AN: Next comes the inevitable... Maybe John's the one who gets off on it after all..
The cab ride to the crime scene was thankfully not too uncomfortable, despite the events of the previous hour. It seemed to John that his flatmate had either deleted everything already or simply didn't care, which brought not only a sense of great relief but also the bitter tang of irritation. Though at least the detective had found something non-destructive to occupy his time at last.
It took thirty three minutes of stifling silence before they pulled up at the crime scene - the taxi driver arching a brow at the sight of several police cars and many stripes of tape - to be immediately met with a grim faced Lestrade.
"-she found?" John caught the end of Sherlock's rapid sentence as he jogged after the two taller men (having been slightly delayed with finding the money to pay the cabbie).
"Almost four hours ago, it would seem that they took their time to ring it in..." As Greg replied, John's gaze flicked over to a rather rough looking fellow where he sat on the bonnet of one of the cars, rolling his eyes and sighing as an officer attempted to question him. "Body's over there," the DI started to gesture but Sherlock had already disappeared from his side, swirling past the aforementioned man with only an expression of detest thrown after.
"He's just excited to have a case again," John murmured to the faintly irritated man, a soft smile tugging at his own lips as he gazed after Sherlock, pushing his way past two further officers and a forensic.
Greg let out a quiet, gruff chuckle and rolled his eyes. "No need to apologise on his behalf, mate. He'd never thank you for it."
The words were received with a nod and friendly shrug as silence fell comfortably in the small underground parking area. Both men appeared perfectly comfortable in the setting, both waiting for Sherlock to find something astonishing and both watching the man intently as he was attempting to do so. It was only a few minutes, though, before Lestrade was having to move away to speak with Donovan about the case and no doubt dampen her wish to injure Sherlock in that moment.
The doctor remained and watched from a slight distance as Sherlock bent down before the body, back arching and hips thrusted backwards in John's direction. He reached out to lift the male victim's jacket out of the way of the wound but Johns attention was captured for a different reason as those already tight trousers shifted, straining further. As the detective leaned forwards more, he took a small step to one side, which only pulled the damn material tauter. His friend was left to absently wonder where the man's coat was and why he even bothered with it anyway when everything seemed so much better without.
John's breath hitched in his throat as he stared unashamed at Sherlock's arse, tongue flicking out to moisten his lower lip as they parted. His imagination was begging for release, fingers twitching and almost yearning to move forwards and touch even as his heart pounded.
It was only when a snigger and tut of disgust in the distance drifted through that John rushed back to himself, mouth snapping shut and a blush instantly rising to dust his cheeks. Breath held, he had to reach down and shift his now tight and visibly tented trousers, though he knew it was far too late.
Shit.
They were all staring. Donovan and those which Sherlock had previously pushed past were now stood in a group, glances of revolt thrown between John and his detective. Lestrade remained to one side with raised brows, clear mortification painting his own face in sympathy. One officer split the moment by slipping a five pound note to the forensic.
John couldn't seem to remember how to move, his entire face flushing a deep red as he desperately willed his erection to go away before Sherlock noticed. Again. Twice in one day, as though his body itself wished imminent doom upon him. The weight of many gazes could still be felt upon his body when the doctor shifted, finally moving to tug his jumper down and pray that some hole would suddenly open and swallow him up.
It was a clear sign that he was going to hell when his first thought was that he hoped it was Sherlock's.