Words: Work In Progress
Categories: M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Fandom: BBC Sherlock (TV)
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Developing Mycroft Holmes/John Watson, Developing Mycroft Holmes/John Watson/Sherlock Holmes

Tags: Jealous Sherlock, Morning After, Angst with a Happy Ending, John Watson is Holmes-sexual, Slow Burn, Mycroft is Naughty, Slash, Awkwardness, Flirting, Polyamory Negotiations, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Falling In Love, Voyeurism, Porn With Plot (or at the very least links to the other version)

HE MADE IT DOWN to nearly the bottom rung before realizing they had company. He groaned softly and squeezed his eyes shut before murmuring a quiet, "Mycroft," in greeting. It was both obvious and unsurprising that his presence was noted long before he'd noted theirs. Both eyes were already on him before he'd uttered a word.

He'd crawled out of bed only moments before, probably slammed the bathroom door behind him quite loudly before groaning into a long satisfying piss, which they'd probably noted as well. Privacy's a rare thing in 221B Baker Street, especially in the presence of both Holmes.

John met Sherlock's eyes and in return received a raised brow and an infinitesimal smile, which was not unusual as a form of greeting. Sherlock routinely managed to convey a great deal with a simple look and today was no exception. However, their lingering gaze was interrupted by Mycroft's delayed reply. He inclined his head solemnly and said, "J-o-h-n," in that silken-extended-meaning-laden way that he has. An unexpected tingling heat ran up John's spine, causing his eyes to nearly flutter shut and yet another inward groan.

He grimaced and managed a quiet, sarcastic, "Right. Great," each punctuated with a sharp final letter and slight shake of his head. He gripped the banister tightly before pushing off the last step.

Sherlock narrowed his pale eyes suspiciously and looked more closely between his brother and his best friend. He frowned at what he saw there. "John?" he prompted, causing John to stop midstride. He saw tension around John's eyes, deep creases across his forehead, a telltale stiffness in his shoulders and an unmistakably clenched left fist. The unfamiliar pang that spiked in his gut affirmed the mounting suspicion that he'd just missed something of import as it passed between them. "John? What's... great?" he asked again.

John released a sharp exhale through his nose and looked to the heavens, perhaps seeking some moral support before he said, "Oh, you know. Good thing it's not awkward or anything." He shook his head and slunk out of the room with impressive speed.

Sherlock shifted in his chair, making ready to follow John into the kitchen, with every intention of demanding an answer that made more sense but Mycroft held up a hand to stay him.

"WAIT," HE SAID, his voice barely above a whisper, drawing Sherlock's attention immediately.

Sherlock pinned him with a stare and demanded, "Explain!" He may have spoken at the same volume but his tone was far more urgent.

Mycroft took a few seconds to center his thoughts. Then he began, "Well, we did have sex the last time we saw each other." He paused just long enough for his words to sink in. He saw Sherlock flinch, reacting to an invisible pain. Then he continued. "He's probably feeling quite uncomfortable."

Initially, Sherlock reacted with denial, as he usually does. "No, he's not!" However, within, his Moderator reacted violently to the obvious falsehood. The mental prickling gave rise to the uncontrollable gnashing of teeth. Sherlock could lie to others, that was perfectly acceptable, but he'd long since trained his mind to refute such mendacities when directed at himself. He was forced to look away as Mycroft watched his internal struggle knowingly. With a firm grip on his back teeth he asked, "Why is he?" He took a soothing breath and then added, "Why would that matter? He's having sex with me now—not you." To anyone else, his words would have sounded menacing but Mycroft, as always, was nonplussed.

"Yes. I understand that Sherlock, but most people form attachments when they have sex. These attachments tend to linger." Mycroft explained, not unkindly. He kept his voice soft and steady, hopefully providing a calming anchor for Sherlock's obvious and rising agitation.

Sherlock looked at him with wide eyes, as an array of implications flashed painfully before his mind's eye. His head swung towards the kitchen where John sat with his back to the two of them—ostensibly drinking his tea. Then he turned to Mycroft, his eyes drilling into his. "Have you?" he asked quietly.

Mycroft sighed, contemplated the merits of lying and then thought better of it. "Yes," he admitted quietly, "but it doesn't change anything."

Sherlock's eyes darkened and narrowed. Then his gaze was drawn inexorably towards the kitchen, where they settled on John's back. Within, the Judge chimed in, adding unhelpfully, this is all your fault.

Mycroft watched as his little brother bit his lip. He witnessed a vivid flare of consternation and regret as it twisted and paled Sherlock's face. It was so unlike him, to show such blatant emotion, that Mycroft took a sharp inward breath.

Sherlock turned towards him, snapped "What?!" He frowned, pursed his lips in frustration. He had no idea what he should do. No matter how hard he tried, this was not his area.

Mycroft pressed his pity down deep, set a mask upon his face before he asked, "Will you permit me to speak to him privately for a moment?" After a brief silent pause, Sherlock nodded.

I do hope you enjoy this story. So far, I've written about 9 chapters. I'll post a chapter a week until I'm caught up. I'll give you links to A03 for any chapters rated more than "M". Read on for heaps of sexual tension, a bit'o angst and a good deal of smut...

Cheers!

blue