A Fist Full of Sherlock
John and Sherlock were lounging around at Baker St, Sherlock in a long argyle bathrobe. John was across the room reading the paper while Sherlock played his violin, violently and without tune. There was a knock at the door and Sherlock stopped swinging the bow around and looked up, eyes wide, jaw slacked, mouth agape. "John, John!" He called out again and again, like a lost child. John lowered the newspaper and leveled his gaze across the top of reading glasses at Sherlock. "I'm right here, what is it?" Sherlock spun around. "There you are, someone's at the door, could you get it?" John snatched the reading glasses off his face and gestured with them towards Sherlock. "You want me to get up and walk right past where you're standing and open the door?" Sherlock tilted his head, curiously. "John, look, I'm high on drugs, I look like shit and it might be the police. Could you please get the door?"
John groaned as he pushed himself out of his stuffed chair and walked past Sherlock, who had gone back to abusing the violin. He quietly descended the stairs and put his ear to the door, but didn't hear anything. "Yes, who's there?" He heard a woman giggle. "It's Scotland yard, open up, hahahaha" Then there was a man's voice. "Okay, Rose, that's enough. It's the Doctor and my friend Rose. We're friends of Sherlock." John stepped away from the door, a puzzled look on his face. "Friends of Sherlock?" he said under his breath, since Sherlock didn't have any friends. "Hang on a second." John bolted up the stairs and poked his head in the room. "Friends of your's, should I send them away?" Sherlock stopped flinging the bow around and turned to John with a somber look on his face. "What, oh, uh, no. Send them up." John rolled his eyes at Sherlock as hard as he could and went back down the stairs.
The door swung open and John greeted them with a handshake and his name and rank. "So you're a doctor?" John asked the Doctor. "Are you Sherlock's psychiatrist or something?" John looked over at a blond woman wearing jeans and a t-shirt. "I'm not that kind of doctor." Rose whipped out the psychic paper wallet and shoved it in John's face. "Booty police?" He read out loud with a puzzled smirk on his face. Rose smiled at him like she was just thrilled at his reaction. "Right this way, he's upstairs, playing with himself." Rose snorted with laughter as she and the Doctor walked in, past John. "Sherlock, it's me, I got your message." Sherlock rushed to meet them. "Splendid! Come with me, Doctor. We have some important matters to discuss." Sherlock grabbed the Doctor by the wrist and dragged him into his bedroom, shutting the door behind himself.
"You don't think that's strange?" Rose asked as she ran her fingers up John's chest. "You wouldn't believe the things that don't shock me anymore." John said with a vacant gaze, which he turned to Rose. "Try me. I'm a time traveler." Rose continued to drag her fingertips up him until she had them behind his head and she pulled his face to hers to kiss him, but he broke free. "What the hell are you trying to do?" John looked at her, an expression of indignation crossing his face. "I read Sherlock's message, did he not tell you?" Rose seemed alarmed. "I'm a married man, a happily married man and-" "His wife is a murderer!" Sherlock shouted through the door. "She's not a murderer, she's an assassin, ex-assassin, and she would absolutely murder me if she knew this was going on." Sherlock piped in again. "Murderer!"
Rose unfolded the sheet of stationary and held it where John could read it. The note was mostly just a cock drawn in pencil with what could only be described as streams of jizm emanating from the tip. Below, in Sherlock's hand writing was a post script and John took his reading glasses from his top pocket and put them on. "P.S. Bring Rose, she can fuck John if she fancies him. He's very uptight lately and his murderer wife probably takes him with a- what's that word there?" He turns it to rose. "Takes you with a strap on, John!" Sherlock shouted again through the closed door. Sherlock could be heard snickering at himself and the color drained from John's face.
"There's nothing to be ashamed about, your friend Sherlock loves getting his ass-" John raised a shushing finger at Rose. "Stop, just stop. Just when I think I'm too jaded to be shocked, there is this. This is actually too much." John mopped the sweat that was hanging on his forehead. "I need to have a sit down, maybe a drink." Rose followed him with her eyes as he left the room for the kitchen. When he returned, he had a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He slumped back in his chair and poured some into his mug.
"Look, John, I didn't think you would react like this." John sipped from the mug and grimaced. She came closer and sat across his lap. "No, no, no, no, a million times no." John continued to protest. "What's wrong, you don't think I'm pretty?" Rose stroked his hair with her fingers and he looked up at her with his eyes glossy. "I've only just met you, the two of you. I don't even know you, what do you expect me to do? I don't even know how to react, I don't do this sort of thing. I'm a married man, you know." She stroked his cheek with the backs of her nails and John took another sip from the mug.
"I'm feeling a bit better, now, thank you. Now just get up from my lap and maybe pull up a chair." John motioned with his hand like he was shooing a cat from his lap. "No." Rose unbuckled her belt and popped the button on her jeans. "What are you doing?" She laughed, softly and took him by the wrist and guided his hand under her shirt to her chest. "What is this, what are you doing, don't do that, oh god I can't be doing this." With her fingers over his, she squeezed at her breast and John could feel how soft her skin was against his work hardened palm. She slipped a strap over her shoulder and guided both their hands into the cup of her bra where her nipple brushed against his callused fingers. She stretched her back and sighed at the sensation. "Now, look I know I've told you I really shouldn't be doing this. If you would just maybe take a step back and we can go back to not cheating on my wife, we can just put this all behind us." She dragged his hand over her stomach, John fighting, but losing the battle with himself to touch her skin.
"John, get the camera, you need to see this." Sherlock shouted through the door. John looked puzzled, but Rose put a finger to his lip to shush him. "It's incredible! John get in here." She continued to guide his hand over her rising chest and John winged a bit. "Lovely evening we're having, did I tell you I'm married to a complete psychopath? If I left that part out, I'm truly sorry."
"Please stop talking." She dragged his hand past her navel and he coughed nervously. "Okay, that's enough, you've had your fun, I don't think-" John stopped talking when his fingertips met warm, soft flesh. She hoisted her self high enough to take hold of the back of her pants and strip them up her thighs and she sat back down. Now just John's hand in her underwear and she kicked the jeans the rest of the way off her calves. "What am I doing?" John said timidly and he tried to withdraw his hand from her, but she grasped it through the fabric and squeezed his hand against her body. "You act like you've never touched a woman before." John's mouth fell open and he turned his head away. "Aaah, of course, just not this way." His face redder than ever. "Kiss me, god dammit." John could feel how turned on she was getting. "You know, I don't think I should." She nuzzled him and he tried to resist. "It's just that I love my wife and all and I kiss my wife, you're a stranger. Is it even really appropriate?" She loosened her grasp on his hand and he pulled it away. "John Watson, you're such a boner killer, you know that, right?" Rose put one leg at a time back into her jeans and walked out the door. "Well, that was new and interesting experience, Sherlock I need to talk to you about something." John said, raising his voice so he could hear him through the door.
John swung the door open and was met with Sherlock on his back, his legs spread and the Doctor rhythmically thrusting his cock into Sherlock's bottom. Sherlock tilted his head back to get a look at John. "John, I've come three times." John looked away while Sherlock's eyes rolled back in his head. "Wait, make that four times." John frowned and rolled his eyes at Sherlock. "That's really great, why did you tell Rose that I would cheat on my wife with her?" The Doctor groaned and pulled his cock out of Sherlock and aimed for his stomach with an ounce or two of thick, white cum. "I need to go home, Sherlock, goodbye." John turned around and walked out. "John, I need a towel. John? I know you can hear me."
Mary was in the kitchen when John got home, reading a book. She smiled and gave him a hug, but as she was pulling away, she stopped. She sniffed his neck, his shirt and finally his hands. A grim expression washed over her face. "I hope you were just eating sushi with your fingers." John looked distraught "Oh god, Mary. It's not what you think. She,she- I didn't know how to tell you." A kitchen knife stuck in the wall next to his head and he ducked two more. "I know you still love me, you're missing on purpose, now let me explain. This is just a big misunderstanding. It was Sherlock's fault I would never-" He went unconscious when Mary hit him with a chair.
John was starting to come to while Sherlock shook him. "You were having a bad dream, John wake up." John squinted his eyes and could make out Sherlock's face over him. "You were saying something about cheating on Mary with a time traveler." John yawned. "Thank god, that was a nightmare." But when he went to stretch his shoulders he noticed his arms were handcuffed behind his back. "This isn't Baker Street, Sherlock, where am I, why am I in hand cuffs?" John opened his eyes wide and looked around. "Handcuffed to a chair, to be exact." Sherlock took his robe off and revealed some studded leather bikini and nothing else. "Okay, I guess you can go first. What the hell are you doing to me, Sherlock?" Mary stepped in, black leather and studs and she had a whip in her hand. "You and Sherlock? How could you do this? Where the hell am I?"
He looked around, but didn't recognize the dimly lit room they were in. "You're in our basement, Me and Sherlock set it up like this. Not bad, huh?" A wave of fear and panic spread through John like electricity. "You two are sleeping together and you want me out of the picture, and now you're going to kill me? Mary, please think about this." Sherlock started laughing and then Mary started in with him. "You two are perfect for each other. Mary, and I know that's not your real name, you and Sherlock are a bunch of asperger sociopaths and I'm actually glad to be rid of you two. Even if it means death." Sherlock looked hurt. "We're not going to kill you, we're just going to discipline you. And I'm not sleeping with Sherlock, we just take turns whipping each other. And we like the leather, it's fun." Mary lights a cigarette and exhales smoke in Sherlock's face. "He's gay anyway, isn't he?" Sherlock corrected her. "I'm not really anything, to tell you the truth." Mary looked intrigued. "Haven't you ever tried?" Sherlock gasped. "What, a woman? What for?" John was getting nervous again and his eyes darted between them as Mary closed the gap and violently kissed Sherlock.
"Guys, please. Can we cut this out? I probably have a concussion, no I absolutely have a mild concussion." John hopped his chair so he wouldn't have to face them while they groped each other. He glanced over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Mary with a fist full of Sherlock and a partial mouth full at the same time. Sherlock caught his eye and winked at him and mouthed O.K. at him, which made John groan with agony."Stop! Enough! I get it! Un cuff me, safe word! Oh god, Sherlock." Sherlock was inquiring to Mary about how to remove her fairly complicated studded bottom, so she could more effectively smother him with her minge, when they noticed John was staring at them, a vacant look in his eyes. "I think we broke him." Sherlock waved his hand over John's eyes. "We need to un cuff him, Mary. I don't think our John is having a good time."
Mary lit another cigarette, handed one to Sherlock while he unlocked the cuffs. At the moment they hit the floor, John was up and at Sherlock's throat. "Why would you do this to me? Why?" Sherlock choked through John's strong grip. "It was her idea, the whole thing." John loosened his grip and let Sherlock go. "Why? You still haven't told me why!" John was fuming. "Surprise!" John looked puzzled. " Surprise, what? What am I missing here?" Sherlock rubbed his throat "Surprise, John." Mary stood over him. "You forgot about your own birthday?" John looked confused and got up from the ground, brushed himself off. "Why can't I have normal friends? Why is everyone I know such a disturbed individual?" Sherlock got up and wrapped the robe around himself. "We have cake and ice cream upstairs, John. Happy birthday, my friend." John rubbed his head. "I'm in hell, I'm in a coma, I'm still in Afghanistan, I am imagining this, this cannot really be happening. My wife and my best friend are completely insane."