Chapter 2

I think Sherlock's been talking while I've been out again.

I come in and what are the first words I hear? Not "hello, darling", not greetings of any kind in fact. The first words I hear after a long day at the surgery are: "-ina, it must be China! Oh, how could I have been so stupid?!"

"What are you talking about Sherlock?"

"Haven't you been listening, John?"

"I've been at work, I told you this morning! I stood directly in front of you and told you! Could you not hear?"

"I was thinking."

I sighed. "Tell me about China then, we taking a vacation?"

"We may have to, the note paper and ink, it's Chinese."

"Black Lotus?"

"Quite possibly, though there are other gangs working."

"But that doesn't make sense, why the suicides? Okay, to get rid of operatives but then why the obvious note?"

"Exactly, John, exactly! Thank goodness you're not dull."

"That's a rare compliment coming from you, Sherlock." I replied, trying to suggest 'take my trousers off as loudly as possible.

"Can't, John, working." He said resuming the all-too-well-known thinking position on the couch. Dammit, that could mean weeks.

Well, while Sherlock was 'working' I had to entertain myself. I phoned Lestrade to tell him of the developments. Wrote on my blog. Not necessarily in that order. Days passed and I went to work, got food, talked with Mrs Hudson, all the normal, hum-drum things necessary to keep Sherlock and I alive while he sat there only moving to another room if me and Mrs Hudson talked too loud. I didn't once see him go to use the loo. Perhaps he does that when I'm out.

It reached the eleventh day and I was just returning from lunch with Molly when my thoughts were interrupted by violin music echoing down the stairs.

I opened the door just as the enchanting piece finished. "Thinking over then?"

"For now, for now." He replied, laying the violin carefully back in its case.

"Come on, then, what's the story?"

"Later John, later, I-"

"But-" I attempted to interrupt only to be interrupted myself.

"John," He said, his at present cornflour blue eyes gazing directly into mine. "I'm no longer working."

"Alright, but this time you're mine" I replied, half dragging him to the bedroom, being careful to pick up his purple scarf along the way.

I stripped him and tied his hands to the bedstead, as he lay there, almost obediently, making sure my hands went all over his beautiful alabaster skin. As soon as this was done, I called out "Turn over!" As he did so, I pulled a riding crop out from under the bed, He almost squealed in shock.

"Where did you get that?!"

"I have my sources." I smiled at him and tracing the crop down his long back bone, I said, "Now do as I say, if you do, you will get a reward, if you do not you will get this..." And I whacked the crop down hard on his delightful buttocks, making him gasp.

"You like that?"

"Yeeess..." He moaned in reply.

I brought the crop down hard again. "Yes, what?!" I bawled.

"Yes, Sir." He giggled. I almost did to with the absurdity of it. Instead, I climbed on to the bed and started stroking his inner thigh with my already hard cock. I heard him moan.

"Get reward now?"

"What do you say?" I said, whisking the riding crop through his crack.

"Please, John."

"Say it again!" I said, mounting him and rubbing my cock up and down his spine. Pre-cum is going everywhere.

"Please, John!"

"One more time!" I said, half-sitting, half-crouching on his thighs making sure my fingers were completely covered in lube.

"PLEASE, JOHN!"

"YES SHERLOCK!" I bellowed, as I finally thrust my two fingers deep into my 'friend's' behind. I felt that delightful noise he made, part moan, part gasp, all Sherlock. And all because of me. After a few minutes scissoring my fingers to get him ready, I pull my hand out. I hear him whine at the loss of contact. "If you liked that," I said, "you're going to love this!" Cheesy, I realise but I was a tad distracted at the time. Now I thrust my hard cock deep into him, angle just right to hit his prostrate dead on. The moan shakes the bed. I whipped off my shirt and flung myself towards him, making sure as much of our skin was touching as possible. As I did so, I reached up and undid the scarf, releasing him from the bedstead and allowing us to writhe together.

After a couple of minutes of frantic thrusting, I could feel myself nearing the end. I was just thinking about forcing myself to hold on when I heard, and felt, Sherlock reach orgasm and let myself cum just after him, allowing me to dismount and snuggle next to him, all before we stopped panting.

"John Watson," he said, his now almost violet eyes turning towards mine. "I-" He never finishes that particular sentence,