Cockscomb

Summary:

Lace, whiskey, and a case full of cocks leads to a brand new kind of adventure.

"He doesn't get it," Sherlock said, covered the phone and pushed it into John's lap. "I do. I want to."

John frowned and slipped her hands out from under Sherlock's grip. She flipped the blinking phone back and forth and glanced up at Sherlock's hopeful scrutiny. "No sex?"

"No sex."

How could someone Dom -and what a scary word that was- if there was no sexual gratification involved?

Feminism, relationships, sexuality, cheating, manipulation, emotions, power, control, and cocks.

AKA The One With All The Cocks… When There Are No Cocks

(If you are put off by the gender bend, don't be. Please. Give it a shot and if it makes you uncomfortable you can always safeword ;D)

AN:

*sings* I need a beta. I don't know how to find a beta.

Warning: The word COCK is used no less than [70] times in this fic.

Also, I worked disgustingly hard on this, so if anyone sees anything amiss, kindly point it out. I will gladly fix any errors, including those that portray our favorite sleuths as anything but believably in character (forgiving that the gender bend does tweak their personalities a tad). Thank you :D

Disclaimers at the end of the fic.

Look

John glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. This was exactly why she did not bother with makeup. She could appreciate it as much as the next girl but whenever she tried to do more than mascara, she always managed to make herself look like she had been punched once in each eye by someone with pink tinted brass knuckles.

"Oh for the love of-" Sherlock huffed from the door. "Here-" She thrust out her arm, demanding the eyeshadow brush in John's hand, threw it into the sink and grabbed a new one.

John rolled her eyes but closed them and allowed Sherlock to work her miracles. "I don't know why you bother letting me try by myself. You always end up fixing it whenever we go undercover."

"I always hope you'll learn." Sherlock, with her always-perfect cat eyes, winked and grabbed something that looked like liquid gold. "Close."

John sighed and complied -the norm of their relationship thus far. "Explain to me again. Where exactly are we going that requires me to wear this?" John grabbed the edges of her form fitting black pleather dress, dangerously high cut with angled three quarter sleeves, and tried pulling it from her body. It did not budge. Her muscles and dresses did not usually mix. One of the reasons she preferred not to wear them.

"To a den of promiscuity," Sherlock chuckled darkly.

"That's not very reassuring."

"It wasn't meant to be."

John groaned and opened her eyes, shifting as Sherlock moved behind her- apparently needing to fix her already finished updo.

"Then why-" John puffed air at her bangs to get them out of her eyes. It never worked, which was why she had originally pulled them back, "-do you get to wear that?"

Sherlock looked down at her flowing floral sun dress, a soft white with splashes of red and pink, which looked more delicate and artistic than the crime scene it could have been, held up by its halter top ties. Its softness was very unlike her usual high-class, powerful, fashionista style.

"It's a dress too, John," she said in the tone she reserved for the extra slow.

John rolled her eyes again. "Yes, I can see that. But yours moves. I can barely sit in mine."

"Ah! Good point." Sherlock spun towards her bedroom, leaving John to look at her half finished hair in bafflement.

"What point," she mumbled to herself.

The black and blue punched-esque eyes were fixed, transformed into something purple and gold and brown and beautiful. She pet her thick eyelashes in appreciation and wondered how long it would take her to learn how to do this look. With Sherlock teaching her, probably twenty minutes.

Of course, that was assuming Sherlock would be patient enough to last for a full twenty minutes before she became fed up with John's many swear-filled twitchy fuckups and the sacrifice of six tubes of coverup to fix the mistakes.

John batted her eyes a dozen times, smiled coyly, and sighed.

If she were still single, she would definitely be on the pull tonight. Makeup, a skintight dress, lasting tan, and strappy heels… it would be like shooting fish in a very horny barrell.

John's eyes flickered to the door, hoping Sherlock would not deduce her mind well enough to hear that horrible analogy -no doubt delightfully willing to point out the flaw with the comparison of a wide, wet tub holding all the floppy pollocks, necessitating John defend her active sexual history and her perfectly tight vagina.

Martin would probably not appreciate her well established defense or any thoughts about picking up blokes. Especially not in a 'den of promiscuity'. Prostitution was one thing to fake, but if Sherlock expected her to jump on a pole and start stripping, well, she had another thing coming. Probably a heel swinging at her face on its descent from the ceiling. John was not wearing a bra in this thing and she was not about to flash for a case.

Unless she really, really, really needed to.

Sherlock reentered the room the instant John reached for the lipstick, slapped her hand away and picked up a lighter shade. "Pucker."

Whatever Sherlock had left to do for herself, John could not figure it out. She was wearing the floral dress and matching sensible shoes. Her hair, as always, was perfectly wavy and curved around her angled face in a graceful bob. Her makeup was as fantastic as ever. The only addition she could spy was a necklace. It was a black lace choker curled around her neck with black beads dangling from the lower half, tangled together in half circles, drawing the eyes down to those prominent collar bones. It was a bit gaudy for John's taste and really did not match the delicate floral dress but the red ruby heart sparkling in the center was quite cute.

John rolled her bright pink lips together and frowned preemptively. She would lick the color off in no time. Personally, she liked the darker shades, but Sherlock assured her they washed out her face.

"You look gorgeous," Sherlock told her hurriedly, shoving her around so she could finish the updo.

John smirked shortly and closed her eyes until Sherlock finished.

John could confidently say she looked rather fit even without any extra help by coloring her face in like a picture book. But Sherlock only ever seemed to compliment her whenever it was Sherlock doing the makeup. It was not her fault Sherlock always looked like sex on heels -even when in flats- and achieved forever even wing tips.

John snapped a quick picture when Sherlock was not looking and sent it off to Martin, adding a caption reading 'Sherlock is magic' .

Martin replied quickly, as always. You look great ;)

John sighed and tried -and failed- to tuck the phone into what little cleavage she had access too in the tightest dress on the planet, having learned the hard way that she should never carry a purse around Sherlock. It had been pinched more than once by said Consulting Detective and used to distract both the good and bad guys as a glittery misle. In one memorable instance, Sherlock had aimed for the open window of the passing perp's car, missed, and thrown John's favorite clutch complete with wallet, keys, and Harry's birthday present directly into the Thames.

John was contemplating wearing a bum bag just to keep her gun on her. Giggles be damned.

"No," Sherlock said, eyes squinting. "You would look ridiculous."

"I wasn't-"

"You were touching your stomach with both hands just below the belly button. Most would think you were contemplating carrying spawn in your womb. Instead, you contemplate adorning yourself with the ultimate form of contraception. Bum bag," Sherlock spat the words out as if the very idea were too hideous to even voice aloud.

Well, that put an end to that.

John's phone pinged. Be careful tonight Joan xoxo

"How nauseating," Sherlock pushed a bobby pin a bit harder than necessary against John's scalp. "Must Melvin mother you so much?"

"It's Martin," John corrected and batted Sherlock's hands away. "We've been together for a half a year. I think you can learn his name."

Sherlock huffed. "He can't learn yours."

"Joan is my name," John sighed.

"But not the one you prefer."

"He doesn't-"

"Yes, yes. He's homophobic. Anyone with eyes can see that."

John sat on the toilet and readjusted her strappy heels, praying to any Powers That Be that she would not have to chase a villain tonight. These shoes were brand new. A gift to herself after the last case because she had to put up with Sherlock after the idiot decided staying up for five days in a row was a good choice to make. They were well deserved indeed.

"I've told you, he's not homophobic. He just wants people to know who he's dating. Saying John gets confusing."

"Not that he tried," Sherlock mumbled around the pin in her mouth, bobbing like a cigarette.

John shook her head. They had circled this argument too many times before. She was actually surprised Sherlock would still have it.

Joan was the name on her birth certificate and John was a nickname from early army days. It was a completely sexist name earned for her ability to 'fight like a man' but she appreciated the memory and the name stuck.

Martin had every right to call her by her Christian name.

It was like starting a new chapter in her life, dating him. As such, he wanted to help her leave the Afghanistan chapter behind. It was time for Mrs. Joan H Watson, not Doc John W. He was never in the military, he did not understand her attachment to it.

Having to explain over and over that he was, in fact, dating a girl would get old.

John understood.

Sherlock mumbled something incoherent but it sounded like, "Girlfriend" and "Female".

"What?" John asked.

"Let's go," Sherlock said and glided out of the bathroom before John could fix her other shoe.

John's eyes flitted over the dimly lit room, her mouth open. When she finally landed on Sherlock, she growled, "Den of promiscuity?"

This was no normal club. There was a dance floor but it was small and everyone was packed tight together, rubbing up against each other to the sultry music, not one person actually dancing. The rest of the area was taken up by small dens and alcoves filled with couches and people in various states of undress doing nefarious acts to one another, each surrounded by hoards of rapt audience members. The bar was the best lit and there John could see couples -some in more than just pairs of two- in costumes of leather and lace beyond reasonable levels for any one outfit. Notably, one man held a girl at his feet with a metal link chain connected to a necklace looping around her neck above her schoolgirl crop top and skirt.

John's eyes darted to Sherlock's choker and she glared.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Keep looking angry at me like that."

"Oh, that will not be hard," John snapped.

"I thought you would be happy, John," Sherlock pouted, shamming it perfectly. "You get to tell me what to do for the night."

"We are in-" John quieted as another couple passed them and dropped her voice to a whisper. "We are in a sex club. Together. As in together together. In a sex club!" She glared at a pulley system in the corner that had an enthusiastic twenty something tied into it by his bulky boyfriend -or lover or dominatrix or whatever he was. "Did Ian put you up to this?"

"Ian?"

"Ian Adler."

Sherlock shivered with either revulsion or desire, John could never be sure.

"That man has no part in this," Sherlock spat. "Our client simply needs us to prove his sister's boyfriend killed their aunt."

"Oh well, if that's all, then-"

"Later," Sherlock threw a finger over her lips and gestured to the bar, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Three o'clock. Chubby man with the red beard that's grown to an ungodly length. Blue button up that's stretched beyond all reasonable levels. Sweat stains visible under the arms and chest."

John found the man she was talking about and curled her nose up.

"My thoughts exactly," Sherlock said. "He's trying to pick up a sub. He's not having luck with the blonde, she's not that desperate. But the brunette on his other side is. That is until he meets me."

"You mean-" John grabbed her by the arm. Another sweep of the immediate area revealed no threats but she still pulled Sherlock close enough for their legs to touch and their foreheads to bump. "You want to go-" She fanatically flapped her hand between them. "With him?"

"God no," Sherlock slapped her hand away, repulsed. "I need to observe. We will be here for at least a half hour before I try anything. Or should I say, you do."

"What are you bloody-"

"Drink first." Sherlock pushed John towards the bar. "Then mingle. Remember, tell me what to do."

John nearly tripped in her new heels and grit her teeth. There was no point in arguing now that they were already there. Which was probably exactly according to Sherlock's plan.

When they reached the blessed bar the girl with the chain was sucking her boyfriend off. Fantastic. John's face heated up and she glanced back at the floor.

Sherlock nudged her with her elbow. "Eyes up. My eyes are down."

"Right," John growled. She was the dominatrix or whatever. Double fantastic.

After ordering drinks, John led them to the less occupied alcove of couches, hoping that Sherlock would get all she needed from afar and they would not have to do anything… indecent. She decided then and there that this case would not be making it into the Sherlock memoirs and she would definitely be fudging the details for the blog and Martin's sake.

"Is Marco really that much of a prude?" Sherlock asked, gracefully sinking to her knees in front of the couch.

"Martin," John corrected automatically. She tried to sit down next to Sherlock, but Sherlock looked up at her with wide eyes, frantically shaking her head.

"You sit on the couch," Sherlock urged between her teeth. "Only subs sit on the floor."

"Oh," John fumbled with the drink in her hand, eyes darting around the room. There were a few set of eyes on her, all with equally befuddled expressions. "Right."

It was very hard to sit on a squeaky couch when her dress squeaked too. The tight fit cut into her stomach and she was not quite sure how to drape her legs without revealing too much thigh.

"John," Sherlock grunted from the floor. "If we are going to make this convincing, you need to act like you fit in."

That was Sherlock's your tiny brain is starting to irritate me voice but John could not be asked to care. "If I had known we would be going to a sex club, I might have prepared a little more." After a second she added, "Or just not gone at all."

"Not according to your browser history," Sherlock mumbled.

John's red face turned purple and her eyes ducked to her chipped nails stretched across her rum and coke. If Sherlock was researching her porn habits, which were perfectly normal thank you very much, John would seriously need to consider buying a separate computer for purely personal purposes.

"I'd find it on any device," Sherlock replied to her unvoiced thought. "Quick, act like a Dom. Someone is coming. Say this is your first time taking me out. Ask for a demonstration. And for god's sake, observe. Look. Learn how to behave. I need to keep my eyes on chubby."

John wanted to growl something about how horribly inappropriate this was and how Sherlock really crossed a line putting John into this situation without them having any sort of talk first, but Sherlock's head was already down and the couple ahead were fast approaching.

The Dom in this relationship was a beautiful, thick, dark woman. Half her head was shaved, revealing a glittery gold earing that dangled all the way down her leather corset. And, of course, she had leather pants as well.

Was leather always necessary for a Dom?

The sub was a cute, petite but curvy girl, her tiny blue dress shining against her glowing white skin and platinum blonde hair. Her eyes were downcast as her Dom led the way into the circle and took a seat near but not too close to John, not even acknowledging Sherlock in any way.

John nodded and she nodded back before gesturing for her sub to kneel beside her, closer to Sherlock. Sherlock's head tilted to the side, deducing easily before shifting her focus back to the bearded man.

"I'm Alex," the Dom said and held out her hand.

John took it and replied, "Joan," before grasping her drink again. It was always better to use her given name when under cover. Less questions.

"We don't see a lot of lesbian couples here," Alex said warmly, saluting John with her cup of whiskey. "It's nice to see you out. Are you new here?"

"Yeah." John shifted closer, leaning into Sherlock so she could be heard over the music. "It's my first time taking Sherly here out." She plopped her hand down on Sherlock's head and gave it a pat, knowing how much she hated that nickname and how much she would loath having her hair mussed up without being able to fix it. Tiny victories.

"This is Beth," Alex said, gesturing towards her sub. Beth did not move at all, just stared resolutely at the floor with her hands behind her back. "We've been coming here for over two years now. You'll love it." Alex sat back in the sofa and called to her, "Beth, show Joan how we greet people. Be extra polite about it."

Beth instantly rose to her feet and approached John, stopping at the tips of John's strappy shoes.

John shifted.

This would be about the time she could have used handy directions decided upon in something resembling a pre-undercover briefing. Instead of some form of orders, all she had was staring up at the meek, young girl while her mouth fell open and her eyes bugged out of their perfectly decorated sockets. The bewildered stares were slowly returning.

Beth was no help with her head forever tilted downward.

Sherlock was just as silent.

Get it together, Watson.

Alex threw her a bone. "Joan, give her permission."

John tried to hide her sigh of relief, cleared her throat, and shot Beth an apologetic smile. "I give you permission."

Beth's crystal clear blue eyes fluttered up and she leaned forward. Keeping her hands clasped behind her back, she pecked John on either cheek and slowly dipped towards her mouth, leaving one lingering kiss before darting back up and returning to Alex's feet.

John's heart hammered. She lifted her fingertips to her tingling mouth. That took her back to uni days -drunk kisses and giggly dares. When she caught Alex's proud smile, she swallowed a gulp of her burning drink and tried to return it without looking too horrified.

Sex club was definitely being added to the list of places that were out of her depth. That, Currys on Black Friday, and any cafe that offered more than two coffee options: hot or tea.

"She's good, isn't she?" Alex brushed her fingertips over Beth's shoulder and Beth visually shuddered.

"Very," John said agreeably, her gaze darting down to Sherlock, wondering how much longer they would need to make polite conversation, for fear of it becoming extra polite again. The chubby man was still at the bar, losing his attempts at flirting based on the way the girl kept recoiling. If John knew what info they were after she could be helping Sherlock instead of awkwardly catching some guy fingering his mate's arse in her peripheral.

Martin probably would not mind the chaste kisses -especially since Beth was decidedly female- but John had a feeling she was going to leave it out anyway, along with the blow jobs and gay fingering. There was no need to invite comments.

"Do you have yours well trained then?" Alex asked.

John shook her thoughts away and turned back to Alex. The girl looked pleasant enough, not at all put off by John staring at the others in the room. She supposed she looked like anyone else at the club to Alex. Sherlock did say to fit in.

"She's…" John trailed off, her hand instinctively reaching out towards Sherlock's shoulder. It felt a bit odd, speaking for Sherlock. Sherlock had no problem opening her mouth and saying whatever was on her mind at any given time. Sherlock without a voice felt wrong. "She's..." Then, unbidden, John remembered the rotting toes currently left out on the kitchen counter and the mouse hearts floating in ice water in the fridge -even though John had asked for basic sanitation at least one hundred and sixty two times. "In training," she ended, loving the way Sherlock shifted in agitation at being referred to like some common house dog. John pat the top of her head for good measure. "She's new to being told what to do."

Alex nodded in understanding. "She's a switch."

John's mouth fell open and she tried to cover her silence with a drink and a nod, not understanding what was happening in the least. Sherlock subtly elbowed her in the leg but John ignored it. How was she supposed to know what to say? A switch turned lights on and off. What the hell did it have to do with anything? If Sherlock wanted to throw her into these situations without warning, she would lay in the bed she made and like it.

"Do you normally Dom?" Alex asked innocently, as if they were sipping tea over breakfast and not ignoring the moans coming from the couch next over.

Apparently that man was really good at fingering his mate.

John wanted to burst into laughter but managed to restrain herself. "No."

"Ah, I thought so," Alex said and rushed to say, "No offense. You just look a bit lost is all."

"You could say that," John let herself giggle.

"You want me to show you some things?" Alex asked, gesturing behind her.

John looked to see a wall of various… things, indeed, that she had not noticed before. There was a paddle and a whip of some sort, and something that looked ominously sharp-

Sherlock elbowed her again, less subtly this time and John not-so-accidentally kicked her back, smiling at Alex. "I would love that."

"Great," Alex beamed. "Do you want me to use Sherly?"

John grinned down at Sherlock's head in contemplation for far longer than suited Sherlock, if her wiggles were anything to go by, but as much as she would love to see retribution be had, they had a job to do.

"I'm not sure I feel comfortable sharing, just yet." John threw her hand on Sherlock's shoulder for good measure, squeezing gently. Sherlock pretended to fold into the touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. John wanted to laugh at the noise but smiled instead, downing more of her drink.

"That's fine by me," Alex said jovially and snapped her fingers.

Beth was up in a second, spinning towards the center of the alcove floor and plopping back onto her heels, eyes never leaving her feet. Alex stood up and set her drink down next to John as she contemplated the wall.

"Are there any you fancy?" she asked John politely.

"Um," John's eyes roamed the selection, the gleam on the shining wood of the paddle catching her eyes.

Alex noticed and hummed, picking it up. "Alright, love."

John flushed again and her eyes darted to Sherlock. She was still immobile but her fingers were twitching. Already bored with observation it seemed.

Alex's clipped voice called to Beth. "Dress. Off."

Beth clamored to oblige, practically ripping the zipper at her back in order to free herself of the thing, tossing it away from her and repositioning herself on her knees. Her bralette was a delicate shade of lacey pink, not quite matching her sparkling purple pants, but the true distraction were her silver heels, barely clinging onto her feet.

Alex pulled silk from her pocket and dangled the red fabric in front of Beth's face, her wide eyes flashing up before returning to the ground, her shoulders twitching in excitement. Alex immediately grabbed her by the jaw and forced her gaze upward. Beth's eyes were dark and open, never leaving her mistress' face.

"Two for flinching," Alex ground out, flipping the paddle in her other hand. "Five for any noises."

Beth tried to nod and was promptly let go, her head falling to her chest, her cheeks painted freshly pink with red fingerprints and a light flush. John shifted to the edge of the couch, dress be damned. She could stand to show a little leg if the girl in the center of the floor was willing to be stripped to almost nothing for a bit of spanking.

That's all it was, a bit of spanking. Nothing to get so nervous about.

Alex smirked at John and turned back to Beth, running her fingers along the marks dotting her glowing jaw. Beth tried very hard not to move but it was impossible for her fingers not to curl across her thighs. Alex whispered something in her ear and it made Beth's legs fall apart, her breath catching audibly.

Alex whirled back towards John and said, "Be assertive, but not cruel. Good behavior is rewarded. Bad behavior-" She looked at Beth and smirked, then sank to her knees behind her partner. She flipped the silk fabric over Beth's eyes and pulled Beth's head back, whispering into her ear. "-is to be punished."

John nodded, not sure how far this lesson was going to go. They could call schoolgirl and her leash holder over to take notes.

Beth's toes curled in her wobbling heels to the point of pain. One fell abruptly to the floor with a clatter. Alex's palm slapped against the paddle, causing both Beth and John to jump.

Alex slowly pulled the fallen shoe from the ground and slid it up Beth's flesh, digging in the heel well enough to scratch, but not enough to bleed. One long line of raised skin blossomed over every curve of muscle. Beth's mouth fell open, the fabric across her eyes moving as her brow furrowed.

"That's four for flinching, pet."

John closed her mouth and licked her lips, daring to look down at Sherlock, who was just as immobile as before. She wondered if this was what she was supposed to do, if she was feigning enough interest or if the grip on her half empty glass revealed she wanted more alcohol before watching this.

Alex quickly grabbed her attention by slapping the paddle again and commanding Beth to get on her hands and knees. The girl looked completely debauched already in the dim golden glow of the lights above. Sweat collected at her shoulders, her hair a mess in front of her face, her entire body shaking, her last shoe barely clinging on.

Nothing's happened yet, John thought. Is she really that turned on already?

A puff of air pushed Beth's blonde locks away from her face as Alex's nail traced up her spine, up her neck, until she had her hair in a fist. She jerked Beth's face up and her body arched with the contact, a moan escaping her lips.

"That's four for flinching, five for the noise. Why don't we round it up to an even ten? What do you say, pet?"

Beth's lips moved without sound at first. It took Alex's hand pulling at her hair again before she said, "Yes, ma'am, please."

Alex smiled and soothed her hand through the platinum locks, draping them gently across her neck. "Keep your hair out of your face. We want to show our guests how pretty you blush when you act like a slut."

Beth's face did blush, the red travelling all the way up from her chest and into her ears. She shimmied her arse in the air, practically begging for Alex to continue.

Alex chuckled and stood, facing John. "I love showing off my pretty slut, don't I, pet?"

Beth gasped at the lude term, nodding without letting her head or hair fall. "Yes, ma'am."

John slipped further up the couch, tried to take another sip of her drink, but found it hard to hold onto. Her blood pulsed and her thighs twitched -an echo of the arousal swimming through the air, pushing itself upon anyone occupying the building.

"She loves it when I call her that." Alex smirked, proud. "The only sound I want to hear is your counting. Or we double your punishment. Alright, pet?"

Beth nodded mutely.

The lesson seemed to end there. At least, Alex stopped looking towards John and only paid attention to Beth.

The paddle suddenly whooshed through the air and clapped against Beth's arse, echoing in their small corner. John tried to breathe her beating heart back under control, shifted her legs around, and ignored the way the dress was making her sweat.

Beth called out a muted, "One," and was rewarded with Alex's hand slipping over her purple pants, pinching her thigh and murmuring praise. Then the pants were pulled down, exposing two pink and white cheeks to the air, only a hint of dark curls hiding between her visible legs.

John wondered if Sherlock would be impressed in any way that she deduced Beth was a bottle blonde.

The next few hits were in quick succession, barely giving Beth time to call out the numbers.

John pushed at her bangs, stubbornly sticking to her face, and pulled at the edge of her dress, wondering if she could send Sherlock for another drink, or if leaving her side would break some unspoken rule.

Beth's arms were trembling, but it only made Alex smile harder.

"On your face, pet," Alex said. "So we can still see you."

Arms contorted in ways arms normally do not bend so Beth could push her cheek against the dirty ground and present her pink arse to her Dom. Alex pet her back and circled around her, slapping the paddle a few times to make them all jump in anticipation.

The final four hits were done randomly, slowly. Beth almost gasped aloud at every one, only barely containing herself before she rumbled a low, "Ten."

Alex dropped the paddle to the ground and slipped her hands up and down Beth's legs, kissing her on each arse cheek before pulling her back up to a seated position. Beth seemed beaten and lose, hardly able to keep herself upright, a blissful smile on her face. Alex rubbed her arms and smoothed away her hair as she undid the tie, constantly telling her she did a good job.

John pushed herself back onto her seat and fell a bit to the side, her calf sticking against Sherlock's bare shoulder for a brief moment. She took a second to dizzily wonder how much rum had been in her drink as Alex pulled Beth to the couch and demanded she climb into her lap.

The small group of people that had gathered to watch dissipated for more interesting endeavors.

John had not even noticed them.

It was a bit of a stumble but Beth pulled herself up and slumped with her face in the crook of Alex's neck, nippling lazily at the skin there. John licked her lips and looked at Sherlock, wondering if they should take their leave before things became even more inappropriate, but Alex spoke before she could.

"She is my good girl," she cooed, cuddling Beth tight. "There is no other like her."

"I'll bet," John said, clearing her throat and biting her lip.

John looked at her empty glass and uncrossed her legs, pulling at where the dress stuck to her thighs, wanting to fan away the stickiness of the sweat and the butterflies in her tipsy stomach.

Sherlock perked up the moment John's heels shifted and said, "Mistress?"

John's brain stumbled a moment, her eyes blinking heavily before she realized Sherlock was addressing her. She supposed it was better than ma'am. "Yes?"

"May I use the lav, please?"

"You don't-" John was going to finish that with 'need to ask me' but caught herself in time. "Ah- Yes. Excuse us, ladies."

"Maybe we'll see you again some time," Alex smiled and rubbed her hands over Beth's back, dipping her fingers under her bralette and down her stomach. "We've been here a while and I think I need to take this one home."

John smiled politely, waved, and led the way to the toilets.

The minute they entered, Sherlock tugged John by the arm into the handicap. Then she contorted her arms and started pulling at the ties behind her back.

"You are full of surprises, John Watson." Sherlock tugged fruitlessly at the sole metal clip holding the top in place and turned her back to John, motioning for her to unclasp it for her. "With you being Captain and Mark being so much of-"

"Martin," John muttered automatically, undoing the clasp.

"-a pushover, I always assumed it was you." Sherlock shimmied out of the rest of her dress, shaking her head and undoing her necklace. "But now I see."

John spun around before catching any sight of naked Sherlock but the stall door let off a shiny metallic reflection so she turned to the brown tiled wall instead. She felt like a drunk chicken with its head cut off. Maybe toast for dinner really was a horrid idea.

"See what?" John asked, thinking she must be especially slow.

Sherlock tapped John's shoulder and gracefully bent over in her form fitting, matching, violet lace panties and bra to detach shoe from fabric. Seriously, did all of Sherlock's underthings match? John had trouble finding a matching pair of socks half the time with the way her laundry disappeared.

Sherlock handed her dress and necklace over. "Put them on."

John slowly took them, "Why-"

"We're switching." Sherlock pushed John around again and undid the zip on her dress, sliding it over her head, not caring about unleashing John's bare breasts to the world or John's jump at Sherlock's fingers accidentally grazing side boob. "I'm the Dom, you're the sub."

John shook her head and nearly tripped trying to step into the floral dress in her strappy heels while covering her tits. "Bored of me telling you what to do already?"

"You barely told me to do a thing," Sherlock said, tossing the tight pleather dress on like it were an old t-shirt -not caring that it rode so high, arse cheeks were about to poke out. "You are rubbish at it. I don't know why I didn't see it before."

"See what?" John asked again dumbly, pulling Sherlock's floral dress over her breasts and adjusting as she went. At least she could breathe in this one. The shoes were all wrong but there was no helping the fact that they had severely different feet.

The halter top meant her scar would be on full view but she was long past the days of ever trying to hide it. It was well earned after all and she learned to brush off questions she did not feel like answering. Clothing for women always tended to cut in a way that exposed at least part of it.

"You are going to do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you." Sherlock spun John around and grabbed the necklace, clasping it into place in a matter of seconds.

"Like normal?" John asked wryly, a bit dizzy.

"Only this time, I won't be asking."

John chuckled. "You ask normally?"

"You could always refuse," Sherlock said simply, as if it would actually be that easy. "But not tonight. Tonight, you do what I say. Call me either miss or mistress."

"Um-" John nodded dumbly. "Okay."

"Do you want a name? You responded when that woman called hers a pretty slut."

John nearly tripped in her heels, again, falling into the stall door to check through the crack to see if anyone were out there listening. "What?" she hissed.

Sherlock gave her the stare that meant she was deducing at lightning speed -eyes snapping left and right and up and down, cracking down every barrier- and smiled slowly. "Interesting. Humiliation. I see."

"Humiliation?"

"It turns you on. Keep up, John."

"I am not turned on by humil-"

"How about I call you my beautiful bitch? Tasty tart. Exquisite exploit. Gorgeous golden girl." She frowned. "No alliteration. Ravishing, sexy, foxy, oh!" she stepped into John's space and pushed her against the door with one perfectly manicured nail, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, "You are my lovely little whore, aren't you, John Watson?"

John's eyes widened and she gulped, her mouth snapping shut. Clearly this night was getting away from her. She fixed her sticking bangs again and cleared her throat.

"Just get me a drink, Sherlock," she said and pushed her way out of the stall.

Sherlock grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back sharply, catching her before she could trip in her damn heels again. "Rules reversed, John," she muttered directly into her ear. "I lead, you follow."

John bowed mockingly and growled, "After you, miss."

Sherlock looked at her as if she were calculating the number of ways she could tear apart John's favorite jumper, thread by thread, when she suddenly hooked a finger under John's choker and tugged.

Air was easy to obtain but the lace cut into John's neck. Sherlock was close enough to make her vision blur, staring down at her with an edge to her small smile.

"Be good for me, John." She crooked her finger tighter, nearly colliding their noses. "Good girls get rewarded. Bad girls get punished."

Sherlock let go and John was left to stare, wide eyed, at the empty space, thinking of nothing but the sound of a wooden paddle smacking a nearly bare arse. Surely, she wouldn't be thinking about making John do any of that.

"I'm not wearing a bra," John needlessly remarked, but Sherlock was already gone.

AN: I had not realized I named John's SO Martin until three months after I wrote this. It was too late, you guys. I'm so sorry hahahaha