AN: Another lame attempt of mine to write a Sherlock fanfic. Try to enjoy, and don't be shy about reviewing. Thanks for even clicking on this. As you can all tell I am not the creator and I do not make any sort of money off of this.

Enjoy.

The flat was silent, not as cluttered, and lacking any type of decaying flesh. Sherlock had gone to solve a case somewhere in the Middle East leaving John to be by himself. He was invited to come along with him since John was familiar with native language and will give him something to blog about, but John refused. He already miss a lot of work because of his flatmate, and rather not venture close a war zone. And he'll also be damn to do any type of work for Mycroft. Sherlock tried his very best to bully the shorter man into going with him, but he stood his ground. Even though it seems impossible for him, John can damn well say no to the dark haired man. It might take every fiber of his body to do so, but he will succeed never the less.

It's the third day of Sherlock's absence and and he won't be due back to Baker Street in the next 4 four days. The detective had decided to be nice enough to help Mycroft with a rather tricky problem that has been going on in the government. Apparently there's been some disturbance with international trade, and a killing spring of businessmen which were all traced back to the desert lands. The only reason why Sherlock would even acknowledge such an event was because it was disrupting his family business, and his mother was not happy about this. Which lead him to go off to solve the problem before his mother had a fit.

John truly enjoyed his time alone from Sherlock, but it was getting dull first day of the slender man being gone was refreshing. He got to do a few things that he hadn't realized that he missed like watching the telly without being interrupted, opening the fridge without seeing a pair of eyes, and even being able to wank a little bit without feeling embarrassed. He didn't have to worry about something being on fire, or bombarded by insults. He even accepted an invite from lestrade to go to have a pint at a nice pub with some other fellas from the force. It's been a looong time since John has been able to socialize outside of the practice and without Sherlock in his presence. It felt nice at first, but then it got tiresome. Sherlock was like his drug. He is very destructive but give him immense pleasure. In a weird sense, John couldn't live without Sherlock. John then snorted.

"I better stop thinking that way before the rumours become true." He muttered to himself. He wasn't gay especially not for Sherlock. Or at least he thought so. Sherlock was an extraordinary man with looks that are almost as brilliant as his intelligence. The doctor couldn't help but admire the man's beauty. Yet at the same time, the man is arrogant, cocky, childish, and insensitive. "I guess that's one of the side effects of being beautiful." John thought. Some times whenever those accusations were getting to him a little too much, and he begins to doubt himself he'll go over a list of things that makes him who he his. One of those ingredients is the fact that he's straight. Which hasn't become relevant until he meet the infamous detective. He definitely enjoys breasts and curves. There was no doubt about that. But Sherlock's fesic was unworldly. He never dwelled on such a topic because first it's little less hectic to think about your best mate in a sexual way, and secondly because Sherlock would know in an instant what he was thinking. He always does.

But now, now he could do all thinking and ogling he wanted. The short man pulled out his phone and clicked onto the menu then pressed the gallery icon. He went through the few pictures he had saved onto his phone until he found the one with him and Sherlock. Lestrade had taken a picture of them after they got done solving a rather tricky case. Sherlock had his oversized coat off for once and had on that damn purple shirt that was way too tight for him. If you payed any attention to it you can see the button in the middle of his chest barely holding on. If he were to move or stretch in a certain way, surely that durable button would pop off and fly far far away, or at least John Watson was sure it would. Beside the tall detective was John. He was wearing a thin jumper, for it was pretty warm that day, and had on one of the goofiest smiles. Sherlock on the other hand looked like he was straining his self to even smirk. He wasn't one who liked to have his picture , so he was probably cursing Greg for getting him to take one.

John stared at the digital image for some time now while reminiscing all the fun times he and Sherlock had had when they are merely a few seconds from death, and how wonderful it feels. He loves the rush that the curly haired man gave him, and loved every moment where Sherlock makes him practically beg for the sleuth presents. "Oh great now I'm a fucking masochist too." he groans to himself.

Once he thought up masochist, The Woman popped up in his confused mind. Oh how he loathed her. She deliberately stolen Sherlock from him and hurt the man in the process. During that dark period of his, he began to despised Sherlock a little bit for getting attach to the dominatrix.

Even though he won the "game" at the end, Sherlock still had his guard down and became vulnerable to her. Which allowed her to take full advantage of him and had the detective wrapped around her finger. Something that John had never witnessed before and something he was never able to succeed (not that he wants to) He could give the lengthy man a few whippings for that himself. He chuckled at the thought. Then he really thought about it.

How would it be to have Sherlock completely under his control. Would it be arousing or pathic. Would he feel guilty or empowered. He guess he would never know, but there is no harm in exploring it in his mind as long as he doesn't make it known to anyone else.

How exactly does one take control of an apathy sociopathic detective that seems to be able to know just about everyone's life story in a glance. John turned off the telly and laid down on the couch with both arms behind his head. "Mmmm. What will it take to bring a Sherlock to his knees?" he asked himself. " Why and am I talking to myself." he asked again with his face scrunched up with confusion. " Cause your an idiot" He said in a deep voice trying to imitate his best mate. Then snorted at what he just said. John went back to thinking about how could he get an egotistical genius under his control. He knows Sherlock isn't gonna agree with anything sexually deviant with him but John is just gonna pretend like the sleuth already did.

"I think I need to start asking myself what questions instead of how to do this and that." John spoke aloud. "What empowers Sherlock?" John only needs a split second to answer that. "DEDUCTION!" He shouted, not sure why removed his rough hands from behind his sandy haired head to the sides of his temple and began to think. Deduction was Sherlock's super power, so in order weaken him he'll have to get rid of the man's deduction skills but how? John muses. By taking away his sense. He uses all five of them to deduce, so that would mean that John would need a variety of instruments to take that away from him. He'll obviously have to blindfold him which would give the man a sense of vulnerability. Definitely bond his hands to together to get rid of the sense to feel through his hands. And then John thought about what to do with his mouth. He would use a cloth no wait a ball to gag him. The youngest Holmes's mouth seem perfect for one. That would give him discomfort.

John can practically imagine a small red ball parting the curly haired man's lips, and saliva that was gathered up in his mouth; dribbling down his mouth to his chin with his cheeks even more hollowed in. It once came across him that Sherlock had the perfect mouth to preform fellitio, but then he competely dismissed that thought once he realized he had thought that. However, right now he's going to fully explore the abandoned fantasy.

John felt a familiar stirring in his groin and placed his left hand on his chest while his right arm draped across his his face covering his eyes. He then rubbed his left breast, then the right and traced small spirals around his nipple. He move the sensual hand down from his chest to his stomach "What exactly is so alluring about him" John question himself. "Oh that's pretty fucking obvious!"

The only man in 221b rested his hand on his groin. "Well his cheekbones are to start." He cupped himself . "His fucking galaxy eyes." He begins to slowly rub is harden member through his thin gray pajama pants. "His fucking waist and back side." He then quickly remove his hand from his groin so that he could pull down his trousers and briefs just enough to free his hardened cock.

He holds the image of Sherlock on his knees with his mouth gag with a small ball between. His skin flushed all over bringing his skin some color for once. His cock is red from being held back from his release. The man his making a mess on the floor with his drool and precum. His chest rising up and down rapidly from trying to take in as much air as possible through his nostrils since his air supply is being restricted from the ball in his mouth.

The picture is so vivid to John. He can practically sense Sherlock's presence. He viciously strokes his cock. He then imagine Sherlock on all fours with his hands still being bond. He would try to balance himself on all fours, but would wind up having to settle onto his forearms to support his upper body.

By doing that Sherlock's arse would be in full view, and gosh, what a glorious arse that is. John has had the pleasure of seeing it bare. It was only for a few seconds, but it was one of the nicest seconds he probably have. That's the one and the only thing that John is grateful of from Mycroft.

Sherlock's back has a nice arch going on in John's mind. Sherlock's backside rises even higher in the air. John can feel his climax coming so he slowed down his strokes. He wants to see how far his fantasy will take him. Sherlock has very fair skin and surprisingly with no scars. But that will change when John gets a hold of him in his erotic imagination.

If the gods gifted him in having a opportunity to do anything with Sherlock without being judged, he would grab a hold of him and yank him up back to his knees. The shorter man would admire the sleuth dripping cock and just wonder how wonderful it taste. John would kneel down and lick the side of his gaping filled mouth were the drill is down his neck,chest,stomach, and eventually to his cock. 6ft tall man would moan, and push his cock closer to his companion's face.

But oh no he wouldn't give the man satisfaction of release. He'll just barely flick his tongue at it before he push the man on his back, then flip him over. It would take the man by surprise, so surely he would groan. John would then force the thin man on his fours again and just stroke him leisurely like the way he is doing himself. John beats off at a comfortable but an agonising pace. He's right on the edge. He's so fucking close, but doesn't want his fantasy to end when it's just getting good.

He would take the bright gag out to see the rest of his Sherlock's mouth, and to hear him moan. Sherlock would try to talk instantly.

"John waAA-" Sherlock would have been cut short. John yanked hard at the younger man's dick to silence him from words.

John would have reply, "We're not having any of that. Unless you want to be in major discomfort then I suggest you don't say anything."He goes back to liesurely stroking the man with his right hand as he sucks his middle and ring finger that are on his left hand.

This is a little too much for John to handle. His breathing has become shallow and uneven. His strokes has become faster and his balls begin to tighten up. He'll be coming any second now. "Fuck!" He say to himself. He strokes even faster now. He lubricates his cock with the sweat on his hands and the bountiful amount of precum. He gives himself a few good strokes from head to base and then

"John, you have a visitor!" interven.

"ARGH. WHAT THE HELL!" The startled man exclaimed as he descend to the floor.

"Are you okay sweetie, did I frighten you?"the worried one asked,prying through the doorway.

"No..no just woken me up that's all." John said as he quickly pulled his pants up to hide his previous excitement. " Who wants me?"

"The older Holmes" replied in a dreary manner.

"Shit," John said quietly to himself. "Tell him to wait for 5 minutes. I need to get dress."

"Oh okay dear, is there anything else you need?"

"Oh no , Thank you though." With that decline, left the doorway of 221b to go accomplish her task. John went up stairs to his room to get rid of an embarrassing erection and to change his clothes. As he was ascending the stairs all he could do was mutter these words; Fucking Mycroft.

TBC

I put it in complete because most people go search for complete fanfics, and I really want to know what you all think of this. Please review and tell me what you like or don't like or just regular comments. Sorry for any errors that were made in this fic., and thank you all for reading it.