My first ever fic! Hope you enjoy it. Stay tuned for more slashy moments and that true M rating XP

"Bed," said Sherlock as John took one step into the room, continuing to read the case notes in his hand. John paused for a second, giving his flatmate a puzzled look. Sherlock sighed. "Sarah let you sleep in the bed. And from what I can tell," he took a deep breath through his nose, finally looking up at John. "Sleeping is all you did." He casually went back to the notes; even from across the room John could see the dark haired man's bright eyes scanning line after line of information, processing it quickly in that strange brain of his. "Do you HAVE to do that Sherlock?" he muttered, slipping off his coat. Sherlock simply chuckled, still reading the notes. John sighed, frustrated with both his flatmate and his girlfriend and, dumping his coat on the handrail, made his way up the staircase to his room.

He slipped his shoes off, slumping down on his bed; perfectly made of course. One army habit he had never been able to kick. He lay still for a second, playing over the night's events. The meal had been great, lots of flirting, plenty of wine. She had invited him back to her house for coffee and, of course, he had accepted. He hadn't said anything to upset her. Damn, she had been making suggestive comments all night. But when he had finally made a move she had said that she thought they should wait. Wait? He'd already been waiting long enough.

He began to play over how he would have like the night to end, with him screwing her senseless and waking up with her in his arms. It wasn't until a few minutes, an extremely vivid fantasy later that John had noticed how painfully hard he had become. This wouldn't be an issue if Sarah hadn't rejected him the night before. He quickly unbuckled his belt and pulled off his jeans, throwing his hands into his boxers. He groaned slightly as he touched his painfully hard cock, moving his hand slowly up and down his length.

Sherlock heard the telltale noise of jeans landing on the floor above him. Odd, he thought to himself. John wasn't one to sleep in the daytime. The detective picked up his phone, typing quickly before hitting send.

You want to arrest the step-daughter's boyfriend – SH

Such a simple case. He couldn't understand how Lestrade's tiny brain hadn't worked in out in two weeks what had taken him only half an hour. His mind suddenly turned back to John as a small moan made its way down the staircase. He would go and talk to him. That's what a normal flatmate would do, or at least that's what he had gathered after watching so much daytime TV. Sherlock moved up the staircase with ease, having previously noted every place in which they creaked or groaned. John's door was ajar, a beam of light cutting across the dark hallway. He was about to push the door open when he suddenly noticed the doctor spread naked and wide across the double bed, his hand working furiously between his legs.

John's mind was racing with the thoughts of what should have happened last night as his continued to pump his hand up and down. Sticky pre-cum dribbled down his shaft as his fantasy got more and more intense. Sarah was on all fours now, John kneeling behind her. He slipped himself into her with ease. God she was so wet. He began to move in her, slowly thrusting, causing her to moan and push herself back on to his thick cock. His hand continued to pump as he felt himself nearing the end. His eyes were closed, both in the fantasy and in reality as he concentrated hard. Below him, the woman suddenly turned tighter, her high moans replaced by huskier ones. John opened his eyes and looked down, continuing to thrust himself into the hole. But now in front of him, instead of long blonde hair, he saw the familiar black curls of the world's only consulting detective bouncing with every deep thrust. It was too late now. He was too close to stop. He pushed himself deep into Sherlock, causing them both to moan as John's vision went white.

Sherlock watched, transfixed on the man before him. He felt his own trousers tightening as he watched John moving his hand faster and faster. This wasn't meant to happen. Sherlock didn't get turned on so easily. But he had never seen something so beautiful as the man he lived with falling apart in front of him, letting out a hoarse, rough moan as he spilled over himself. He moved quickly, knowing that John was sure to open his eyes again soon. The detective began to step carefully back down the stair case, stopping suddenly. He was sure he had heard the other man whisper his name.

John opened his eyes, looking down at the white streaks that almost made a pattern across his stomach. He hadn't... had he? Surely he hadn't just fantasised screwing Sherlock. And surely he hadn't whispered his name as he came. Surely not. The doctor shuddered for a second. Where on earth had that come from? He fumbled on the nightstand beside him, grabbing a tissue and cleaning his stomach as best he could, his mind still swirling as he breathed hard. He had just fantasised about fucking a man, not just any man. Sherlock Holmes. The scariest part? It was the best wank he'd had in years.