Sherlock and his date sat at a small table, bathed in the light of a pygmy yellow candle. Sherlock smiled suavely at his sweet affair, who gobbled back, brushing his golden hair from his eyes. The perfect couple were just finishing dessert and Sherlock was already thinking eagerly about what would happen when they retired for the evening.
"How do you like the pudding?" he rodomontade, rotating his spoon suggestively in his bowl of treacle tart and CUSTARD.
"Oooh, it's wonderful!" the ripped hunk across the table breathed, blushing rosy-red and batting his eyelids flirtatiously.
"I'm glad you think so." The lank detector drawled, leaning across the mesa to stare into the warrior's bitty opticals. The happenin' soldier beamed and clasped his meaty fists around Sherlock's pointy phalanges.
"I can't wait 'til the eventide." The bimbo screeched. Sherlock smirked at his vixen's enthusiasm.
"Neither can I…" he droned, his monotone vocals as enticing as a marauding dung-thief.
Suddenly Jean-Claude approached their table, brandishing a credit card reader.
"Very good evening to ye, boys!" He vocalised, winking suggestively. "Will that be all or are you ready to leave?"
Sherlock raised his eyebrows quizzically at his dapper date. "Are we ready to rumble?" he rasped, licking his lips in a sexual fashion. His date replied with a saucy nod, and the two rose and glided out of Speedy's Café.
Sherlock and his plump plus-one arrived at 221B Baker Street with seconds to spare. Sherlock fumbled in his bag for his keys, his hands shaking with lust. "Alright, baby. This is where the fun starts!" he addressed the man, "I just hope John's not in. That would be awkward."
"Affirmative." Broached the tasty hot dish. "Let's hope he isn't. Otherwise we'd have to go back to my place, and I don't think I could wait that long!"
Sherlock cachinnated with suggestive glee and pushed open the door. "Let's get this party started!"
"hey, Sherlock? Do you have any pop-tarts? I'm starving!" rapped the hungry horse, rootling around in the cupboards.
"Still hungry?" Sherlock ranted, peeling off his windcheater. "We just had dinner!"
The stocky slapper raised his eyebrows. "Maybe I'm hungry for something else…" he wheezed, pointing at Sherlock.
Sherlock gyrated in the direction of the mystery hooker, whipping off his deerstalker hat and tossing it across the room with the finesse of a world-class discus champion.
"I'm all yours, baby." The gorgeous nerd crooned, pirouetting on the spot to show off his corpus. He unbuttoned his M & S shirt to reveal a tattoo: a heart with one word in the centre:
Thor.
"OOOOOH!" screamed the squashy demi-god, seizing handfuls of Sherlock's trousers in his hands. "Lemme at you, you stud!"
Sherlock tittered with lust and ran his hands through the squat Asgardian's golden beard, straddling his spindly legs around Thor's waist. Thor charged into the failed detectives bedroom and threw his pale-faced partner onto the bed, hissing and thrusting passionately as he tore off his leather chaps and breastplate, chain mail flinging in all directions until he was left in nothing but his long crimson cape.
Sherlock screamed with over-excitement, rushing to his safe to bust out contraception. "Hurry! I must have "Mjolnir" inside me before the day is out!"
Thor was just warming up his buns for the task ahead, so when he heard this, he was confused "Mjolnir? I don't think she'll fit…"
. "You misunderstand me, Odinson. Said Sherlock, reaching towards Thor's toned loins. "By Mjolnir I meant… your manhood."
Thor understood. "Good show! I was getting worried. Well, in I go!"
Sherlock gasped "Stop! Stop! I'm not ready!" He gasped, grappling frantically at his artichoke hearts to give Thor a "clear road". He grinned up at the outsized Viking. "Now I'm ready!"
"Good!" shouted Thor, forcing his mighty hammer inside Sherlock's moist cave. Sherlock wailed and grooved as the mighty avenger oscillated within him.
"Oh!OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Sherlock sang, clutching at Thor's flowing locks. "MORE!"
"SMORES, DIDJA SAY?" Thor panted, sweating with the exertion of ramming the slim hottie.
"NO." Sherlock gasped, seizing Thor's manly pecs and pummelling them into submission.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!" Squeaked the Mighty Thor, blushing and rearing.
"I have a plan!" Sherlock squawked, pushing Thor away. Thor toppled backwards into the wastepaper bin, his naked buns akimbo.
Sherlock was ferociously turned on by this, and responded by kissing Thor's buttocks repeatedly. Thor fell head over heels onto the floor, his hair full of old pieces of paper and sweet wrappers. He looked ravishing.
"I am sorry for pushing you into the bin." Sherlock said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.
"Nay, it is fine!" Thor said, springing back to his feet. He began to do a sensual dance, and Sherlock felt faint with passion.
"Thor… I need you." He crooned, seizing a magnifying glass from the bedside table.
"What are you doing with that?" Thor quizzed, pausing mid-dance.
"I shall make you mine!" Sherlock roared, and pushed the magnifying glass into Thor's rear. Thor yodelled with shock, and Sherlock pumped the magnifying glass until Thor was screeching with pleasure.
"How do you like being deduced?!" Sherlock quoth.
Thor roared with delight as Sherlock's magnified mano coursed in the depth of his digestive system.
"Don't stop now!" he honked, bashing his buns into Sherlock's face to keep him motivated.
"I must, for my brazo is tired," proclaimed Sherlock Holmes. "But don't worry, I have many more devious deeds to perform for your pleasure!" He raced to the toilet and came back into the room with a mammoth bowl of haribo.
Thor looked up from his plate of stew. "What are those for?" He challenged the consulting cutie.
"These succulent sweet-meats with revive me!" Sherlock beat-boxed, stuffing a handful of starmix into his shrewd snapper.
"Me too!" demanded Thor, snatching the bowl from his smooth jaunt and gorging himself silly.
"Don't eat them all, we will need them for what we're about to do!" Sherlock cautioned. "Allow me to demonstrate."
He tossed a fried egg high into the rafters and then dove onto the floor. "hit the deck!" he roared "it's raining eggs!"
Thor shrieked in excitement and leapt from the bed, eager to join his brawny brassica on the carpet. The egg fell and Sherlock caught it in his drooling maw. Thor fluttered his eyelashes.
"oh, Sherlock." He whispered, and suddenly the pair were full of love and hope for the future. "Let's elope."
Sherlock growled with lust. "yeah, sure, after I'm done with you and your hot bod."
"No!" Thor whined. "I want you to love me for me, not just my appearance! I am a person, not just your one night stand." He folded his arms like a cross aunt.
Sherlock blew a raspberry. "I'm a lone wolf," The rangy nature-lover scoffed, chomping away at his fried egg.
Thor burst into tears. "I'll kill you!"
Sherlock was alarmed to hear this. "Stay back! I have a gun!"
"What use is a gun when I have the mightiest hammer in all midgard!?" Thor demanded, wielding Mjolnir and advancing on his evil ex with rage in his fish-eyes.
"Please Thor! You're making the biggest mistake of your life! Don't do it!" screamed the anteater in the abattoir, pulling his AK-47 from his coat.
"I don't want to kill you, Sherlock" the dumpy desperado admitted. "I just want you to love me!"
Sherlock saw his one opportunity to avoid being butchered like a bull and took it.
"But I do love you!" he blagged frantically. " Scope my tattoo! It shows I am yours forever!"
Thor stopped in his wide tracks. "Good point!" He gurned, putting down his girthy gavel. "I knew we we're infinite! Come to bed, and we can celebrate our happenin' hook-up in style!"
Sherlock was so relieved he actually smiled. " Of course!" he bellowed. "commence the 69 position!"
Thor threw his thunderbuns onto the bed and Sherlock joined him.
Sherlock was just checking out Thor's 'areas' when there was a clunking sound from downstairs.
"Sherlaaaawk!" came a whiny, nasal call.
"Shit! It's that butters dwarf!" Sherlock groaned, leaping up from the bed. He could never let his corpulent cell-mate find out about his secret affair – he would never respect him again!
Suddenly, Sherlock knew what he had to do.
He seized his AK-47 and shot Thor to death.
"What's going on?" the stupid man called up the stairs. "Sherlock, are you alright?"
Sherlock stared at his ex, who was lying dead in a pool of guano. He felt ashamed, and wished that he had never met that wretched Jean Claude.
Jean Claude was an angel of death.