"Explain it to me again," John said shortly to Sherlock.
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the request, and gave an exasperated sigh.
"Really John, in my absence, is it possible you've grown even more idiotic?"
"Not helpful Sherlock," Lestrade chided gently as John slowly seethed in his chair.
Sherlock pursed his lips together and held his tongue. He's had to do that quite frequently with John in the few months he's been back.
Be sensitive Mycroft had said
Watch out for his feelings Mrs. Hudson warned
Lestrade had simply threatened to kill him, if Sherlock hurt John like that again.
He took a deep breath and let a smile creep across his face.
"I need your help John."
"Yes, I got that part Sherlock. What I don't understand is the part where I'm pretending to be a prostitute."
Lestrade cleared his throat and glanced away.
"John, it's really very simple. We need our suspect to be distracted long enough for us - "
"You need our suspect distracted," Lestrade corrected Sherlock quickly.
"For me, with Lestrade standing idly by, to break into the suspect's car and check for the evidence," Sherlock said slowly. Perhaps if he spoke slowly, John would understand.
"And what does that have to do with me pretending to be a prostitute Sherlock?" John asked more insistently and forcefully. Perhaps if he shouted Sherlock would understand.
"Well, our suspect has, um, ordered one for tonight," Lestrade responded sheepishly, as he leaned against the desk and kicked at the rug a bit.
"So, why not let them get the one they ordered?" John turned his head to the detective.
"Well, Sherlock wanted to make sure he had enough time, and didn't want to leave it to chance," Lestrade gave a pleading look to Sherlock to help him explain.
Sherlock smirked at the detective's discomfort with the plan. Yes, he wanted to ensure there was enough time, and to help settle another matter. Two birds with one stone.
"Why not just bribe them to take the time you need?" John asked Sherlock.
"In hindsight, perhaps that would have been adequate. But I had to think quickly, and I've already sent our suspect your image, and they've accepted. Made arrangements to meet you tonight," Sherlock glanced away, picked up a piece of lint and studied it in the light streaming in from the window. He felt John's stare on him, so he careful looked back. Right, he's angry.
"Cancel."
"Mmm, I'm sorry, not possible. We need this John, to prove they are the guilty party, before they kill again. There are lives at stake," John's face softened at Sherlock's words. That worked every time, playing on John's sense of good and hero complex.
"Why can't you go yourself?" John asked.
"Just how much experience do you have with breaking in to vehicles John?" Sherlock chided.
"Good point," John said sullenly, and then glanced hopefully at Lestrade.
"Don't look at me, I'm just an observer in this. I can't be a part of any of it. We're crossing a few lines here as it is," Lestrade shook his head.
They've been chasing the killer for weeks, and after nine bodies, they had the suspect narrowed down. But they could not get anything on them. Sherlock and Lestrade had decided, this was the only way to get the murders to stop, and if a few laws had to be bent...
John had not been apart of this case, and when Sherlock called him to come over this afternoon, he had hesitated. They had worked one other case together since Sherlock's return. It had gone...surprisingly well. And because it had gone so well, at the end of the case, Sherlock simply assumed John would move back into Baker St. and that all had been forgiven.
John had to explain that for him, forgiveness would take time. Sherlock did not seem to understand.
John glanced at the desperate and tired look on Lestrade's face, and then looked at the hope in Sherlock's eyes.
"What's the plan?" John asked. A broad smile broke across Sherlock's face.
"Jump in the shower, and I'll get your clothes ready John. Have to look good for your date," Sherlock said slyly and John hesitated for a moment.
Lestrade glanced down to his watch, and said "We've got less than an hour John."
"Alright! I'm going. But I'm going to need a bit more information," John said as he stared at Lestrade and then Sherlock.
John turned on his heel and stomped down the hall and into the bathroom. As they heard the water run, Lestrade turned to Sherlock.
"Are you going to tell him that - "
"It's not relevant Lestrade."
"I'll have to trust you on that one."
"Mmmm, about time you learned to trust me," Sherlock said as he walked towards his bedroom to get John's clothing ready, leaving Lestrade standing there shaking his head.
John leaned comfortably against the bar, nearly in the middle of his second pint. He had a comfortable buzz going. This place was one of the poshest hotels in London, with a beautiful restaurant and bar. On a Friday night, there was hardly an empty table or stool.
Sherlock had be thin on details, only to say that the suspect would know John on sight, and that John's alias was Timothy Branson. The target's name was Carey Thompson.
John raised his hand to his mouth, to speak into the small microphone in his watch.
"I don't know why you couldn't tell me what she looks like."
"I couldn't have you give a hint of recognition John," Sherlock said into John's ear wig, as he walked down the back alley towards the hotel.
John hummed his response. "And just how dangerous is this criminal?"
"They've killed nine, all women John, so you have nothing to worry about," Sherlock responded, as he walked towards the hotel car park.
"So, not in danger. I hope she's good looking," John said as he glanced about and took a sip of his beer.
"Does that matter? It's not like you're actually going to have to sleep with them John."
"Well, just, you know, for the beginning part. It may seem a bit off if I don't seem interested."
"Are you saying you can't pretend to have interest?"
"Yes...I mean, of course I can pretend. It's just easier if I'm attracted to the other person, that's all."
He could hear Sherlock's footsteps come to a stop, and he whispered under his breath,
"They just arrived, get ready."
"Understood," John replied.
John looked into the mirror that was behind the bar. He straightened the lapels on his suit jacket, and pulled his tie to be straight. Sherlock had done well outfitting him. The clothes were for a slightly younger man's style, but fit John comfortably. A slim cut black suit, with a silver shirt and matching silver tie. The clothes were slightly too tight, but certainly accentuated John's assets. And Sherlock had somehow done John's hair to make him look exactly like the character he was taking on. A high priced, male escort.
The bar swayed with the all the people bursting at the seams, and John tried hard to watch all the entered in the door. Several groups of women came in, no single ladies. After a few men cleared the doorway, there stood a statuesque blonde, glancing about the room. She was looking for someone and John suddenly hoped it was him. She shifted nervously, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and tugging at the hem of her skirt...which was sinfully short. Although it was hard to pay much attention to her skirt since her cleavage was just calling for John to...
"Your picture didn't do you justice Timothy," A man's deep voice purred into John's ear from behind him. At the same time, a hand landed on his knee and crept up his thigh. It took all John had not to jump at the contact and the definate...maleness of the person making the contact.
He glanced back to the blonde, who was just then giving a hug to her friend and following them to a table. John quickly composed himself, and turned on his stool.
"Carey, is it?" John said smoothly with a smile.
Carey glanced over John, and took in the remaining hints of surprise on his face.
"Not what you were expecting?"
"Well, no. I mean, I wasn't expecting someone so...handsome," John said shyly.
Carey gave a winning smile, reached over to his beer and took a drink.
John took a good look at the man before him. He was quite handsome. Dressed perfectly in a bespoke suit, fine shoes, his black hair had soft waves to it, carefully styled and his body was fit and lean. His smile was perfect and he had a charming air to him.
What slowly dawned on John was that Carey looked remarkably like...Sherlock. A very friendly, smooth, and charming Sherlock. But nonetheless, they looked quite similar. John took a bit of a nervous gulp. Not good.
Carey turned his eyes back to John, and openly leered at him, taking in every inch from head to toe.
"I think we're going to have a good time Timothy," Carey said as he gave John a very hungry look.
John shifted a bit uncomfortably in his stool and took a sip of his drink, just as he felt a hand on his thigh giving him a hard squeeze, and drift upwards until John let out a slight gasp.
Carey took a long draw off of his beer, reached into his pocket, and took out a hotel key card. He slide it across the bar to John, who quickly put it into his pocket.
"We're in room 302. Finish your beer and then follow me up there," Carey said as he threw some bills on the bar and then leaned over to place his mouth on John's ear.
"I'll be all ready for you Timothy," and gave a swipe with his tongue along the edge of John's ear.
A shiver went down John's body
A shiver...and not the 'That was a deadly criminal that just licked my ear, ewwww' kind of way.
More like in a 'Oh my god, I've not gotten laid in 6 months and it felt amazing to be licked by a very handsome man' kind of way.
This was definitely not good. John grasped his beer and took a long drink, before he raised his arm and started to berate his watch.
"Sherlock! You didn't tell me that Carey was a man!"
Sherlock grunted with his work at hand and said, "Bit busy John."
"You let me think that Carey was a female Sherlock!"
Sherlock slid his arm in through the wheel well and found...nothing. He turned round, sat down and leaned against the car to think of his next move while he responded to John,
"Does that matter?"
"Yes! Well, no...maybe not. Just a little warning would have helped that's all."
"Little surprises make life interesting. You'll be fine John."
"Still don't see why you aren't the one sitting here."
"Can you imagine my response to Carey grabbing my thigh?"
"How did you know? - nevermind. You would have just played it off just fine."
"Sex, John - not my area - remember? Being able to play it off requires knowing what the normal response is. And while I may have gotten past the grab and grope part, there's those kissing and other...things that may happen, that I don't have familiarity with," Sherlock took off his gloves and stood to gaze at the car.
"Besides, remember John...you can't break into a car," and Sherlock was starting to wonder if he himself could break into a car.
"Mmm, and your not at all interested in sex or men," John said as an aside and he drank down his beer.
"Well, I wouldn't say that John," Sherlock strode to the other side of the car. Perhaps Raz meant the driver's side wheel well.
John sat up a bit. "Do you mean you are interested? In which one? Sherlock?"
"Better get going John. Don't want to keep him waiting," Sherlock said, smirking at the sound of John's voice, as he slid down to the ground and reached his arm into the car once more.
John drained the rest of his beer and walked out. He looked longingly at the front door and wished he could just walk out.
But he soldiered on and headed towards the lifts. He entered alone and pressed for the third floor.
Sherlock said he needed thirty minutes with the car, to break in and out without a trace. He'd already had ten minutes, according to John's count. So, just twenty minutes alone with a man who wanted to have sex with him that looked just like his roommate. Oh sure, John would be fine...
John looked at himself in the mirror of the lift. He closed his eyes and thought back to what his counselor tried to make John discuss. Perhaps given the depth of his bond with Sherlock and the level of grief...maybe John had romantic feelings for his dead roommate?
A part of him thought that made sense. But John's mind would always remind him, he's not gay and not attracted to Sherlock. A small part of him would just say, maybe you didn't have the chance to find out.
John opened his eyes and looked at himself again. Maybe this wasn't a bad way to find out. He could go a far as he wanted with someone who looked an awful lot like Sherlock, without risking any part of his friendship with Sherlock. Without revealing anything he may...or may not...feel for his roommate. John reached into his jacket pocket to feel the small hypodermic needle, his last resort was to knock Carey out if things got too far. So, maybe this would all be fine.
John stepped out of the lift and headed towards room 302. He took out the key card and slid it into the slot. He walked into the well appointed room, all the lights off except the side table by the bed. And John came to a stop at what he saw.
Carey was sprawled on the bed...completely in the buff. Naked. Sans clothes. There seemed to be miles of pale skin and tight muscle. And Carey was sporting a very, very impressive...
"I was starting to wonder if you'd forgotten all about me," Cary said, feigning hurt feelings. "I was feeling so terribly lonely."
John drank in the sight of the man, and began to have his own feelings, but they weren't of loneliness. John adjusted himself slightly as he took a cautious step forward and gave his best mischievous smile,
"I'll have to make it up to you then, for keeping you waiting."
"Yes, you will," Cary said as he crooked his finger and gave a come hither nod.
John hesitated, he needed to buy some time. He glanced over to the loo, and gestured towards it.
"Do you mind if I freshen up a bit?"
Carey gave a slight frown but responded with, "If you must."
John took a few steps towards the loo, but stopped when Carey called out,
"I don't want a stitch of clothing on you when you come out," at which John's entire body seemed to blush.
John quickly composed himself, stepped in and closed the door behind him. He flipped on the lights, looked at himself in the mirror and took a deep breath. He turned on the water and then raised the watch to his mouth.
"Sherlock?" He said in a whisper. "Sherlock? Answer me you git!"
"John, I-I can't talk right now. I'm still...working," Sherlock said as he layed under the car, staring up at parts that he was starting to realize, he didn't recognize at all. He had assumed if it was something Raz was capable of, he could surely do.
"Well, you've had fifteen minutes by my count, and I really need you to hurry up."
"I dunno know John, it may take me a bit longer than I thought," Sherlock responded as he tried to fit his hand in and up.
"No, no, no Sherlock. I need out of here right now. There's a naked man out there, waiting for me to come out of the loo...naked...and then...service him."
Sherlock immediately stopped what he was doing.
"What do you mean? Isn't there normally some kind of, I dunno, foreplay or something? Kissing? Why couldn't you drag it out? That's what you were supposed to do John...make it take longer. Why did you just jump right in?" Sherlock responded with a tinge of panic in his voice.
"I'm not the one whose jumped in Sherlock. The man was already naked and...ready for me when I came in the room. I-I-I'll just have to use the sedative."
"John...I...I need just another few minutes. Just give me 2 minutes. Okay? If I can't sneak in and out by then, by all means, knock him out," Sherlock said quietly.
John sighed with relief. "I've bought myself some time coming in here. And I'll go ahead and get undressed so I can go out there without him being suspicious. I'll just keep the syringe in my palm until I get close enough."
"Good...good...great John." Sherlock sighed and then added "John?"
"Yes Sherlock?"
"I'm sorry for putting you in this position."
John smiled. Getting an apology from Sherlock was priceless. "It's fine, Sherlock. You know I would do anything for you, right? Just hurry up ok?"
"Of course John."
John reached up and slowly pulled and loosened his tie.
Sherlock pulled his arm out and slapped his hand to the ground in frustration. He had tried Plan A and then Plan B. Perhaps it was time for Plan C. He only had...thirty seconds remaining.
He took out his cell phone and dialed.
"Brother dear. How are you?"
"What do you need Sherlock? Raiding another top secret military base?" Mycroft asked, as he set his tea cup down and leaned back into his chair.
"No, of course not. You know I'm not one to repeat myself. I just need a small favor, rather quickly."
"And what shall I get in return?"
"My gratitude."
Sherlock received silence as a response.
"And I will work a case for you," Sherlock added reluctantly.
"Two cases," Mycroft countered.
"You haven't even heard the favor...it's hardly worth two cases!"
Silence again.
"Alright fine, two cases."
"What do you need done Sherlock?"
"I need all the CCTV for the area I am in to be inaccessible for past fifteen minutes and the next 30 minutes."
"Couldn't break into the car without leaving evidence behind?"
Sherlock turned his head towards the nearest camera just in time to see it lower and point right at him.
"Like you could do better."
"I think that my plan would be better, on the whole. Risking your doctor's virtue as well. Quite the gamble. I do hope it pays off for you."
"Stay out of it Mycroft!"
"You brought me into it Sherlock," Mycroft admonished.
Sherlock just gave a smirk and a nod. He worried his bottom lip and looked back at the camera.
"Sowhatwouldyoudo?" Sherlock mumbled.
"I'm sorry Sherlock. While I'm nearly certain I know what you said, I must hear it again."
Sherlock bodily sighed and repeated himself, but only mouthing the words...Mycroft would have to read his lips.
What would you do?
"Look over to your right. See it?"
Sherlock turned on his heel and saw it. He gave a broad smile.
"Thank you dear brother," Sherlock said as he slipped his gloves back on.
"You're welcome Sherlock, and do tell me how it turns out with Dr. Watson."
Sherlock smiled into the camera and said
"Of course I won't," and then quickly hung up the phone.
Sherlock walked over and then stopped. His eyes fell closed at the realization and he quickly called out,
"John? John? Can you hear me? I need him conscious John. Don't...don't give him the sedative if you can avoid it. John?"
John had just dropped his pants down to the cold tile of the bathroom. He straightened up and looked down at the syringe that sat on the counter.
"John?"
"I...I...understand."
"John, I'm sorry. I-I couldn't get in the car. So, I have to do something else. It'll take just 5 more minutes John, and then I'll come get you out. John?"
"It's okay Sherlock. It'll be fine," John reassured him. Naked with a handsome stranger? Well, John's been in worse situations than that.
"Okay," Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to block out what was going to happen in that hotel room in the next five minutes. He reached out, picked up the metal stand, and swung as hard as he could.
John slowly placed the syringe back into his jacket pocket. He gathered his suit and clothes carefully, draped them over his forearm and stepped out into the hotel room.
He walked through the room, setting down his clothing on a nearby chair. He stood in front of Carey, and presented his naked form for the man to gaze upon. Just five minutes. He can do this.
He stepped closer, and stood on the side of the bed. Carey swung his legs over to hang off of the side, and focused his attention on John's groin.
Carey turned his face up to look at John, with a bit of glee at what he found there.
In a different life, John Watson may have been well suited to be an escort, being very well...equipped for the job. Carey reached out slowly and grasped John's cock. As he started to stroke it, John closed his eyes and could feel the heat and desire grow. When he opened his eyes, Carey was leaning over so John could only see the top of Carey's raven curly hair, and John's mind immediately took him into a fantasy that he had been dancing around for weeks. That it was Sherlock's hand, Sherlock moaning in appreciation, Sherlock saying...
"Oh my god, it just keeps getting bigger."
Well, perhaps Sherlock wouldn't say that...
John hissed in pleasure as Carey quickly took in just the head into his mouth. He gave a press of his tongue, and started to work himself further down. Once John was tickling the back of his throat, he pulled off in a gasp,
"My god, I couldn't even get half way down...," and then started over again. Carey grasped the base and started to stroke while he sucked eagerly at all that he could take into his mouth. John just held on, lacing his fingers into those silken curls, and let himself imagine it was Sherlock's clever mouth. He was trying to pay attention to how much time there was left, but really failing. Spectacular blow jobs tend to make the mind wander...a bit.
Carey slid his mouth off with an obscene pop, and ordered John,
"Get on the bed and lay down on your side."
John dutifully obeyed, laying down on his right side. He watched with interest as Carey also layed down on his right side, except his head was facing the foot of the bed and his groin was...oh, right.
Carey pressed his hardened prick against John's lips and John slowly allowed access. He gave an experimental suck and swirl of his tongue, driving Carey to moan loudly just before he took John into his mouth.
It was sensory overload for John. They shared actions, moans and responses. Carey would drive his mouth down and up quickly, John would do the same and it was amazing, both feeling it and doing it. John sucked harder and in response, Carey did the same, and John's eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head.
John's whole body became a live wire, and when Carey slid a hand between John's thighs, and slid a nimble, wet finger in...John's whole body jumped in surprise and pain. Carey laughed a bit with John's cock still in his mouth, let it slide out a little, his lips brushing the head as he spoke.
"I'd almost believe you've never been fucked before," Carey said with a chuckle.
John let out a single huff of laughter and was about to just say he really hadn't and couldn't we just stop...when Carey started to move his finger in and out. And then slid a second finger in, curving his fingers up to find...
"Oh My God!" John called out, followed by a deep moan. And then his body instinctually tried to press down onto Carey to take more of him in.
"Mmm so eager and responsive, you are such a treat Timothy," Carey said just before he took John back into his mouth and kept sliding his fingers in and out.
John didn't have his wits about him, and felt momentarily confused as to why his lover was calling him by another man's name. And then it started to dawn on John, and he tried to pull himself out of the haze of pleasure he was in.
Carey was not his lover. He was a murder suspect. And to Carey, his name was Timothy.
Just as Carey slid in a third finger, there was a quiet knock at the door.
Carey just ignored it and kept on sucking John's cock while he slid his fingers in and out.
John stammered in a rough voice,
"Some-someone's at the door," and tried to ignore that his body was protesting his minds efforts to put a stop to all this.
"They'll go away," and he thrusted his fingers in harder, causing John to moan loudly. The knocking got louder with a small voice calling,
"Mr. Thompson. I'm sorry to disturb you, but there's been an incident in the car park and your vehicle was-"
"Go away!" Carey shouted and tried to resume what he was doing. John was a quivering mess of desire, and he was split between trying to continue one of the best sexual experiences he's had and getting Carey to answer the damn -
"Mr. Thompson. This is the police. We need you to come out of your room right now. Immediately! Stop wha-whatever it is you are doing and come out here now," Sherlock's voice boomed through the walls as he banged forcefully on the door.
"Alright!" Carey shouted as he climbed off of the bed and said over his shoulder to John.
"Keep yourself open for me darling."
John just laid there with his jaw dropped open and carefully pulled the blankets up to cover himself.
Near the door, Carey grabbed a robe out of the closet, quickly tied it around his waist and yanked open the door.
A very small man stood there, one of the bellman. He had a kind smile and his arms folded loosely in front of him.
Carey looked at him and said.
"What do you want?" Then he poked his head out into the corridor, and asked the little man, "I thought the police were here?"
"Umm, they were, but they had to leave, and they wanted me to tell you that they need you right away, in the car park. Please, sir," the small man said, shifting his eyes to Sherlock who was peaking from around the corner.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere with you. Just tell them I'll be down in...an hour," Carey said and he wound up his arm to slam the door as hard as he could when Inspector Dimmock stepped in to hold the door open.
Dimmock caught his breath from running down the hallway, but quickly composed himself.
"I'm sorry sir, but I need you to come with me to your car. Right now," Dimmock said firmly and emphasized his words by shoving his ID card into Carey's face.
Carey glanced down to read, Detective Inspector Dimmock. At least it wasn't Detective Inspector Lestrade, the one that has been hounding him the last few days. He let his shoulders sag in defeat.
"Alright, I'll get dressed. Give me just a minute."
He closed the door, and stepped into the nearby closet. He stabbed his legs into his trousers and quickly buttoned up a shirt, John noticed he skipped a button, and then Carey said,
"I want you here when I get back. I'll pay for the extra time. Just...don't leave."
John just gave a faux half smile and nodded.
Carey nodded back, grabbed a pair of shoes and stepped out into the hallway to follow Dimmock downstairs.
John watched the door slowly close and he swung his legs off the end of the bed. He rubbed his hands across his face, trying to make sense of what the hell just...
"He won't be coming back John," Sherlock said quietly, leaning against the door.
John snapped his head around to look at Sherlock while he quickly pull a bit of sheet to make sure he was covered. Although the sheet being pulled over his groin only accentuated the state John was in...appearing to make a tent large enough for...
John just sighed at his predicament. He just nearly had sex...he wanted to have sex with a murderer with a sinful mouth and clever fingers. And now the apparent real object of his desire was standing there looking at him with an unreadable expression. Was he disgusted, shocked, just plain weirded out? Or was this just another behavior that us idiots engage in?
Sherlock looked over John's confused expression, and quietly asked.
"Are you okay John? Did he...hurt you?"
"No Sherlock, he didn't hurt me."
"You were moaning really loudly, are you sure he didn't hurt -"
"Yes, Sherlock. I'm sure he didn't hurt me," John said quickly, and then let his head fall back into his hands.
"You should have just, you know, stopped him if he was hurting you.."
John snapped his head around to look at Sherlock and started to say, "Sherlock, I told you, he didn't..."
The look on Sherlock's face was impish laced with concern.
"Would it make it easier, for you to think he forced me? That I didn't want it? That he hurt me?"
Sherlock just looked down, with a guilty look on his face. He was the one that forced John, coerced him and used his good nature to get him into that man's bed.
John stood and wrapped the sheet around his waist. He strode over to the detective and stood in front of him. Sherlock quickly took in John's smooth skin, his muscled torso, and lovely blonde wisps of hair that trailed down to...
"I could have stopped at any time. I could have easily overpowered him and made it stop. It felt so good, and it had been so long since I felt that way. What happened in the last few minutes -"
"Thirteen minutes John...," Sherlock murmured.
"What?"
"It-it took me thirteen minutes to get here - sorry"
John just closed his eyes and swallowed.
"Fine. Thirteen minutes. I wanted it to happen. It was everything that I crave all rolled into one experience. Sex, danger, and my deepest fantasies...fantasies that i didn't even know existed. I can't tell you I didn't enjoy it."
"So, you would do it again?" Sherlock asked cautiously.
"Yes, definitely."
"Does the person have to be a murderer?"
"Ha ha, no."
Sherlock just nodded, and turned towards the door, and started to say,
"Well, I'll give you some privacy to get -"
"I'd like to try that with you some time. If you were interested," John stood smiling.
Sherlock looked down again. "John, I don't have the depth and breadth of experience Carey has, to provide you with -"
"That's not all that I enjoyed about it Sherlock," John said quietly. He took a half step forward to close the distance. He moved his face to be in front of Sherlock's eyes, and said
"It was you. He looked like you. When I touched him, I imagined it was you. And when he touched me, I pictured you. And it was amazing. I just wish I could have the real thing."
Sherlock looked up through heavy eye lids and pressed in a bit. A kiss, this was the perfect time to kiss John and show him just how much he wanted...
"I'm not going to kiss you right now Sherlock."
Sherlock stepped back with a questioning look on his face.
"As much as I want to, I'm not going to get close to you just after I've...been with a stranger"
"You've had sex with strangers, come home, and been in close proximity to me before"
John just looked up, hoped for strength, and then looked back to Sherlock. "Not when I've wanted to then kiss you. Sherlock, I'm naked and still covered with..."
"Saliva, lubrication, ejaculat..." Sherlock started to list before John interrupted.
"Yes... I mean no, well...not the last thing. I need to shower and get dressed. I'll meet you in the car park, okay?"
Sherlock nodded and reluctantly stepped out into the hallway.
Sherlock emerged from the shadows just as Carey Thompson was taken away in handcuffs. Lestrade smiled at the consulting detective, and quietly asked.
"I thought the plan was to break in, check for the evidence, and then escape, leaving no trace behind?"
"Plans changed."
"Couldn't break into the car could you?"
"Nope."
"I told you it was harder than Raz made it sound."
"You were correct...in your assessment. It was significantly harder."
"My god, I wish I could get that in writing," Lestrade smirked.
Just then John walked up and stood behind the two of them.
"So, if you didn't break in, how did you know the evidence was in there?" John asked quietly.
"He didn't know. He guessed," Lestrade responded smugly.
"I deduced it."
"It was a guess," Lestrade reemphasized.
"Perhaps my concern for John led me to make a...very educated guess," Sherlock said as he turned to look at John and gave him the smile that is only for John.
John looked over the man, and decided everything was going to be alright now.
He looked back over to the cars.
"Why did you have to smash up so many? What a waste..." John murmured looking at the damages to the Lotus, Ferrari, Bugati...
"If it was just Carey's car that was damaged, he could have declined to have the incident investigated. But by smashing everyone's car, and leaving the key piece of evidence inside of Carey's car, the police were compelled to investigate, and therefore finding the evidence to our murders."
Lestrade looked down in a bit of shame, but not regret. He looked over to Sherlock and carefully chided.
"That's a thin line you created between right and wrong...and then gleefully jumped over. Let's not get into the habit shall we?"
Sherlock nodded and smiled in agreement. Lestrade slowly walked away while still looking at Sherlock. "And tell your brother I expect some CCTV tape for Christmas. For my eyes only."
He glanced up to the nearest camera, winked, and then walked away.
"CCTV tape of what?"
"Of me smashing a dozen high end cars...at least, that's what I hope he's talking about."
They both turned and looked at the same camera and gave a hearty laugh.
"Dinner?"
John nodded. "I'm starving."