A/N: Yeah, Johnlock, woo! Inspiration hit randomly today about what if Sherlock and John had suppressed feeling for each other but Lestrade/Donovan had made them agree to kiss ('agree') for proving a case. It was interesting and I did some research to made it fit, but I think it does quite well, so, here's the result of my fleeting idea.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or plot lines mentioned in this work of fiction.

All rights go to BBC Sherlock and its associates.

Enjoy!

~PL&A

"I don't know how she could have possibly slipped him the poison. They were clearly emotionally attached but she wanted rid of him. He had moved in with her, but only recently, obvious from the proportion of his possessions in relation to hers. Why she wanted rid of him is irrelevant right now but how,how she did it is a much more germane question." Sherlock paced along the rows of the morgue turning as each sentence erupted from his mind; each unique thought pushing him in a new direction. "Cyanide was the cause of death; that much is palpable from the cardiac arrest and slight cherry tinge to the skin, the boy couldn't have been more than 48 kilos, judging by the indentation he left on the bed so 72 milligrams of cyanide would have been fatal. That amount would fit into a capsule no bigger than 2 millimeters in diameter. The question, therefore, is how she managed to make him ingest the pill." Sherlock finished the enunciated drabble not with a question, but a statement to himself. This should be easy, the whole murder took place in one room, a room he had surveyed persistently so that it was mapped to memory.

Sherlock's nose flared as he reevaluated the facts, "The two were on the bed, doing" Sherlock offered a dismissive hand gesture over towards where Lestrade, Donovan and John were standing, "whatever, but the poison was already administered by the time they were on the bed, as per the body temperature when the police found her 27 minutes after the boy's death. What were they doing before that that led to-"

John sniggered in the background. Lestrade and Donovan joined in shortly after. Sherlock shot them an inquiring glare with eyebrows furrowed and eyes burning. Lestrade stopped first, stepping forward, arms crossed. "No ideas, huh?" he asked, a tone of mockery lacing through his words, revelling in the brief annoyance that flashed across Sherlock's features.

"Sociopath, really seeing that now" Donovan sniggered. John was the only one to keep up his somewhat adorable giggle in the corner, a trait which Sherlock surprised himself by noticing.

Finally, the only logical figure in the room, in the form of John, stepped forward to raise Sherlock's deepened eye brows.

"Ahem, they were, erm, around 24, weren't they?" Affirmed by a curt nod, he continued, "they were, kissing" he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, "rather passionately, it would seem, for her to be able to slip him the pill, you know" he stammered.

Sherlock's eyebrows instead furrowed further. Was that possible? Damn his lack of experience. It didn't seem logical, but John's body language and somewhat experience from university inclined Sherlock to believe him. It was in all aspects plausible considering young couples often engaged in kissing before deriving to the bedroom. But was it enough?

"How can it be proved?" Sherlock stated, however he asked the room this time. Donovan fell silent and Lestrade's face fell, before gently rising to a smirk as an idea evidently formulated behind his eyes. John appeared to flush. Weird, Sherlock thought. John was only ever phased by openly discussing sex or intimacy, the deduction had not yet reached that level of talk, had it?

"Well," a slightly gleeful yet gruff Lestrade piped up, but Sherlock cut him off, finally piecing together the facts of this somewhat greyed out field of his knowledge.

"Someone needs to prove it to me, so that I can be sure, a deduction is nothing but heightened guess work if no facts can back it up. One must engage with me in this specific form of osculation for me to confirm the murder."

Suddenly the room went silent. The effect of those words evidently repulsed Donovan, yet tones of humour played on her features yet they were written across Lestrade's.

"One of us may be willing to, uh, educate you in that particular area…" he trailed off pushing his elbow back to nudge John, who in turn glared daggers at him, flushing red at how the DI's previous assumptions of John and Sherlock's involvement were about to be forced into light. He shook his head.

"No!" he whispered, "I have done many things to aid Sherlock on cases, but limits must be respected and this case, mine are-" he cut off as he noticed Sherlock studying him intently.

Slight tremor running through his fingers, not trauma; he's not under any evident stress, nerves, anxiety, anticipation? No, not the later, that would mean he wanted to proceed with this ordeal, so Sherlock grudgingly dismissed the thought. Grudgingly, he thought. Why had that happened? Irrelevant. Eyes wide with fear, obvious. Stance becoming military, more defensive, ah, so he was determined to stand his ground on this, pity Lestrade wasn't having any of that; Sherlock noted the inspectors mouth opening coyly.

"John, we've been lenient with your presence here and the morgue and letting you in on confidential information, the least you could do is aid us on the situation" he smiled, not quite completely joking.

"You have me here because Sherlock would not be if I wasn't, we come as a pair"

"Precisely my point, go ahead, John" Lestrade stated, clearly amused in John's choice of words, pushing him forward slightly before sinking back to watch and laugh with Donovan.

Sighing as he lurched forward, John made the mistake of lifting his chin to meet Sherlock's gaze. Under the heat of the gaze John took a fraction of time to admire the flawless expanse of pale skin that made Sherlock so striking. His blue flecked eyes were justified and well met by the slashes that were his cheekbones. His lips were conveying no emotion yet John still wanted to capture them and read them with his own. No, surely not, he shook his head before pulling back rather ashamedly. Turning around, cheeks glowing he pointed out a simple fact to the hyena of a man in the corner.

"We've no, er, replica for the cyanide capsule" he stated, struggling to keep his voice level, somewhat distracted by the heat emitting from the man beside him. Quickly, not wanting the moment to end, Donovan reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small box of mints.

"Use these" she said almost impatiently, chucking them to John who muttered some form of thanks.

He popped open the cap of the box and slowly tipped out one of the mints. Sighing and shaking his head, he contemplated how he was even in this position.

"It's only for a case, John" Sherlock reminded him, noting his trepidation and nervousness, yet something edged his words which John tried desperately to place. John nodded swiftly before bringing the 'pill' to his lips and secreting it under his tongue, trying to emulate a possible scenario.

Then they waited. Neither Sherlock or John wanted to 'indulge' the moment first. Sherlock's eyes traced John's worried features yet lingered on his eyes, not blown wide with fear as per his first assumption. Arousal? No. Possibly still fear. Sherlock's mind was failing and he needed this detail to secure the case as much as his sanity. Quickly growing impatient and some form of frustrated, Sherlock uttered a single word,

"Please"

And at that purely desperate word, something needy triggered inside John and he surged forward to capture the detective's lips.

At first there was nothing but a hot pressure against his lips and John instantly regretted the idea and thought to pull away. But before he could, Sherlock responded. His soft lips moved against John's and the kiss became so much more real. John tentatively reached up to cup the back of Sherlock's neck and deepen the kiss. Sherlock gasped at the hand which gave John a chance to run the tip of his tongue across Sherlock's smooth and perfectly sculpted lower lip. Sherlock elicited a quiet moan which John felt go south immediately and force his other hand to push against Sherlock's lower back. Sherlock was scorched by the touch but longed for the source. He brought his slender fingers to trace John's jaw as his tongue met John's and they almost longingly slid over each other. The mint had mingled its way onto John's tongue which Sherlock found exhilarating mixed with the decidedly ravishing taste of John. In an attempt to find purchase for his trembling knees, Sherlock's free hand slid down to John's waste, meaning it was his turn to gasp and reach forward and scraping his teeth across Sherlock's lower lip in the process. This ripped a guttural growl from Sherlock's throat.

Panting filled the space between them as they leant against each other, regaining their taken breath. John opened his eyes to find Sherlock's blow wide in unquestionable lust. His eyes flickered to his kiss swollen lips which John was trying so desperately to commit to memory. Sherlock's tone dropped half an octave when he gasped

"We're not achieving the purpose here John," hearing his own name fall from Sherlock's debauched lips urged John forward to recapture Sherlock's lips in annoyance and somewhat in an attempt to complete the 'experiment'. He located the now small mint and rolled it across his tongue before dipping it into Sherlock's, hot, wet and waiting mouth. The kiss should have ended abruptly at that. The case was solved, it was possible and Sherlock would now be ingesting cyanide. However, Sherlock was spiked with something crueler than a drug and had its own highs – desire. He pulled lightly on John's lips with his teeth, beckoning him to stay. Their tongues fought against each other and John's hand attempted to pull Sherlock impossibly closer. He pushed too hard and at once the kiss was lost, Sherlock was forced into John's neck yet still he was moving his lips. John's eyes flew open and God that felt incredible. Arousal spiked through him and his hips involuntarily snapped forward. The feel of hot, undeniable pressure ripped moans of bliss from both men.

"Sherlock," John gasped, only making the man in question suck harder where he had stayed on his neck.

"Sherlock" a more stern voice came across the room, "is the evidence, uhh, conclusive?" Lestrade offered as the two flushed scarlet, unravelling from each other with hushed looks of 'this isn't over' written across their features.

"Yes," he supplied, tone forcibly level, drawing his coat around his heated groin. "It is definitely possible for the capsule to be hidden and expertly manoeuvred to a partner's mouth" his smile flashed at John who's cooling cheeks reignited, "Julia Agar is your murderer. Arrest her, I'll hear of the trial in the morning, not before" and with a warning look to the inspector and Donovan he swept out of the room, leaving John a brief second to simply nod before Sherlock's gloved hand pulled him away by his collar.

So...that happened.

I debated writing the inevitable ending to the fic (smut for those who maybe aren't sure ;)), but I decided that if some of you wanted to read a T then I would keep it so for the first chapter and those who wanted it to end in a culmination of their lust - I will write it and change the rating happily if you want it.

Feedback is like jam and kittens, constructive criticisms isn't rage so you can throw that in there too :D

Leave how you want it to end if you like and I'll happily do whatever!

Thankyou!~PL&A