Summary: Sherlock and John are spending a weekend away from society when Mycroft interrupts. As the older brother, he feels entitled to embarrass John as much as possible. Humor, slash.
Rated: T for sexual jokes of awesomeness.
Requested by SongOfStars, and a really freaking awesome request at that. Keep these requests coming, peeps!
It was cold outside, much colder than they expected, but a bright fire blazed in the fireplace and heated the cabin den to a comfortable temperature. The room held several chairs and couches, one somewhat small table in the middle, and a few cheap paintings on the walls. Nothing fancy; just lots of space to get cozy.
Which is exactly what the two men were doing at that moment. John was silently congratulating himself for managing to pry Sherlock away from his work for the weekend, and bringing him to a lovely cabin in the heart of where-are-we village, just South of who-the-hell-knows county was an excellent idea. They left their laptops behind, and only John brought his phone. He didn't want Sherlock to be tempted if he brought his, which, of course, he would. For such an intelligent man, he had the attention span of a gnat.
No paperwork or books, no violin, no Mrs. Hudson to interrupt, Lestrade to barge in with a case or Mycroft to rile Sherlock up. Just them, in this tiny cabin, heat radiating off their bodies as they lay together on one of the couches.
Their limbs tangled together, hands roamed slowly up each other's bodies. John was pressed gently into the couch by Sherlock's larger form. Sherlock was careful not to put all his weight on the smaller man, instead settling for keeping his lower half off John's legs. He touched his hand gently to John's face and held him still as their lips danced together silently.
John let out a breathy sigh and pushed Sherlock's purple shirt aside. Half the buttons were already undone and he was tempted to pop the rest off as well but he fought the urge. This was the first time they had been alone - truly alone - since they got together. Sherlock was new to relationships and very unsure about them. John knew that part of the sociopath still felt like they were a distraction, a waste of time, even if that part was growing smaller with each passing day. He didn't want to complicate things by bringing his sexual urges into the equation.
Sherlock shivered under John's light touches, hands that spread out over his toned chest and tickled his bare skin. He lifted a leg over, straddling John, pulling their bodies closer for the heat, and pressed his tongue softly between John's lips. The taste of his tongue was something Sherlock was unafraid to say he'd become addicted to.
"You can...take that off...if you'd like," Sherlock whispered between kisses, tilting his head down to his shirt. John arched an eyebrow.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course," Sherlock sounded slightly offended by the question, but John knew the man too well. He could tell that Sherlock was covering up nerves. He knew this weekend would bring about new developments in their relationship, ones they both wanted, but Sherlock was still a virgin. It still made him nervous.
John smiled and dragged him back in for another kiss, moved his hands off his chest to thread his fingers through Sherlock's curly black locks. The groan he earned was music to his ears.
The world was spinning beautifully, everything falling into place in a rare moment of insight where John felt like everything was perfect, nothing hurt. And then it spun again, this time sending his mind to less pleasant places, because a new voice filled his ears.
"I'm glad I made it before the clothes came off."
John pushed reflexively at Sherlock, sending him to the ground. His body shot up and he stared silently at the man in the doorway.
Mycroft shut the door and turned to smile pleasantly at John. His eyes flickered to the ground and his smile turned into a smirk.
"Dear brother, I had no idea you liked to be taken on the ground."
John could feel his face heating up, eyes wide as saucers. Sherlock stood up slowly and brushed his clothes off, jaw flexed in annoyance.
"Your deductive skills are lacking, Mycroft. Clearly we didn't get that far," Sherlock muttered, hardly sparing him a glance. Mycroft gave an amused chuckle and looked between the two men.
"Please, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that I must have interrupted something naughty," he grinned.
"I'm sorry, what...uh...what are you doing here?" John barely managed to get the whole sentence out. Sherlock plopped down next to him on the couch and folded his arms across his chest. He hadn't buttoned his shirt back up; his chest glistened in the fire light and John had to force himself not to look.
"Oh, just visiting my little brother and his...friend." He nodded knowingly at John.
"We haven't- I mean- how?"
"Calm down John," Mycroft laughed as he took a seat across from them. "I've known for quite some time."
"Right. But how-"
"Dilated pupils in the presence of one another, more noticeable when standing close. Bite marks on your neck, a clear sign of sensual play, but Sherlock hasn't complained about a girlfriend in months so obviously they came from another source. The sudden, odd tendency for you to tilt your head towards the sky instead of straight in front of you, signaling that you're expecting some kind of attention from someone much taller than you- Sherlock, naturally. But it's a relatively knew habit, so it's more than just his attention you're beckoning; perhaps a kiss? And lastly, the abnormal plump of your lips after you two spend time together." He smiled charmingly. "Not really difficult to come to."
John sighed loudly and ran his fingers through his hair. "Right, I forgot there were two of you now."
"What are you doing here, Mycroft? It can't be for a simple visit - even if we did have that kind of a relationship, you wouldn't waste your precious time seeking us out when you know we wanted to be alone."
"Very true, little brother." He drew a folder out of his coat. "I'm in need of your expertise."
"Not interested."
Sherlock stood and walked toward the small kitchen.
"Sherlock Holmes, this is a matter of national-"
"It's always a matter of national importance!" Sherlock was like a pissed off beta fish whenever Mycroft was around. His whole body seemed to puff up angrily. "And how do I know this isn't another one of your tests? 'Let's see if my darling little brother will fall for another dominatrix?'"
"So John is a dominatrix?" Mycroft looked swiftly to John with a mischievous smirk before turning back to Sherlock, ignoring John's flaming red skin and deer-in-headlights eyes. "Come now, Sherlock, we both know nobody could drag your attention from him."
The two brothers watched each other, a silent stand-off, before Sherlock turned without another word and stalked into the kitchen. Mycroft sighed and rubbed the side of his face.
"Talk to him, John. Please. I'm sure you know how to...erm...handle him better than anyone."
John threw himself off the couch and ran for the kitchen. He had never been so embarrassed in his life, and Mycroft was intentionally trying to make it worse. He supposed it was his right as the older brother, but John hadn't prepared for this. He ran straight into Sherlock, who steadied him and looked calmly into his eyes.
"What's wrong?" His eyes skimmed over John's face, worried.
"Your brother keeps making sexual references and we haven't even- I mean..." John groaned and leaned his head into Sherlock's chest. Bad idea. The shirt was still unbuttoned. He could smell Sherlock's body wash mixed with skin and sweat, and it was maddening.
"And Mycroft said sex alarmed me," Sherlock chuckled softly. "I haven't even had sex yet, and you're still getting more worked up than me."
"More? Are you worked up?" John raised his head hopefully.
"Not a bit," He said easily. His lips twitched into a smile as John sighed. "I'll be the first to admit that I'm not an expert on social etiquette, but I'm fairly sure embarrassing the younger brother's partner is a vital part of being the eldest."
"Does that mean I have to suck it up and deal with it, then?" John couldn't help but smirk at the implications in Sherlock's tone.
"Just until he leaves." His eyes darkened slightly, pupils dilated. "Then, perhaps, you wouldn't minding sucking something else?"
John's eyes widened considerably and the gravel in Sherlock's voice when straight to his groin. He nodded quickly and grabbed Sherlock's hand, towing him back out to the den. The sooner Mycroft left, the better. John could handle a few more minutes of embarrassment for Sherlock.
"I heard that conversation, you know," Mycroft sang.
Or maybe he needed to get the hell out immediately.
Wow, that was way too much fun to write! Review please, and as always, I'm taking requests for Sherlock. Wish me luck, I'm off to watch The Reichenback Fall! Review! :D