John was sat in his chair typing away in his blog about his latest adventures with Sherlock. He was completely immersed in his writing, tapping the keyboard enthusiastically as he re-lived his experiences. He took a breath before quickly reviewing what he had written. He smiled, cracked his knuckles and continued typing, even more enthusiastically than before. He didn't even notice as Sherlock entered the flat. The detective glanced at his screen. He knew what John was writing about, and he liked it. He liked it a lot. For John wasn't writing on his personal blog, oh no, but a very private blog. A blog he had only started a few months ago. A blog only meant to be seen by Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson.
This was intimate, romantic. Sherlock wondered what kind of depths of detail John was going into, he knew how imaginative he could be, he knew how passionate he could be. He sat in his chair opposite, waiting for his companion to notice him. It took a moment for John to look up from his screen, his eyes just on the horizon of his laptop. A few seconds past. Sherlock was sat with his arms resting on the armrests of the chair, his legs open, John in his focus. The look he gave him was enough to make anyone feel weak inside. But John was a man who was immediately in love with Sherlock at first sight, the effect this look had, forced John to shiver to his core. He exhaled and felt something tingle inside. He slammed his laptop screen down and placed it to the side, all without breaking eye contact with the detective staring right back at him. Sherlock stood up and unbuttoning two buttons, exposing his chest, screwing with John's mind. The doctor stood up in response almost falling back into his chair. Sherlock stepped towards John, unbuttoning another button.
Sherlock was towering over John, his bare chest close to the doctor. John put his hand on Sherlock's chest and fondled his way to the back of the detectives neck. Sherlock hugged John at the waist and drew him in even closer. The dark haired man could feel the doctor's delicate breath. John placed his other hand on Sherlock's cheek, his gentle fingers made their way the dark luscious locks.
Sherlock kissed the doctor, hugging his waist tighter. John was messing Sherlock's hair passionately, he loved the way the detective's hair looked when it was like this. Still making out, Sherlock lifted Johns jumper off, only pulling away from the kiss to take the jumper off over Johns head. Now only wearing an overly tight vest, John dragged Sherlock to the black leather sofa. John falling on top of Sherlock in their typical orientation.
The doctor brought his legs up to the sides of Sherlock's hips in a straddle position. He ripped off Sherlock's purple shirt of seduction in a lustful rage before taking off his own vest. They both felt a certain something on Johns end of the stick. And this certain something made the pair even more impassioned.
It was obvious what was going to happen next. John knew it, Sherlock knew, and little did they know, Mycroft knew it too. Oh yes, peeping through the door was the ice man, watching the whole time. A few moments had past, when Mycroft suddenly heard a deep groan. A noise of longing anticipation, one of his boys was going to blow. He left them to their raunchy shenanigans before whispering "get rekt". Or at least he thought he had whispered that. He stood there in growing horror as he realised he had uttered that a little too loudly. Back in the hot mess that was the Johnlock skin flick, everything had come to a halt, sweaty and out of breath, the fiery duo knew they were not alone.
Sherlock seemed more worried than John, he seemed to recognise the voice through the door in amongst all the raucous thrashing. "MYCROFT?!" Sherlock shouted, but there was no response. Instead the door creaked open and a familiar umbrella emerged.
Mycroft walked over and stood in front of the sofa, analysing the situation. Sherlock was now calm, but poor John was panicking. "Mycroft? Oh fml" John said as he bowed his head into Sherlock's chest in shame. "Yes doctor Watson, it's me" "Why are you here?" Sherlock said in a harsh way as he stroked Johns back trying to comfort him. There was a moment of silence. Mycroft looked down before answering. "I know about you two. In fact, I've known for a while now and... well" he struggled for words "Sherlock" he said in a disappointed way "What?" The detective snapped impatiently with John still with his head down. Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, you were right."
Sherlock knew what he meant, but John was completely lost. Acknowledging Johns feelings to this borderline incestuous situation, he asked Mycroft knowing it would embarrass him. "I was right about what?" Mycroft sighed again. " You know what I mean, I know you do, Sherlock. Don't do this to me." John found the courage to turn and face Mycroft and gave his classic 'wtf' face. Realising John indeed did not know wtf was going on, Mycroft elaborated after sighing for a third time. " Sherlock, I am lonely" he paused and was almost brought to tears, he whimpered " I need a goldfish. I need you"
John immediately got off of Sherlock, side stepped around Mycroft (knowing fully he checked out his junk) and walked to the bathroom, completely nude. But did he give af? Certainly not. Sherlock and Mycroft were definitely going to get down, the brothers knew Johnny boy was out for good.
Mycroft composed himself as Sherlock, nude also, took off his coat from behind. "No one can know" Sherlock whispered into Mycroft's ear.
Sherlock stripped his brother naked. Mycroft stood there loving every minute of it. The Holmes boys hugged each other, starting to breathe heavily.
Meanwhile in the bathroom, John was desperately trying to find an escape route, he couldn't leave through the bathroom, there was no way. He was going to have to walk through the living room, and witness the burning brothers bromance get wild. He needed to get dressed, he was not going to be naked in front of the ice man again. What could he find in the bathroom to cover himself up? John searched like a mad man for some clothes. He found a towel and wrapped himself up. He was going to make a run for it.
He was stood at the door, ready to make his quick exit, but he stopped and thought. 'Why am I so weird about this?' Incestuous yes, but, Sherlock and Mycroft are the hottest men I've ever had the good pleasure of knowing.' He dropped the towel and waited at the door, contemplating, fight (i.e take on the Holmes brothers) or flight?
Back in the living room, Sherlock and Mycroft had finished their make out session (and some other things) but they wanted John involved. It hurt Sherlock that John didn't want to participate, perhaps he could change his mind.
Sherlock made his way to the door of the bathroom. "John?" He said in a quiet voice. The doctor had made his decision. "What?" He said, without hesitation. "You can't stay in there forever" Sherlock replied. "I'm coming out" John said. The door opened, and the men were face to face. "I'm sorry Sherlock, it's just that I your the only man I've ever been with" Sherlock took Johns hands and lead him to the living room.
Mycroft was sat on the sofa smoking a joint owning the place. His boys were back, and all participants were ready. He offered his cig to John to ease his nerves. He willingly took a puff and sat beside the ice man. Sherlock sat on the other side, with Mycroft in the middle. Three naked men, about to physical.
The sight was all too much for Mrs. Hudson standing by the wide open door. That was her squad and she wasn't involved. Mrs. Hudson was fuming. "BOYZ!" she shouted with her arms crossed. All three gentlemen turned their heads at the same time. "Ah Hudders" said Sherlock reassuringly. "What is going on here?" She demanded. "You didn't think we'd leave our number one housekeeper out did you?" Mrs. Hudson giggled and immediately began to remove her clothes. She stood on top of the coffee table in front of the lads and used her skills as a exotic dancer to woo the gents.
The ice man thought the act was missing something. Still gazing at the seductive dancer, Mycroft reached for his trousers on the floor and slipped his hand into the pocket. He pulled out a specially composed mix tape for this exact moment. Mycroft got up and played the tape. The first song came on.
'Somebody once told me the world was gonna roll me
I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed'
John, though high off of the weed courtesy of Mycroft, could tell straight away the song was from the first Shrek film. An instant classic. The moment couldn't be purer for John, or all of the people inhabiting the living room of 221b Baker Street. All was well. Twas a fine eve in London that night.