Lena: I'm sorry... I know I should be continuing with other fics but my addiction to Johnlock has brought on a new idea. I have to pen this! Idea inspired by various songs, and my filthy mind... Anyway...

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine... Characters and the original plot belong to the producers and authors... (Lucky Sods!)

Content Warning: Passion... Heat, and Sherlock being horny... M/M (slash) and other inappropriate content. Language... Well, yeah, there'll be swears. Don't like? Don't read!

Saffi: This story is rated M just to be safe. No descriptive oral, anal or anything creative... *grins at the word* Although such acts will be mentioned... Descriptive kissing and wanking? You betcha!

Lena: Saf, no spoilers! Anyway, enjoy!

'I see you lying next to me, with words I'd never speak...' Famous Last Words, MCR

It was different. Unnatural. Sherlock felt hot. And frustrated. He took a sip of his coffee, although the taste didn't satisfy him like it should do. John was writing his blog- Sherlock could hear the tapping of keys next door. He put down a newspaper; there was no point pretending to focus on this week's trivial stories. 'Mum In A Million; You told me I could never have kids!' He looked down at the heading, and sighed. How... Dull.

With a hand, he put down the steaming cup of coffee John had made for him. It wasn't helping the warmth he felt. At all. It was early- 11am on a Sunday, and without a case or an idea of what to do, Holmes was beginning to understand what it was like to be human. Boring. Pointless. Meaningless...

And this unexplained heat would not go away... Sherlock's frustration only grew, and it seemed with the frustration, the heat grew too. His brain felt funny, hazy almost. Sherlock checked his coffee. Had John drugged him? He took another sip, swirling his tongue around the liquid, searching... however nothing was found, other than the distinctive taste of Nescafe Gold Blend instant coffee and semi-skimmed milk. Sherlock had come to the conclusion that he trusted John more than the idea that his flatmate had drugged him.

He swallowed his coffee and yet again, it did not provide any sustenance for him, nor the overwhelming heat. He put the mug down and rested his hands in his lap, excruciatingly bored, frustrated and hot. It wasn't fair to bother John, even though annoying him was occasionally enjoyable for Sherlock. He smiled and relaxed, leaning back, replaying John's pissed-off reactions through his head. For him, boredom could be conquered easily... If you knew what to do. The detective leant back further closing his eyes and attempting to clear his mind...

But his mind wouldn't clear. Sherlock scowled. It wasn't often he could be peaceful, and it wasn't often he wanted to either. All he could think about was this heat... Realizing he was still wearing a layer that didn't need to be worn, he removed the black jacket, hoping it would take the heat away. But no. The heat clung to him like a sweaty shirt.

Sherlock dismissed the idea of trying to clear his head and tried to deduce what the cause of this heat was. It was unlikely that it could be a drug, as Sherlock had never heard of one that could cause this sensation, and he hadn't ate or drank anything that could have this effect. It wasn't caused by temperature, as the morning was a chilly January one, and temperature couldn't effect ones head, unless in extreme cases. Illness? Sherlock was debating that. Natural causes? It couldn't be... could it?

Arousal. The word flashed through his mind, and he shivered at the thought. Sherlock had never been a sexual person, and would rather focus on solving any kind of problem than focusing on a relationship. However, once or twice, he has felt and gave in to the need for a wank. But that was back in his teenage years, and as pleasuring as it was, Sherlock felt he got higher from a chase with some notorious criminal. Now, his hand felt so very... Inviting, sat there in his lap.

It all fits into place. Sherlock was hot... horny... And what better day to feel like that than today? The only thing he began to consider is why? Why was he spontaneously aroused? His hands began to feel a presence underneath them and he pushed down in his lap, looking for something there. A quiet moan escaped his lips. Sherlock had a hard-on.

Fuck it, he though, undoing the button on his trousers. If this is what I want, no, need, then I shall... enjoy myself. He tossed the discarded layer to one arm of the couch, keeping his pants around his lower thighs. He clutched a hand around his length, stroking it. His back arched, and he felt himself become painfully hard. Sherlock uttered a moan, and bit his tongue, hoping he'd keep quiet enough to stop John from noticing him pleasuring himself. Fuck, why hadn't I done this before?

He quickened his pace, heat clouding his mind and his whole body. A few more seconds and his hand tightened its grip. Sherlock wanted to come so badly, come so hard his body shook, come so hard that his vision went white. He could feel his orgasm building up, and it was a struggle to keep quiet. He would be over in the next 30 seconds. Sherlock couldn't believe how fucking good it felt... A few more strokes and he was finished. He released a final moan of pleasure, spilling his load all over his white shirt. His pants came out in heavy breaths.

Wow, fuck... Sherlock's mind spun, and he was surprised John couldn't have heard him. He spent a while clearing his mind again, before removing his soiled shirt and pulling his pants back on. However something wasn't right...

The frustration had gone, but the heat was still there.

Sherlock stood, in only his red silk briefs. Wow. It has been a while since he'd done that. He turned for the sink, however he stopped in his tracks. Fuck. Standing in the doorway, was John, a smirk on his face.

'Tell me I'm a bad, bad man, kick me like a stray...' House Of Wolves, MCR

"Enjoying yourself, Sherlock?" He spoke. Sherlock... Had never been more embarrassed in his life. He stared at John, wondering how long he'd been there for. Sherlock may be embarrassed, but if John hadn't seen the whole thing then he needn't know about what he was doing.

"Wandering around in my underwear? Yeah, who wouldn't... You're probably enjoying seeing me like this..."

"Sherlock, save it. I know what you've been doing. I heard you start and..." He looked away, seemingly blushing. "I never thought... You were ever like that..." Sherlock thought for a second before looking back at his friend, who was leaning on the doorframe.

"I'm not, John... But there's this thing and I feel it. It's hot. Like... It's so hard to explain!" Sherlock walked towards John, and gripped his arms with desperation. "I feel so desperate... So-"

"-Hungry?" John looked up into Sherlock's eyes. They'd said the word at exactly the same time. John smiled and chuckled at Sherlock's current state.

"John, I'm serious!" Sherlock frowned at him, pretty pissed off that his flat-mate had laughed at his current confusion. The Doctor just laughed more and began a speech laced with sarcasm.

"The great detective, Sherlock Holmes, defeated by a single human emotion- lust!" John laughed.

"So it's all... Natural to feel hot and... Aroused?" John nodded, trying not to look anywhere but Sherlock's face. However lustful the detective was, he could still notice John in difficulty. John's eyes tried to keep on Sherlock's face, however, they travelled lower. Maybe they liked his wiry, pale, however lightly muscled body? Or maybe they liked to watch the lower, more private sections of his body inside those silk briefs? Maybe John was wishing he had the power to undress others with his eyes?

Fuck.

Sherlock mentally scolded himself. It was this damn lust. Anyway, John had countess girls on the waiting list. He was... straight. No doubt about it. Sherlock was... Actually, Sherlock didn't know what he was. Looks weren't something he considered, and he'd not really fancied anyone before. So he could be... But what if John were? What if they could both do 'that' until the sun set and morning broke again? What if they could-

"Sher-Sherlock..." John stammered quietly, his cheeks acquiring a strange red tint. "Could you... move now?" His filthy thoughts were interrupted. Sherlock let go of John's arms, however, instead of letting him walk away to do the washing up, the detective pulled John to him, in an embrace. "Sh-Sherlock!" He muttered his name in shock but didn't struggle.

"You seem to be fine with walking in on me, and watching, which a regular best friend wouldn't be, and you're pulse is racing. You blush, and stammer, but the best thing is..." Sherlock paused for more effect "You're eyes can't stop looking where they shouldn't and..." Sherlock didn't even need to observe the hard bulge that pressed up against his thigh, but he looked down with a sly smirk for effect.

"W-What do you think you're doing?! I understand you're horny and... Want some girls to fuck bu-" John stifled a moan. Sherlock ground his thigh into the bulge.

"You think I've ever paid anything to girls? You tell me right now you're not incredibly turned on by me and I'll act like nothing ever happened!" John looked at the detective. He always knew that Sherlock had been sexually inexperienced and slightly deprived, but now this? Well, Sherlock sexuality had always been questionable. And John... John was incredibly turned on.

"Sherlock, do what you must. I really don't care..." John's breath hitched in his throat, as Sherlock's lips trailed earlobe.

"Fuck, it's this heat, John!" He half-whispered, half-hissed into his ear. "Help me get rid of it!"

John stepped back from him, aroused and about as horny as the brunette. "Fuck, Sherlock..." He breathed. "No strings, and what happens now stays here, agreed?"

"I've never felt like this before... Yes, and just a one-off," Sherlock moved closer, reaching around John's waist. "Whatever feels comfortable, agreed?"

"Agreed," The smaller of the two tilted his head back to see Sherlock's face, his features drowned with lust, looming over him. Sherlock pressed his lips to John's.

It was never going to be a chaste kiss- John and Sherlock both knew, however John did not expect the detective's lips to be so firm, so... experienced... Sherlock already began growing another hard-on, and the kiss deepened. It began slow, but the peace didn't last long. Their mouths battled, tongue upon tongue and teeth biting and nibbling at lips. Sherlock moaned- the whole act seemed to sustain the heat inside him. Once John had broken away, and they were both left gasping for air, Sherlock pulled on his arm.

"Bed," He panted. And soon enough, they were both on Sherlock's double bed, ripping at and fabrics that prevented skin-to-skin touch. And soon the Doctor and the Detective were driven into a world of pleasure, such pleasure that Sherlock had not encountered before...

'My hands float up above me, and you whisper you love me...' All Around Me, Flyleaf

Sherlock awoke one morning... Naked. Wait, it was morning? He sure had lost a load of time... He sat up and scanned around. Johns sweater and blue jeans? Ripped. Lying at the foot of the bed. They couldn't possibly have done that...? Yes.

Why? Sherlock tried to think. He remembered the day before, at around half eleven. He remembers drinking coffee, pretending to read a newspaper and feeling hot... Then he remembers how his hand felt around his dick, around Johns. Fuck... What had he done?

Sherlock got out of bed and looked at himself in the mirror. OK, so last night had been the hottest and craziest night he'd had. In ages. Sherlock slung on a dressing gown from the wardrobe, realizing that John's was gone... He must've had the same idea... The detective did up the belt, and walked into the sitting room. John sat down, a coffee in his hands, in that dark blue dressing gown.

"John... We need to talk," Sherlock muttered, basically collapsing onto a couch, the same one as yesterday. He could still feel the sensations of his hand on his cock, easing him over the edge. John put down his coffee on the table.

"Sherlock... What happened, shouldn't have happened. You need to get out more, to stop you lust overloading. Be a bit more human."

"You really think it shouldn't have been? It was-"

"Sherlock, I know it was amazing. But I'm not gay..."

"So even though you were not under the influence of lust you went along with it, and you claim you are not gay? So even though you are not gay, you're pulse raised, you blushed and you got an erection at the close proximity between us while I was topless? Interesting..."

"Holmes... Just because you're a genius doesn't mean you have to be a massive prick."

"Massive prick? You seem to like that..." John ground his teeth in frustration.

John felt frustrated and hot. "What was it like...?"

Sherlock smirked. "Well, you of all people should know. Being sucked off? It's am-"

"Not that!" John blushed, feeling the detective's hungry eyes on him. "The heat... What's it like?"

"Well, you feel pissed off... Frustrated like something is under your grill. And you cannot clear your head, like something is worming itself into your mind. And the heat... You feel like you could walk around naked in the polar regions and not get goose-bumps..."

"A bit extreme... Sherlock, did you feel like you could... like you wanted to do... acts to certain things and people?"

"Well, I certainly wanted to screw you... and myself in the process." He huffed, frowning at John. Why was his colleague so interested? "Why do you want to know?"

"Because... I want to-" Sherlock took him by surprise, straddling John and attacking his mouth hungrily. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth, kissing back with the same strength and passion.

"I know..." He said against his lips, nibbling at his throat.

'We get these pill's to swallow. How they stick, in your throat. Tastes like gold...' No-One Knows, Queens Of The Stone Age

Somewhere in a warehouse, James Moriarty smiled. The camera's had been a big hit. Several screens showed John and the detective making love on the couch. Several show the dishevelled bedroom, while another showed the bathroom. It was like free, live porn. Moriarty grinned and watched, thinking about what to do next, with the duo... distracted. And it was all because of some damn good coffee...

True, finding something that would make Sherlock admit his feelings for his colleague was difficult. However, James had come across a rather rare 'heat' potion a while ago. He couldn't exactly remember where he'd come across it, as his only memories of that day were quite graphic. A drunken bet, and suddenly the substance was in Sherlock Holmes' coffee. Mycroft and James began monitoring his behaviours yesterday with cameras.

Mycroft bet Sherlock was straight and would go after the old lady, Mrs Hudson. Maybe he'd bet that just to make James cringe at the thought. James had bet that Sherlock would go for his flat-mate. Mycroft knew he was going to lose the £50 as soon as the bet was placed.

"Enjoying yourself, Jim?" Mycroft appeared, coming to look at the screens. He shivered, almost in disgust. "I had no idea my brother could be so... creative..."

"Scarred for life?" James grinned at the older brother looming over him.

"Not..." Mycroft spun the office chair around, so that James was facing him. "A..." James' trousers were unzipped and ripped down harshly, and Mycroft knelt before him "Chance..."

James leant back in his chair, and the thought that ran though his mind was one of a perfectly normal human being;

This is the life...

Lena: Umm... Yeah, I thought I'd add in the twist. Some Johnlock, drugged coffee, and... Jamecroft. No, Myriarty? Need to make a fan-base for that one! It's hard to understand... Anyway, I hope you enjoyed. Review or PM for a sequel or a new chapter. This was a random idea I made up as I went along...

Dalena Marshall xxx