A/N: This is my first fic. Ever. It's not really meant to be IC, since sex isn't exactly in Sherlock's division (hurr hurr hurr), but it's an idea I've had for a while and so I thought 'Screw it. I'll just write it anyways'. However, I will still try my best! So, here you go~

1.

They'd burst through the door of 221B, their laughter breaking through the stillness. Only a few moments ago they were being chased by two large and quick men who were desperate to get the jewelry Sherlock had just stolen back. They'd taken various routes to get back just to lose them. Once they had jumped a few fences in a row, the men were out of their sight and they raced home. There was no way those two would know where they lived, so it was a safe bet.

And now the two were doubled over in laughter. Despite all of the adrenaline rushing through them, they didn't actually feel like they could, as some people would put it, lift an entire car. No, this feeling calmed them down; made them feel at peace. Soon the laughter began to diminish into small giggles. After the giggles were gone they would return upstairs and either eat and go to sleep or stay up the remainder of the evening and piece everything together, as they did every other time. Tonight the doctor felt it was going to be the latter.

John looked up at Sherlock to ask if they should head up, and before he knew it he was pressed up against the wall, the detective's lips ravishing his jaw. Before the doctor could protest (if he was going to protest), the lips suddenly pressed against his. Sherlock bit John's bottom lip, eliciting a small moan from him. The taller male smiled in satisfaction and gave him a kiss filled with nothing more than pure unadulterated lust. And, of course, John responded. He allowed his tongue to slide over Sherlock's in an erratic manner, every once in a while he let it caress the other's lower lip, which caused a low moan to rumble in his chest.

"Upstairs." John breathed when there was a short break. Sherlock simply nodded and the two quickly made their way up to their flat, the bag full of the jewelry left behind as well as a few articles of clothing.

As soon as the door shut behind them, John began to rip off his flat mate's clothes and in turn Sherlock did the same. They claimed each other in another deep and heated kiss. John's hands made their way down to Sherlock's ass and groped him, making the other shiver in response. They rubbed up against each other, desperate for friction, their kiss never broke. They don't know how it happened, but then they were on the couch. John was sitting down while Sherlock was on his knees in front of him. His hands squeezed John's thighs and with a sexy smirk, he licked the other's shaft, circled the head lightly with his tongue, and slowly began to stroke it.

"F-Fuck Sherlock…!" John moaned as his hands entangled themselves into the dark brown locks. After much begging and pleading, Sherlock finally took the other into his mouth. John's moans soon turned into small, breathless chants. "Yes, Sherlock" and "Faster" and "Fuck Sherlock!" Just as he felt himself building up, someone burst through their door.

"Bloody hell Sherlock! I've told you not to withhold-"Greg Lestrade broke off mid-sentence as Sherlock released John with an obscene 'pop' and jumped to his feet, as well as the doctor. A few other members of the yard peeked in as well and upon seeing what was going on, gave a light gasp. The DI's face turned a bright red, and suddenly the withheld evidence didn't seem so important.

With a scowl on his face, Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm busy."He growled as John pulled a pillow off the couch in a poor attempt to hide himself. The mortified doctor then dropped his head in shame and used his free hand to shield his face despite the fact that everyone knew who he was.

Greg swallowed hard and took a few steps out of the flat, the rest of his team following suit. "I- Uh- Yes. I can see that. I-I'll just be going. Get your statements tomorrow, yeah? Bye." The words were spoken so quickly that even Sherlock didn't understand what was being said. But it didn't matter, for the door shut once more and the two were left alone.

Sherlock smiled with accomplishment and took the pillow John had and threw it on the ground. He then pulled the male close against his body and tilted his chin up so they were looking at each other. "Shall we finish what we started?"

2.

John was in the kitchen cooking dinner when Sherlock burst through the door. "JOHN!" The detective shouted. The sudden noise almost made the doctor spill the red sauce all over himself. Instead, he was treated to a nice burn along the side of his finger.

"Bloody hell... Sherlock!" He responded as he dashed to the sink. He turned on the cold water and let it run over his wound as he whimpered silently to himself. Sherlock appeared in the doorway, holding a tub full of various body parts. He set it on the ground as he began to chatter excitedly.

"Molly just got these in today. She said she didn't need them and so I said I would take them off of her hands- no pun intended- and she boxed them up for me! Just think of all the experiments I could finish, John! Once I'm done with these it will take me-" He looked over at John and stopped talking. He walked over to the other and examined the hand that was still being run underneath the faucet. "You burned yourself cooking. How?"

John felt a small surge of irritation as he looked up at the other. "Well, when you burst through the door and yelled my name I got a bit startled." He explained. Sherlock made a noncommittal noise and pulled the other's hand out from under the faucet. He took hold of the injured finger and looked it over, as if he were the doctor of the two. Then, without a warning, he stuck the digit into his mouth and ran his tongue over the burn. John winced slightly in pain and opened his mouth to tell Sherlock to stop, but the detective, as always, was one step ahead of him. He pulled the finger out of his mouth and began to lightly blow on it. It was a bit awkward, but it did feel good to have that cool air blowing on it. He looked up at the other and was kissed tenderly.

"I'm sorry, John." Sherlock murmured against the lips before kissing them again. John raised an eyebrow slightly at that. Sherlock never apologized, to anyone. And if he did it was sarcastic and not meaningful. But with their lips pressed together, John could tell that the other was sorry. He didn't want to spoil the moment and decided to continue kissing. Questions could wait until later.

Of course, it didn't just end with a kiss. Sherlock ran his hands up John's jumper only so his fingers could gently rub the nipples. John shivered from the new contact and deepened the kiss they shared; the pain from his finger was forgotten.

Eventually, they managed to get themselves undressed. Sherlock had gotten their things from his bedroom, and leaned over the table as John slid an uninjured finger into him. A gasp passed the taller male's lips, followed by a deep moan. When deemed appropriate, John slid another finger into him to stretch him wider. Sherlock's knees buckled slightly, but he managed to keep himself standing ok.

Meanwhile, Anthea had just sat down at her desk. It'd been an hour since she'd last checked on Sherlock and John, and she knew that within five minutes Mycroft would be asking her to check in again. So, she figured she might as well get it over with so she could go back to texting. A few weeks earlier, Mycroft had managed to get a few cameras installed around his younger brother's flat. He'd put them in vents since he knew at this point Sherlock would think that his brother would get craftier. The only way to trick him was to put them in simple places, mainly vents.

Anthea sighed to herself as she opened up the first camera, which was in the living room. There wasn't anyone in there, so she moved onto the next one which was in the hall in front of their flat. Again, there wasn't anyone there. The third camera, however, had something. She blinked a few times and zoomed in to get a closer look because from the looks of it…

"Oh!" She gasped suddenly, scooting her chair away from the computer quickly. Well, she had not expected that. There on the screen were the two men, obviously going at it from the way their heads were tilted back.

"Ah…" A voice from behind her murmured, making her flinch. She whipped her head around and saw Mycroft standing behind her, looking as though he had just figured something out. Quickly, she closed the window and stood up, clearing her throat as she did so. Without a word, she picked up her phone and began walking and typing away once more. The two left the office, erasing their minds of the horrific images and went on about their day.

The two lovebirds would figure this out the next time Mycroft stopped by.

+1

It'd been a rather stressful day for the two men. There weren't any new cases that Sherlock deemed worth their time and so for the past several hours, they'd been sitting around. Well, John was sitting. Sherlock, on the other hand, was throwing himself about the room, complaining about how bored he was. He even went as far as to complain to John in French about it. When the doctor sighed and told Sherlock he didn't know any French except for hello and goodbye, it caused the other to groan loudly and fling himself into a kitchen chair. Really, it was unnatural how he could get so loosely limned like that. Not only did he take his boredom out by throwing himself around, but he also pestered John quite a bit. He would keep touching him and poking him and pulling his hair. It was like being with a two year old. A couple of times he had snapped and told Sherlock to knock it off, but his words went unheard and the other just continued.

"Jooooohhhhhnnnnn." The taller male groaned again as he stumbled into his room and flopped onto his bed. John looked glanced up from the book he was reading and stared at the doorway. His name was called again, and so with a frustrated sigh he snapped his book shut and trudged towards the room.

On the bed was Sherlock, who was laying on top of various books and papers. "You know, instead of whining and annoying me all day you could call up Lestrade and just take one of those cases he gave to you." He muttered as he leaned against the frame and crossed his arms. Sherlock looked up from the pillow he'd buried his face in and pouted.

"But John those cases were so easy even you could solve them!"

"Gee, thanks." John replied as he sauntered into the room and cleared a small spot on the bed so he could take a seat. He placed a hand on Sherlock's back and rubbed him in a soothing manner. This caused the other to sigh quietly and he turned his head to the side. "I know, I know," John murmured, rolling his eyes, "That's not what you meant. But honestly Sherlock, go do an experiment or something. Just stop giving me hell about you being bored okay?"

Sherlock rolled onto his side and nodded, even though John couldn't see. "Fine." He muttered before he wrapped an arm around the other's waist and pulled himself close enough that his face was buried into his lower back. "Mm, but John I don't want to do experiments. I want to do something new."

John raised an eyebrow at this. What could possibly be new that Sherlock had never done before? It seemed like the man had done everything and then some. "Oh?" He questioned as he looked over his shoulder. "And what would that be?"

With a small smile on his face, Sherlock lifted the back of John's shirt so just enough skin was exposed. He placed feathery kisses against the skin. John tensed up for a moment, and that only made the detective snake out his tongue to get a sample of the other. Goosebumps told Sherlock that he was doing the right thing and so he took it a step further and groped his lover through the thick material of his jeans. John moaned quietly, and pushed his hips up into the touch. As the taller male began to undo the other's jeans, he whispered softly against the skin. "I want to take you into my mouth slowly."

"Mm..."

"I want to be able to see your face as you climax."

"Mm…"

"And then I want you to take me slowly."

"Sherlock…"

Sherlock paused to kiss John's back again, then resumed his fantasy "And I want you to leave your mark on me."

Now John stood up to push everything he could off of the bed. Sherlock did the best he could as well. John then got back onto the bed, but this time he sat on his knees. The taller male did the same and leaned over to take off his lover's shirt. Instead John leaned in and began to kiss the other's neck and unbutton his shirt. The kissing quickly turned into light nips, just enough so it would leave a mark on the other's pale skin. Though he was still a bit embarrassed to claim publicly that Sherlock was his in this way, there had been something in the other's tone that made him want to do it desperately, and so he did. Soon their clothes were discarded onto the floor, and Sherlock was underneath John, his hands roaming the other's toned body. They were kissing and rubbing up against each other, but soon that wasn't enough. John reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out the lube before he applied a generous amount to his fingers and began to prep the other.

Mrs. Hudson came quietly up the stairs, a plate of fresh biscuits in her hand. When she reached the top, she noticed that the door was cracked slightly open, and she took it as an invitation to come in. She lightly rapped on the door frame and popped her head in. "Woo-hoo!" She announced quietly. Instead of a doctor and a detective, she was greeted with silence. A small frown pulled the corners of her lips downwards and she ventured further. She was at the kitchen door when she heard the squeaking of the bed and the rather obscene moans coming from Sherlock's bedroom. Her cheeks tinted a light red and she smiled a little to herself and shook her head. Honestly, those two seemed like teenage boys rather than middle aged men. Nevertheless, she set the plate of biscuits on the table and exited their flat, making sure to shut and lock the door behind her. When she got to her flat, she called up Mrs. Turner to brag about her two.