Title: Revenge
Rating: 18 - Slash, graphic sex, language
Series: 2009 Holmes Movie
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, 5 London policemen
Summary: Here's the prompt - - - Watson gets pissed off at Holmes while they're checking out a crime scene. To teach Holmes a lesson, Watson shoves him up against a wall/bends him over something and just fingers the living hell out of him. The Yarders are RIGHT. THERE., totally watching and getting off on it. Watson tells them to join in.
Holmes is completely humiliated. '09 movieverse preferred.

Things were really getting too much.
Watson stood in the light drizzle, the rain collecting and dripping off the brim of his bowler hat, his cane tapping impatiently against his foot in a steady irritated rhythm as he watched Holmes stalk about the crimescene, inspecting every little iota of the environment. Sherlock's movements were quick and sharp, and he would occasionally straighten up and smirk, spouting off some haughty deduction or other that Watson was only half listening to, before returning to work.
He's showing off..
Watson thought. While the detective was usually arrogant, even when he was in a mess - as was often the case - he was now even harder to manage than usual. The last few weeks had consisted of Sherlock behaving, frankly, like a spoilt child in light of the news of Watson's wedding drawing near. Sherlock demanded attention every minute of the day, arguing with Watson and attempting to trick him into staying, or fanning his own ego in an attempt to show Watson what he would soon be missing.
It was really beginning to get his goat.

"As you see, gentlemen, the cause of death was a complete mistake. It is so often the case that doctors do not open tehri eyes to the full facts - they concern themselves with saving lives, or in identifying the obvious. After all they simply want to shut up prying families if the death is suspicious, or mask tehri own ignorance when the cause of death is not at once obvious. They're proud and, at times, lazy. So long as there is a payslip with their name upon it at the end of the enquiry."
he cast a smug look at Watson. Apparently, with his clingy attempts to get Watson to stay having failed, he was switched to underhanded - or even blatant- insults to get his attention.
Watson visibly bristled and narrowed his eyes at him.
"Doctor!" Sherlock chirped, walking upto Watson and tilting his head up slightly at him, a little smirk in the corner of his lips.
"What do you define as the cause of death?"

"The report has already been filled, Holmes." Watson said stiffly, attempting not to rise to the bait.

"but your opinion?" Sherlock pressed, raising an eyebrow.

Watson sighed dramatically. "Stomach failure due to a ruptured ulcer, perhaps. This is hardly worthy of being called a crime-scene, despite you insistence upon it."

"once again, as ever, you are wrong." Sherlock said, looking triumphant. he walked a little circle aroudn Watson. "you're looking for the easy answer: lazy,lazy,lazy!"
he grinned and gave the body a prod with his foot.
"the true answer is that he was poisoned - but not with any chemical, oh no. in fact the man was fed powdered glass over a series of many weeks. it wore away at his stomach until it ruptured and caused internal haemorrhaging, thus causing his death. really, Watson, it's quite elementary, even a child could come up with such a way to kill a man." he snorted.

Watson's grip tightened on his cane.

"the person you are looking for, officers, is one close to him who prepared food. A wife, servant or butler." Sherlock announced.

The officers looked impressed.

"Stomach ulcer...heh. that really is quite adorable." Sherlock sneered, looking sideways at Watson. "Are you going to raise a family on credentials like that? it's a wonder you have any business at all." he added rather cruelly.

That was it.
In one sudden movement, Watson's hand darted out and grabbed onto Sherlock's throat, and he forced his weight agaisnt him, marching the shocked detective back until he thumped hard against a wall.

Sherlock gave a gagging little gasp, wincing as the back of his head connected with the wall in a thump. Watson was soon less than an inch away, his breath quick an hot in anger. Sherlock stared at him.
"Wh-what are you-?"
he stammered, sensing something a little different. Normally Watson's responses were sarcastic jibes or even slaps to the face, but they were usually over as soon as they happened. But now he looked genuinely furious. Maybe his attempt to get him angry had gone too far. After all, Sherlock thought, he was a genius, but he had never been of the best emotional judgement to say the least. He swallowed, his large dark eyes meeting Watson's.
"Shut up."
Watson snapped, glaring at him.
"Just...just shut up. I've had enough of you, 'sir'."
he said, his voice soon hard and clipped, a hint of the military creeping back into it to mix with the angry venom.
Sherlock struggled a little, his mind automatically jumping to action, picking out Watson's weaknesses almost unconsciously. But he was his friend, he couldn't..
"Watson, you're being ridiculous."
he said firmly, acting more like an impatient parent than a man who was currently pinned by his neck against a brick wall.
"Kindly stop making a scene before you embarrass yourself."

Watson's jaw tightened, as did his grip, making Sherlock gasp for air again.
"You're so damn condescending, aren't you?" he growled, stepping closer so that his foot rested between Sherlock's legs, forcing his thigh up into his groin. The detective straightened up, arching back a little at the uncomfortable pressure, giving a light hiss.
The policemen watching were suddenly very interested, and glanced at one another warily, as if unsure of what to do.
"The whole world revolves around the great Sherlock Holmes, doesn't it? And damned with all the rest of us!" Watson said, his voice tight and as hard as granite. "Your ego is outstanding, Holmes, it truly is."

Sherlock opened his mouth wordlessly to protest, but before he could find even one syllable Watson had dragged him forwards and wrenched him around before forcing him back, thumping him against the wall again so that his cheek grazed the brick. Sherlock grunted and squirmed, but soon he felt a blistering line of pain across his backside as Watson gave him a whip with his cane.
"A-AGH!" Sherlock yelped, his eyes widening in shock and pain. Watson tossed the case aside, one hand at the scruff of his neck to hold him agaisnt the wall. Sherlock's heart was thudding hard against his chest.
"W-watson..." he gasped, his voice tremoring slightly, the confidence all gone in one instant to be replaced by apprehension.

"I'm going to give you a lesson in humility, Holmes. Spare the rod and spoil the child, as they say."
Watson said, leaning over his shoulder to speak into his ear again. Something in Sherlock stirred at his hot breath curling over his neck, and how his chest pressed into his back mixed with the bruising grip of his usually dexterous fingers. Sherlock swallowed, a tongue flicking over his lips nervously.
"This, I believe, can be regarded as a judicial punishment. I'm sure the officers present won't disagree that it's forthcoming. In fact, I do believe that I want them present, as witnesses." Watson growled, his level mixing with his anger. Sherlock shifted again and Watson's grip tightened and his thigh pressed up hard enough to make Sherlock flinch.
"I've been lenient so far. A lesson in humility is definitely in order."
Sherlock blinked and craned to look at the policemen, who had collected into a little group nearby, looking expectant. He frowned, gritting his teeth in embarrassment at that.
"Watson, this is positively barbaric, grow up and let me go." Sherlock snapped.
"I said shut up!" Watson retorted. he then reached out, tugging Sherlock's cravat off his neck before looping around his mouth to fashion a gag, tying it tight behind his head. Sherlock made a muffled exclamation of protest.
As soon as Sherlock was suitably gagged, Watson's free hand went down to the detective's trousers, unclipping his braces. Sherlock made to struggle again with a muffled noise of increasingly panicked question, but Watson had him pinned and fought back against the wriggling.
Watson's hands had reached around to unbutton his trousers before Watson relented and looked over his shoulder to the inquisitive officers, setting on one in particular.
"Officers, if two of you could come here and restrain , if you please." he said, the anger relaxing out of his voice instead to a cool hard authority.
The group exchanged glances before two volunteers stepped forwards, on on each side of Sherlock. They each took a strong hold of his arms and shoulders to hold him firm.
"Bloody 'ell, Lestrade should be here to see this."
One of them muttered, shifting to keep Sherlock still as he struggled again with an inarticulate noise of protest. Sherlock's face was soon flushing in chagrin at being used like this in front of the officers, much less by Watson of all people.
"I've wanted something like this to happen for a long time." the other admitted, giving Watson an approving smirk. Watson ignored him and yanked Sherlock's trousers down to his ankles, baring him for all to see. Instinctually Sherlock pushed his front against the wall to try and shield it, his blush deepening.
"Mmfh!" he made another outraged and panicky noise. Watson snorted and tugged his gag down.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" he asked smoothly.
"Dear God Watson what are you playing at?"Sherlock demanded, his voice slightly higher in desperation.
"You would do well to do exactly as I say." Watson replied. "or I gag you again. Do we understand one another?"
Sherlock stared at him for a long time before giving a quick brief nod.
"You bloody well deserve this, you cocky bastard." Watson growled, the anger making a fast return. His fingers gripped tight around Sherlock's hips, yanking him backwards a little, forcing him to bend over slightly and abandon his cover from the wall.
The detective dipped his head, looking down at his feet, his breath soon quick and shallow in frightened anticipation. He was exposed and bent over like a rentboy to 5 Scotland Yard policeman, and his flatmate. The great Sherlock Holmes. Him. He was still in shock. He felt Watson's hand briefly run over the curve of his backside and he shivered, that tingle of -to his surprise- not unpleasant anticipation returning, feeling like it ran down his spine to even the tip of his member. Greeted only with the sight of his and Watson's shoes, and the shifting shadows of the policemen who held him in a tight grip, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Suddenly, Watson started and Sherlock gave a strained gasp of shock as Watson thrust his finger down to the knuckle in his entrance. His fingers scrunched up but his arms were held tight by the policemen, who watched with at first appalled fascination.
"Ngh! A-ah!"
Sherlock yelped, his eyes wide in horror at what Watson was actually doing. The doctor's face was hard and stubbornly neutral as he pressed a hand into the small of Sherlock's back to keep him still, his other finger working mercilessly, thrusting in and out of him. Sherlock squirmed and struggled, pushing his hips to the wall to get away, his face red and hot in humiliation.
"G-god! Watson!" he gasped, attempting to make a break to get away again, but held fast.
"You stop moving and you take it, Holmes." Watson snapped, pumping with more vigour, curling his finger slightly with each one. Sherlock made a strangled noise at that, Watson's finger hitting something he couldn't name nor recognise, but which gave an intense burst of feeling that was enough to make his legs almost buckle from under him.
"Nnn! Aaah!"
His mouth was gaping, his eyes still squeezed shut as Watson soon added another finger, stretching him and pumping deep, the officers' eyes all now on the doctor's fingers as they worked at turning the arrogant detective into a stammering, moaning mess. One of the officers shifted, attempting to use his cape to cover something stirring in his trousers.
"Jesus Christ...are you sure this is...?" One of the officers breathed, but didn't finsih his sentence, memorised by the surreal sight.
Watson smirked.
"He deserves it, don't you Holmes?" He gave a particularly vicious thrust into Sherlock's tight warmth, making the detective let out a shrill cry. To Watson's surprise, he was sure that what he heard in that was coloured with pleasure. Watson inhaled and then gave another hard thrust. "I asked you a question, Holmes. .?"
Sherlock groaned, his fingers clenching and unclenching, his body shivering and his face blazing in humiliation.
"I-I..."
"Holmes!" Watson snapped, giving him a hard smack across the rear, making him jerk forward in a flinch.
"Y-yes! I deserve it!" Sherlock yelped, grimacing that he had been forced to say it, the sting of Watson's hand still burning long after the smack.
"Yes, you do." Watson growled, still relentlessly fingering him, sometimes curling his fingers enough to make Sherlock whine in desperation. Soon, he was sure that he could feel Sherlock occasionally actually buck backwards into his fingers of his own free will.
"ugh...g-god...Watson...John.." Sherlock gasped, squirming. Then, that buck backwards. He definitely did it this time. Watson craned to look at his face. he was still obviously mortified in humiliation, but there was something in his eyes and his increasingly ragged breaths. Watson dared to reach around and brush his hand over Sherlock's crotch experimentally and hesitantly as he knew he was being watched by every pair of eyes on the scene. he wasn't surprised when he found that Sherlock was hard.
"Jesus, Holmes, are you enjoying this?" Watson gasped, looking repulsed.
Sherlock wished that the ground would swallow him up whole.
"N-natural reaction to such...such stimulation. I assure you that my mind is certainly not titillated or aroused." Sherlock said, trying to salvage some dignity in his scientific eloquence. He had to admit he was partially lying.

Watson grunted and after one last curling thrust that made Sherlock whimper he withdrew his fingers. He then turned to the remaining officers, a thought striking him.
"Gentlemen, if you could be so kind, I think that wishes to apologise to you all. If you could assist me..."

Sherlock gave a long groan.
"N-n..Watson, please..."
he pleaded. It was one thing to have Watson being so intimate with him - after all he knew him, and Sherlock convinced himslef that as a doctor this was common for him anyway...in a manner of speaking. However to have 5 relative-strangers violate him...
One officer practically leapt at the chance, though tried to look nonchalant. When he took up position behind him, Sherlock felt a hot erection graze his thigh. He glared at the floor and grimaced as he soon felt a foreign, rougher finger pry and push at his entrance.
"M-Merde!"
Sherlock swore in a hiss, trying to squirm away but unable to escape, but soon the officer's finger was pumping at him again, painful but at the same time achingly pleasurable in a bizarre way. Sherlock gasped and tried to bite off a moan, especially as he felt Watson's eyes on him, watching carefully. Soon he was lost in that sensation of being watched, and he found that he actually liked it. The idea of Watson so neutrally studying him as he was used and abused and pushed to an awkward brink between disgust and pleasure was...well, he had to admit, arousing.
He whimpered as Watson instructed the officer to stop and for another to take his place, and soon they were practically quieting. Officer after officer was allowed to finger him, some doing so with a detached but present determination of revenge at humiliating the great detective, but also some doing so with the eagerness of taboo, their breath quickening and titillated.
Sherlock hated that. But god it was so wrong that he couldn't help but long for it. It was exciting and taboo and certainly not dull.
When the last officer was instructed to stop, Sherlock leant agaisnt the wall, gasping and throbbing from use. There was a long pause before Watson returned to him.
"I hope that this teaches you a lesson, Sherlock." he said. "All of us here have seen you at your worst, without your little deductions and arrogance and superiority. You're no god, you're a man. And it doens't take much to humiliate you, do you understand?" Watson said.
Sherlock swallowed and nodded.
"Now. I don't believe it's enough. Since you revel in the perversity of this act, I think it appropriate that we all see you for the little whore you are."
Watson said acidically, though the insult was deemed more to humiliate him than what he truly thought of him. Sherlock craned to glare at him, but couldn't hide from the implications of his own raging erection any more than he could hide form the prying eyes an digits of the policemen.
Watson soon had his fingers in him again, Making Sherlock stiffen and shudder more.
"I want you to come for us." Watson said, his voice almost a whisper. Sherlock tingled at it. Oh god, John... he thought. He wanted that so much, and yet the idea of reaching orgasm in front of them all was abhorrent.
"Understand?" Watson prompted.
Sherlock whined in light protest, but Watson was soon pumping mercilessly hard and fast again, angling and aiming for the sweet spot, making Sherlock gasp and twitch, his knees threatening to buckle repeatedly.
"Come for me, you bloody queer!" Watson barked, making Sherlock flush in shame. "come on!"
"Aaaahnnn..ah! Oh God!" Sherlock gasped, digging his fingers into the brick work, his hips rocking and bucking back against Watson's fingers, his member straining for attention but getting none, making him want to scream in frustration. Watson carried on pumping and stretching as Sherlock squirmed and clawed at the brickwork, his groans of protest soon turning to loud long moans of pleasure and intensity. Soon he felt Sherlock's muscles tighten and spasm around him, and with a deafening strangled cry the detective finally came.
Watson smirked in victory and, once Sherlock had ridden it out, he withdrew his fingers and nodded for the officers to let him go. Sherlock immediately collapsed to his knees, panting.

"I want you to remember this, Holmes." Watson said, the anger gone but the authority still remaining.
Sherlock nodded wordlessly, his head spinning. He finally licked his lips and tried to regain control of his bretahing. "I...I assure you that I won't forget."
"Now...you were saying about powdered glass?"