Playing Doctor

By CastielLovesDean

Summary: Watson wants to sleep. Sherlock wants a blowjob. Let's see who wins.

Warnings: Rated M for explicit sexual conversation. I'm sure it ends far earlier than any of you would prefer, but I don't really like to write lemon.

"Watson? Watson, wake up."

Dr. John Watson grumbled and rolled over in his sleep. "What?" he demanded sleepily. His lover didn't respond, so he begrudgingly opened his eyes, then groaned at what he saw. "Holmes, get that out of my face."

"It's not in your face," the other man replied, stroking himself. "It's in my hand."

"Get what's in your hand out of my face."

"I'd rather put it in your mouth."

"Not right now, Holmes."

"The other end, perhaps?"

"No! I'm sleeping!"

"I vehemently disagree. I happen to know you are, in fact, awake. You could not converse with me otherwise."

"Fine! You're right. Know what else I couldn't do if I were asleep? This."

"Ack!" Sherlock cried out as Watson unceremoniously shoved him off their bed. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was, Watson? I could have been hurt. I could have landed penis-first and sprained it. Then I'd have to get a doctor to..."

Watson took a deep breath and released it slowly, steeling himself for what he knew was coming.

"Watson, I'm afraid I've hurt myself," Sherlock lied. "Yes, I believe I may have sprained my penis. Perhaps my personal physician would take a look at it? Hmm? A massage would probably help the healing process. And heat. Or soaking it. Watson, do you know of anyplace hot and wet where I could put my injured member?"

Enough was enough. "You know what, Holmes? This does sound serious. The best thing for a sprain is rest and ice, so I'll go get something cold, and you can make sure to stay off it for a week."

"I'm cured!" Sherlock shouted, jumping on the bed. "It's a miracle! You really are the best doctor on all of Baker Street."

"Mmm-hmm," Watson mumbled, pulling his blankets up to his neck and burying his face in his pillow.

"Watson?"

"What?"

"I think I might have actually hurt myself."

"Why's that?"

"Well, it's just so swollen, you see..."

"Good night, Holmes."

Sherlock sighed in discontent and leaned against the headboard. For the first time in his life, his plan had failed. Just then, he found himself pinned to the mattress with a lap full of Watson. "Wats-" His question was cut off with a kiss from his large lover.

"Does your injury still need attending to?" Watson whispered into his ear.

Sherlock squirmed under the other man. "I'm afraid so. Be gentle with me, Doctor."

During the next half hour, Dr. John Watson was anything but gentle. He tired Holmes out quite thoroughly, then rolled over and finally was able to finish sleeping.

Fin.

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