?" Honey... Sherlock suppressed a frown, but in his career as a world famous detective he had learnt that you had to be nice to the girls to keep them for a while. Stupid as most of them were. "Wonderful, darling," he purred. Besides, he could practice his acting skills with her. He had already managed to fake an orgasm twice, something which was supposed to be impossible for men. He kissed Sarah, a simple brushing of lips, but sometimes that was all a woman needed.
When he looked up again, Sherlock's eyes fell on a short blond man who was walking by. And stayed there. Broad shoulders, slight limp, probably symptomatic, hadn't gotten a leg over recently, but certainly wanted to... Suddenly, the man looked up and their eyes met. "Soldier, he used to be a soldier," Sherlock's mind supplied, but for some reason he couldn't quite concentrate.
"Honey?" This time Sherlock almost scowled. "What is it?" "Who is that guy?" "I don't know." "Of course you do, you know everything," Sarah purred, "come on, detect something for me!" "Oh for God's sake," Sherlock said and walked over to the guy, who suddenly looked away, probably aware that he was staring. Which was impolite. Which Sherlock liked. "Iraq or Afghanistan?", he asked. "Sorry?" "The war you've been in, was it Iraq or Afghanistan?", Sherlock asked, more patiently than usual. Those blue eyes, not quite innocent, but so soft... "Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you...?" "You're walking like you're from the military. When I started talking to you, you stood to attention, so you came back recently. Tan, but not above the wrists, so work, not pleasure. Warm country, then. Only fitting countries we're currently invading are Iraq and Afghanistan. Easy, really."
"Brilliant," the blond man said. "That's not what people usually say," Sherlock remarked. "What do they usually say?" "'Piss off' or 'Can I have an autograph?'" The other man laughed. "You are famous then?" "Kind of," Sherlock snorted, "but I am trying to keep a low profile." "Why?" "They were trying to make me wear a deerstalker!" The blond man laughed again. "I'm John, by the way, John Watson." "My name is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes." They shook hands. John's grip was firm, his hand only slightly trembling. Yes, a shag would definitely do him good, Sherlock mused.
Sarah came over to them. "Sherlock, don't you want to introduce me?" "Shush," Sherlock answered, "go inside, I think I've seen one of those make-up giveaways lying around you like to try out." Sarah smiled and gave him a peck on the lips. "You really know what a woman needs," she said, threw her mane of blond hair back and walked back into the house, her hips moving from side to side. Sherlock didn't even look.
"Your girlfriend?", John asked. "For this week, yes." "She's beautiful... wait, did you say for this week?" "I usually change them every week, otherwise they get unbearable." John stared at him. "Oh come on," Sherlock huffed, "you would get bored by her as well." "Why don't you find someone more intelligent then?" "They try to compete with me and that gets boring too... besides, many criminals have a weakness for beautiful woman, especially when they are blond." "Criminals? What's your profession then? You don't look like a police officer." Sherlock smiled. "Detective," he announced proudly, "consulting detective, the only one in the world." "So you take her to cases then? As a... mascot?" "I don't need a mascot. But she helps me think. I need someone to talk to, to tell everything I have detected. And I can't take a scull to crime places, especially not when I need both of my hands and need to get there quickly."
"But wouldn't that be easier as well, if you had someone intelligent with you? Maybe someone who would see the case from a different angle?" "Are you applying for a job?" "No... that's not what I meant," John looked slightly confused, "I just wanted to say... you're too good for her." He blushed slightly then. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He hadn't thought of that option yet. "You want a shag then?" John stared at him again, mouth slightly open. Which looked slightly stupid. Which looked slightly attractive for Sherlock. "No, no... I'm not gay!", John exclaimed. "Of course," Sherlock said, "your place or mine?" "Your girlfriend just..." "Oh, don't mind her... it's not like she has never seen two guys having sex before... might be her first time seeing it live, though." "But you're her boyfriend." Sherlock frowned. "You think this might be a problem?" "Oh for Christ's sake." John turned around and started to leave.
Sherlock followed him. "Wait, where are you going?" "You can detect that, can't you?" Sherlock stepped in front of him and griped both of his shoulders. "Wait." "What for? That you turn into a beautiful mermaid?" Sherlock looked at him in confusion. "People tend to find my appearance attractive." "You're a monster!", John said, "I will not be the one to help you break your girlfriend's heart. And then, if anyone is still interested, I'm really not gay." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She's not IN LOVE with me, if that's what you mean. She's just after my fame and money." "That doesn't make it alright, Sherlock! You can't just run around shagging other people!", John shouted.
Sherlock ogled him, but still didn't loosen his grip. This VOICE! "Maybe you should teach me some manners, then," he almost whispered. "What?" "Manners, John. You want me to be nice, right? What if you just... make me?" "I don't think I can just 'make you' a good person, Sherlock. There are too many things you already did." But John didn't step back, Didn't try to escape Sherlock's grip. "Punish me then," Sherlock said. John frowned. "Is this some kink of you? Spanking? Pain? Really Sherlock?"
Sherlock let go of John's shoulders and stepped back from the shorter man. What the hell was he doing? He never had sex with a man before, he had never been interested... long preparations, you had to be very careful the first time, he had heard... he preferred it quick and pain free. But then these blue eyes caught him again. "Answer me," John barked, now seeming to be aware of the power his voice had over the detective. "I don't know, really," Sherlock answered, hesitantly. It was always hard to admit that he didn't know something.
"Kiss me, then," John said. Sherlock frowned. Obviously, John was sure that the detective wouldn't do it, but Sherlock never showed any fear. He leaned in and kissed John softly on the lips. At first, the shorter man was too surprised to react, but then he answered the kiss, which slowly became more heated. It had to do with the weather, of course. The sun always made Sherlock a bit giddy. The detective grabbed John's head with both hands to have more control over the kiss, which the shorter man only answered by putting his hands in the detective's hair and pulling at it.
John nudged the taller man's lips open with his tongue, which soon resulted in a tongue fight both men were eager to win. Finally, John broke the kiss and gasped. "Bedroom." "With my girlfriend in it?", Sherlock asked. "Oh, you prick," John growled. His head seemed to be still spinning from the kiss. Sherlock laughed and started removing John's t-shirt.
"What are you doing?", John asked. "Obvious, isn't it?" "We're next to a public pool, in the middle of a sidewalk, in broad daylight." "Private pool," Sherlock corrected him, "and on a work day, in a calm area. It's not like anyone's around. But if it bothers you..." He pulled on John's t-shirt and moved them closer towards the pool, so they were at least partly covered by bushes. Before John could react to that in any way, he was thoroughly snogged again, Sherlock working on his trousers this time. Before long, his trousers and pants had gone and Sherlock stopped kissing him for a moment, to remove his t-shirt completely. John took the chance to ask: "So this is all yours?" "Hum," Sherlock said, distracted by a scar on John's shoulder. "Bullet?", he asked.
John, suddenly self-conscious, murmured: "Yes, does it bother you?" Sherlock kissed the scar in reply and moved his hands down John's still muscular body, towards his groin. The smaller man also couldn't resist any longer and put his hands on Sherlock's wonderfully round ass. The detective began stroking John's cock, slowly and thoroughly, just like the smaller man liked it. They had started kissing again and John moaned into Sherlock's mouth, massaging the detective's ass with abandon. Soon, the taller man couldn't take it any longer and moved them to the edge of the pool.
Before John could realize what was happening, Sherlock moved away from him, got out of his swimming trunks, the only piece of clothing he had been wearing, and jumped into the water. But the blond man only took a moment to react and jumped in right after him. The water cooled both men down, but only for a minute. They started kissing again and soon they were rutting against each other, both incredibly hard. Sherlock tried to push John, but the smaller man used his compact muscular frame to turn them around and suddenly the detective was the one pressed against the wall of the pool.
They both moaned loudly when John had finally found a good position to push against Sherlock properly. "Yes, like that," Sherlock said and put his legs around John's ass. John, in his turn, put his hands on Sherlock's hips, having no problem holding him up in the water. Then he started moving, rubbing his cock against Sherlock's, who had put his arms around John. The detective bumped against the pool wall with every of the smaller man's pushes, but suddenly pain didn't matter any more, was almost pleasurable.
John kissed Sherlock again, messily, moving quicker at the same time. "Can you come like that?", he mumbled around the detective's mouth. The Sherlock gave an affirmative huff and moaned loudly into John's mouth. Suddenly, the shorter man's pushes became erratic, he put his head into his neck and shouted out. Sherlock felt a warm stream against his upper leg and this made him come as well. He moaned and pushed against John's stomach, still holding onto the shorter man's neck.
When he was spent, Sherlock went limp and was very grateful for the strong arms still holding him. "So, you're not gay and I'm not really interested in sex", he summed up the day's events. John laughed in reply. "And I still haven't tried the punishing thing."