Mycroft learns why he should always knock. Written with Quadrophenia73 and intended for adults due to sexy fun times. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: Not ours!
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John Watson had to be the luckiest man in the world.
For the past three days, he and Sherlock had not left their flat for the past three days, ever since Thursday afternoon when a close call forced John to confess exactly how he felt for his best friend. To his joy, the feeling was mutual. When they arrived home that afternoon, all electronic devices had been shut off (with the exception of the occasional call for carryout, because they couldn't starve to death) and the rest of the world was forgotten as a momentous shift occurred between them.
John stretched lazily on his stomach and curled his toes. Sherlock was sleeping on top of John's back, snoring quietly into John's ear. John lifted his head slightly and murmured the younger man's name.
"Sherlock. Wake up."
Sherlock groaned and buried his face against the back of John's head, lightly touching John's bare shoulders with his fingertips. "What?" he murmured sleepily.
John suddenly rolled them over so that he had Sherlock pinned to the mattress. Then he grabbed the younger man's hip and squeezed it. He would never get enough of this man.
Sherlock smirked and leaned closer, pressing kisses against John's collarbone and chest. His sly smile widened when he felt John's arousal.
The older man moaned quietly when Sherlock purposefully brushed against his arousal. "Sherlock..."
This man was going to be the death of him.
After their early morning tryst and a nice, long shower, John and Sherlock ventured into the living room. John went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee while Sherlock, complacent in all his nudity, dropped onto the couch and turned on the telly.
Once the coffee was brewing, John lazily headed into the living room. He spotted Sherlock strewn out on his stomach, and without a word he dropped down onto the younger man and buried his face between Sherlock's shoulder blades.
Sherlock let out a content sigh when he felt John's warm and bare skin touch against his back. He rolled onto his side and pulled John against him so that every inch of the shorter man's back was pressed against him.
John shuddered and reached behind himself to lightly caress Sherlock. "I want you again."
"Then have me," Sherlock growled.
Grinning wickedly, John rolled both of them onto the floor. Then he sat up, pulling Sherlock along with him so they were both on their knees. Sherlock moaned and John reveled gleefully in the sound.
"Oh, yes, love. You're mine."
Mycroft Holmes was concerned. He had not heard from his brother in three days, nor had he seen him on any of his cameras positioned around Sherlock's flat. His concern had evolved to the point where he had his driver take him to Baker Street. He'd had a copy of Sherlock's key made months ago, so he let himself right into the building, then headed upstairs. When he reached his brother's door, he pulled out the key again. As he slid it into the lock, a muffled scream from his brother sent him into a panic. He shoved the door opened and his eyes went wide.
John had Sherlock bent over the coffee table and was furiously thrusting his hips against Sherlock's as he held onto the younger man for dear life.
Sherlock moaned as John's thrusts became more forceful and passionate. "Mm..." he murmured, his entire body stiffening as an incredible icy sensation shot down his spine. They were both blissfully unaware that the door had opened.
Mycroft stumbled backwards and tried to avert his eyes. "Bloody hell..."
John looked up from the task at hand and glared at Mycroft. "Get out!"
"Sorry..." Mycroft kept one hand over his eyes as he turned and stumbled out of the flat.
"That was inconsiderate of him," Sherlock mused, returning all of his attention to John.
"Shh..." John tightened his grip on Sherlock's hips and started to move again.
"Fantastic," Sherlock grunted contently.
John smiled smugly as he claimed Sherlock as his own once more.
Next time, Mycroft would be sure to knock.
The End.