Sock on the Door
John Watson went home one evening to find a black sock on the doorknob. He knocked to find it locked. He shouted Sherlock's name but got no response. Forced either to wait on the stairwell or go out, he opted for the latter and went for a walk.
Meanwhile in the flat of Sherlock Holmes at 221b Baker Street . . .
"Well, Sherlock, it's nice to see you," said a shrill, rather squeaky voice.
"Moriarty," Sherlock said through gritted teeth.
Sherlock was sitting down, Professor James Moriarty in the chair opposite him holding a gun pointed at the consulting detective.
"I've been watching you." Moriarty's words seemed to linger in the air for a moment as Sherlock took a moment to ponder them.
"I know. I observe. And I get off." Sherlock's words seemed to ignite Moriarty's sex-drive because he stood up and jumped on Sherlock, kissing him and moaning.
John waited for one hour before heading back to find the sock gone.
"What the hell were you doing?"
Sherlock paused, hands clasped, "Experimenting."
John paused, shook his head as if to free himself of the naughty thoughts surfacing in there as he tried to strategically place his computer in his lap to hide the boner he got from them.
Awkward silence . . .
Sherlock broke the silence, "John what would you do if I liked a boy?"
John sat open-mouthed in shock, "Boy?" John found a part of him wishing that this "boy" were him.
"Girl!" Sherlock corrected quickly. Too quickly, thought John.
"Okay . . ." John said cautiously, "Anyhow. I've been wondering—how has your case been going?"
"Case? What case?" Ah, crap! Sherlock thought, I've spilled the beans!
He had his "investigation" of/with Moriarty from his companion by telling him that he was working on a case.
"You know. The forged bonds?" John asked, bewildered and slightly suspicious.
"Oh, yes! Of course!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Well?" John prompted.
"Um . . . it has been interesting. Very interesting," Sherlock said, a wide grin across his face.
John furrowed his brow but said nothing.
"I'll be going to the store." John got up and left.
A few minutes later Sherlock heard a knock on the door. He stripped down his briefs before opening the door. Moriarty stood, holding a condom in the air (he had tested HIV positive).
They tried to be quiet for fear of Watson's return but failed miserably.
That night John went to his lover, Detective Inspector Lestrade and they had hot, passionate sex on his desk at Scotland Yard. Donovan watched intently. So did everyone else at the offices.
