"Oh god, th-that's it, don't stop, John."
Sherlock was moaning so loudly, that John was sure Mrs. Hudson could hear. She would be smirking at them all week, for fuck's sake. She'd torment them with happy smiles and suggestive winks and John would have to leave the room every time he hears her coming up the stairs.
"As you wish, darling." John had moaned in Sherlock's ear, causing the younger man to whimper, John had moved down to bite at Sherlock's neck, leaving dark bruises that everyone at Scotland Yard would notice tomorrow. Last time someone noticed a hickey on Sherlock, it was Mycroft and he had nearly fainted.
"I-I'm going to… I'm…" Sherlock urged him to go faster, frantically grabbing at John's backside. John obliged, going back to his love's ear and whispering quietly.
"Do it, Sherlock. You brilliantly wonderful man, come for me." Sherlock had screamed out his release, waking the entirety of London. He shot his load all over his stomach and John wasn't far behind, spilling his cum inside of Sherlock.
They both laid there, side by side, willing their breathing to go back to normal and their hearts to stop beating so fast. Sherlock gasped and his eyes lit up. That's the answer! He's solved it!
"Vanessa." And Sherlock swears to this day that he hadn't meant to say the name so breathlessly. He had just been fucked into oblivion and you can't really blame him for sounding so shattered, eh?
John sat up and stared at him as if he's grown two heads, his mouth was opening and closing like he wanted to say something, but he didn't quite know what.
"Who… Vanessa?" John's face went from confused to absolutely livid in exactly four seconds. Sherlock's hand went up and smacked his own forehead. Stupid, stupid. He had realized the error as soon as that woman's name left his mouth.
"We… We just shagged, you still have my come dripping from you, and you…say Vanessa?" Sherlock would've preferred if John's face had stayed livid, but it had changed into a look of sorrow. He couldn't form words that he needed to say to John, his mind palace was an absolute disaster. What had he done? He hadn't meant to…
John dragged himself from their bed, got dressed, and left without another word. Sherlock sat there staring at the slammed door, he couldn't move, couldn't speak. John had instantly jumped to a terrible conclusion and Sherlock couldn't even get his legs to work properly to chase after him. Stupid.
Ok, sooo here this is. I tried, honestly.
I don't own Sherlock.