After a few false starts John finally managed to get his key in the door as he stumbled over the threshold of 221b. The hallway was almost pitch black but even in his drunken state John was able to navigate his way up the seventeen steps to the flat he shared with Sherlock. He made it almost to the top without incident until he tripped on the last few steps and staggered into the door frame.
"Get a hold off yourself Watson," he giggled, "You're a bloody military man!"
The front door seemed to be making much more noise than it usually did as he pushed it open.
"Shhhhhh Mr. Door, you'll wake up Detective Boyfriend. Or Shamrock. Detective Boyfriend Shirley Shamrock!" He snorted as he shut the door behind him.
The living room was lit only by the eerie green glow coming from the muted television in the corner. Obviously it would have taken too much effort for Sherlock to turn the television off before he went to bed. After towing off his shoes and hanging his coat up behind the door John wavered into the kitchen and started scavenging for some food. Since John had discovered the wonders of online shopping the fridge of 221B was always fully stocked. This came in handy when John was trying to wrestle some food down a certain consulting detective's throat. However on this occasion all he could find in the fridge was a block of cheese, a bag of mouldy carrots and a dubious looking container which John really didn't want to know the contents of right at this moment in time. Muttering intermittently to himself, John began opening the cupboards to try and track down some food. It wasn't until he had been digging around in the plate cupboard for a good five minutes that he spied Sherlock's left over plate of Shepherd's Pie that had been helpfully dumped on the kitchen counter, presumably for the kitchen elves to clean away. There was a good wodge of it left so John ate it cold straight form the plate, thinking smugly that he wouldn't have to listen to Sherlock lecture him about 'cross contamination of germ particles' or some other scientific nonsense which John didn't care about because he was a bit pissed and hungry. After he finished John put the plate into the sink and burped loudly. The niggling feeling in the bottom of his stomach that had started since the cab ride home with Lestrade was back.
Anderson.
John knew he was the type of person that was prone to worrying unnecessarily, especially when it came to Sherlock, but he just couldn't shake this feeling of unease. He knew better than to just barge up to Sherlock and ask him if Anderson had felt him up at a crime scene or something. Sherlock was as impenetrable as Fort Knox when it came to anything about his private life. He was going to have to play this one very carefully if he wanted to get any form of answer. He wasn't sure if Sherlock was even still awake, it was well past one in the morning, but he didn't feel like he could go to sleep just yet.
Crossing into the darkened sitting room and flung himself down on the sofa and immediately tried to wriggle himself around into a more comfortable position. For some reason it felt oddly lumpy and more uncomfortable than normal. Perhaps it was time for them to get a new one; lord knows how long Mrs Hudson had had this one. He sat there in silence with only the loud ticking of the clock for company as he thought about how to approach the Anderson topic with Sherlock. It was hard enough getting personal information out of Sherlock at the best of times let alone when he was asking if the detective had been felt up by a foppish oaf masquerading as a forensic officer. The silence around him was almost deafening until…
"I don't wish for you to take offence John but you are rather heavy. Might I suggest that you go and sit in the armchair instead of on top of me?"
"JESUS BLOODY CHRIST!" John screamed as he leapt up from the sofa like a cat that had been electrocuted.
Sherlock, who had presumably been sleeping on the sofa in the dark, disentangled himself from underneath the sofa throw and turned on the sitting room lamp.
"SHERLOCK? What the bloody hell have I told you about creeping about like that?" John gasped as he clutched his hand to his chest.
"I wasn't creeping about; I was sleeping until you came and sat on me. This is what happens when you binge brink John; you lose all sense of perception," Sherlock grumped as John had an embolism at the other end of the sofa.
"I should get you a bell or something, so I know when you're about to creep up on me like that," John gasped as he collapsed back down on the sofa.
"I thought we just established I wasn't creeping; I was sleeping. Do try and pay attention John," Sherlock said as he clambered over John and sat straight in his lap, his legs either side of John's thighs and his head resting on Johns shoulder.
"Hello to you too," John said as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist.
"You smell like Lestrade and beer," Sherlock said.
"Thanks," John deadpanned.
Sherlock's responsive huff caused the hairs on John's neck to prickle as his warm breath hit John's skin. They lay there in silence for a while and John mulled over weather this was the right time to broach the Anderson issue. It was guaranteed to be a mood wrecker though, Sherlock seemed to be in a peaceful frame of mind and John really didn't want to spoil that.
"Did you make friends?" Sherlock asked suddenly and John couldn't help but smile that such a childlike question would come from a genius like Sherlock.
"Sort of I suppose. I mean they're nice people and everything but I did find the evening rather lacking in the excitement area," John said as he moved his hand down and started to rub his thumb along Sherlock's cheek and jawline, "I would much rather have spent the evening with you anyway. What did you get up to in the end?"
"Bath," murmured Sherlock as he shifted his weight around in Johns lap and causing a not unwanted amount of friction on the doctor's groin. Wrapping his arms tighter around Sherlock's waist, John pulled the detective forward so there wasn't an inch of space in-between them. The sparse material of Sherlock's pyjamas meant that he could feel the pleasant outline of Sherlock's cock pressed up against his stomach. A pair of thin arms wrapped around his neck as Sherlock rubbed his groin up against John.
"John," he murmured softly against John's neck.
John slid his hands down Sherlock's back and was rewarded with two nice firm handfuls of the detectives arse. He caressed both cheeks thoroughly and then slid he hands down the outside of Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock gave another sigh as John started to plant a row of firm kisses along his jawline. John took it as a good sign when a dark mop of hair suddenly flopped forward onto his shoulder and he continued to kiss his way down the detective's long, luscious neck.
"Mmmm I've waited all night to do this to you," John purred as he ran his hands along the insides of Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock nuzzled his head along the side of John's neck as John gave his cock a firm squeeze. Sherlock's penis wasn't hard yet but his body started to go limp when John began to palm him through his pyjama bottoms. John smirked smugly to himself. His own cock was straining painfully against his trousers, begging for it to be released.
"Shall we move into the bedroom?" John purred as he cradled Sherlock's balls.
Silence.
"Sherlock?"
John didn't think a little bit of cock palming could render Sherlock speechless that quickly so he gave him a little prod in the ribs.
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock's head lolled sideways onto Johns shoulder and he emitted a loud snore. John felt his cock deflate by about three inches as he looked down to see Sherlock sleeping soundly on his shoulder. An evening of magnificent sex was officially cancelled then.
John didn't quite know what to do for the best. If he moved then he would wake Sherlock up, who despite all protests to the contrary was clearly in need of some rest, but if he stayed put he faced an awkward night's sleep on the sofa. Sherlock burrowed his head into the side of John's neck and he started making a soft, sleepy, snuffley noise that just about barged all the lust out of John's body. He removed one of his arms from around Sherlock's waist and began to run his fingers through the mop of curls that was currently tickling his neck. Sometimes he wondered how Sherlock had lasted so long without someone to look after him, not just making sure he ate and slept but giving him the basic forms of human contact that he seemed to crave. It hadn't taken John very long to work out that the rude, arrogant and cold exterior that Sherlock had was just a mask to hide his own insecurities. He was prepared to bet a good sum of money that Sherlock had probably been a bullies dream when he was a kid.
Sherlock was a nice warm weight in his lap but John's feet where starting to get a bit chilly. The sofa throw was too far away on the floor for him to reach his current position, as was the sitting room light which didn't leave him with many options for a good night's sleep. John slid his arm back around Sherlock's waist; maybe he could somehow roll them both to the side so he could stretch his legs out on the sofa? Bracing himself he gripped Sherlock tightly and leaned forward and tried to twist himself to the left. He was almost midway into his roll when Sherlock jolted awake and blinked up at him.
"What on earth are you doing John?"
"Well I was moving us into a more comfortable sleeping position until you ruined it by waking up," John huffed as he released Sherlock and resumed his previous position.
"I wasn't asleep," Sherlock mumbled indignantly as he sat himself back up in Johns lap.
"You could have fooled me with all that snoring you were doing."
"Wasn't snoring," Sherlock said as he started fumbling with the waistband of John's jeans.
"Errrmmm, what are you doing now?" asked John as he stopped Sherlock's hand from going any further south.
"You wanted to have sex," Sherlock said as he looked up at John with a slightly puzzled expression.
"Well yes I did," John said truthfully, "But it's late and you're tired".
"But you're hard." Sherlock stated mater-of-factly and brushed his palm over the bulge in at the front of John's jeans for emphasis. John bit down on his bottom lip to stop a moan escaping from him.
"I know but I can just take care of that myself later. Let's go up to bed," John said as he tried to shift himself so that Sherlock wouldn't be in contact with his groin any more.
"It's fine. I'll just lay here and you can do whatever you want," Sherlock yawned as wriggled closer into Johns lap.
"No Sherlock, we are not going to be doing that," John said firmly.
"It's fine honestly. Just try and keep the noise down," Sherlock mumbled from somewhere around Johns chest region.
"Either we do this with you awake and compliant or not at all," John said firmly.
Sherlock sat himself back up in Johns lap and gave himself a little shake and looked at John expectantly.
"I could take care of it for you," he said softly as he once again moved his hand down and rubbed his hand over John's crotch. This time John couldn't help himself as a soft groan escaped from his lips as Sherlock's palm pressed down harder on his clothed erection.
"Sherlock, do you want to have sex right now? Because I don't think you do." John said sternly as he removed Sherlock's hand from his pants and held him firmly by the wrists.
"Yes," Sherlock said somewhat unconvincingly as he had to stifle a yawn halfway through his response.
"Yeah, the yawn really convinced me that you're rearing to go," John deadpanned.
Sherlock merely rolled his eyes and tried to wrestle one of his hands free from John's grip.
"Sherlock I'm fine," John said as he tried to ignore the by now very obvious tenting in his trousers.
With both his hands out of use Sherlock decided to try a more devious tactic to getting what he wanted and started to rock his hips against John's crotch.
"Sherlock, don't," John murmured half-heartedly as Sherlock began to rock harder against him.
Sherlock smiled rather devilishly as John let go of his wrists and began to grope the detectives arse. Quick as a flash he had John's jeans unbuckled, unzipped and halfway down his thighs. John's imminent arousal was even more prominent due to the thin cotton of his boxer shorts.
Sherlock raised his eyebrows appreciatively as he trailed his fingers along the insides of John's thighs.
"Sherlock," John grunted as Sherlock's fingers began to skim the waistband of his boxer shorts.
Sherlock smirked like a cat as John's hard and heavy penis sprang out in an almost obscene manor as Sherlock finally freed him from his underwear. A gust of cold air brushed over his groin causing him to sigh loudly. Sherlock's long fingers encircled Johns straining erection and began to stroke him gently.
"Mmmmm… harder Sherlock," John whispered.
Sherlock pumped Johns cock firmly as he moved up and placed a line of butterfly kisses along John's jawline. John instinctively tilted his head back instantly so the other man would have easier access to the hollow of his neck.
"Did you miss me today?"
John let out a moan as Sherlock tightened the grip on his cock, every so often he would swipe the pad of his thumb over the head causing John to shudder with pleasure.
"Did you think about me doing this to you?"
".Yes," John gasped.
"How did you imagine it? Tell me. Did I use my hands or my mouth?"
"Hands first, then your mouth," John grunted as he tried to stop his hips from bucking up.
Sherlock suddenly let go of John's cock causing John to break out of his ravine and stare up at the detective. He flashed John a quick smirk before he slid down so he was kneeling in between Johns legs; his hand still firmly stroking Johns cock.
John bit back a moan as Sherlock's tongue darted towards the head of his penis and licked of the beads of pre-cum that had already started to gather. He maneuverer his other hand underneath so he could fondle John's balls at the same time. The sense of expectation was palatable as the detective dragged his tongue, inch by inch, from the base of John's member to the very tip. With his foreskin pulled back the sensitive glands of his penis were fully exposed and Sherlock took great delight in wetting his tongue against them. Sherlock continued to tease him by rolling his balls over in his hand whilst trailing kisses along the shaft of John's penis.
"Do you want me to use my mouth now?" Sherlock asked with mock innocence as John nodded frantically. John moaned loudly and closed his eyes in bliss as Sherlock's hot, wet mouth finally engulfed his cock. Sherlock's head bobbed up and down, his wayward curls brushing softly against Johns thighs and sending waves of sensation along his spine.
"Mmmmm…God that feels good Sherlock. Right there…just like that," John babbled and then let out another loud groan as Sherlock swirled the tip of his tongue across the head of his penis.
"Ohhh…Sherlock just a bit faster, I'm so close…. Ohhh I'm going to cum soon," John said as tried in vain to stop his hips thrusting up into Sherlock's mouth. The last thing he wanted was to choke his partner before he had a chance to finish. Sherlock reached out a long pale hand and took hold of John's hand, caressing it for a while before placing it on top of his head. John's fingers instantly fisted into the deep thicket of curls as Sherlock's head bobbed up and down in earnest.
"Ugggh…Sherlock…. I'm close…If you don't want to swa-, "the rest of John's sentence died on his lips and was replaced by a loud groan as Sherlock took him deeper into the back of his throat. John could feel a divine pleasure moving along his spine and spreading all the way down to the tips of his toes. If Sherlock just….
"SHERLOCK!" John called out his lover's name as he spilled his considerable load down the back of Sherlock's throat. The dark haired man held onto him until his cock was completely milked dry and let it fall from his mouth with a soft pop. John almost came all over again as he saw Sherlock sit back on his heels, lick off small bead of cum that had escaped from his mouth and fallen onto his bottom lip.
"Do I ever tell you how amazing you are at giving head?" John rasped as he slumped back onto the sofa.
"Constantly," Sherlock purred as he rested his head against John's bare thigh.
"Good. Now come up here and give me a kiss," John said as he tugged at Sherlock's shoulder, indicating that he should climb back up in John's lap. Sherlock hummed happily as he repositioned himself, leaned in and pressed his mouth against Johns. With a heady rush, Johns tongue skated over Sherlock's and he could taste himself in the detective's mouth. Resting one hand on the back of the detectives head, John moved his hands towards Sherlock's pyjama bottoms but the Sherlock grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together.
"Don't you want me to-, "John started but Sherlock just shook his head and snuggled into Johns lap. John held onto him for a few moments until his groin began to become uncomfortably sticky. He somehow managed to wriggle his underwear back on with Sherlock still sitting comfortably in his lap.
"Bed?"
Sherlock nodded against him.
John prodded Sherlock gently in the ribs and the lanky detective rose to his feet and held out his hand to his doctor. Hand in hand they made their way upstairs to bed, occasionally brushing up against each other and giggling as they climbed up the stairs. As they reached the bedroom John grabbed a pair of pyjama bottoms and an old tee-shirt that was slung over the back of a chair and headed towards the bathroom whilst Sherlock flopped down dramatically onto their large double bed. After brushing his teeth and giving his face a quick wash he set aside his slightly sticky underwear and shirt, pulled on his sleeping attire and switched off the light.
Making his way back into the bedroom he found Sherlock asleep and spread out on top of the covers in starfish mode, his mouth hanging open slightly. John chuckled to himself as he went to put his clothes away and turned off the main bedroom light.
"Sherlock," he said gently as he shook the sleeping man's shoulder, "Come on love, wakey wakey."
Sherlock mumbled something unintelligible but still didn't move.
"Sherlock I'm not sleeping on the floor!"
"Tired," Sherlock grumbled but he managed to open his eyes and sat up so John could pull the covers out from underneath him and slide in next to him.
"I was just resting my eyes," he mumbled against the fabric of Johns t-shirt.
"Course you were," John said as he tried not to laugh.
Sherlock yawned hugely as John grabbed the thick blanket from the end of the bed and pulled it over the top of them. It was deliciously warm and cosy but John suddenly felt very wide awake. The alcohol in his system had long since burnt off and the uneasy feeling in his stomach that had been with him since he had left the pub was making itself known again. Sherlock meanwhile had begun arranging bits of John around him until he found a comfortable sleeping position. He wriggled around a bit until his leg was hitched over John's hip and his left arm wrapped around his waist. John responded by wrapping his arm around the detective's slim waist and pulled him closer still.
"Comfy?"
"Yes."
"Good," John said as he kissed the side of Sherlock's head.
"You still smell like Lestrade," Sherlock said as he laid his head down on John's chest.
"Ohh. Sorry. I think I ended up spending more time with him than with the guys from work," John said. The mention of Lestrade's name immediately conjured up an image a drunken Anderson leering at him in the pub.
"I don't like it," came the muffled response from somewhere near his chest region.
"Well you're just going to have to put up with it until I can be arsed to get out of bed to have a shower tomorrow," John said irritably.
Sherlock's suddenly lifted his head up and looked directly at John, "You're annoyed. Why?"
"I'm not annoyed," John snapped.
Sherlock raised his eyebrows.
"Do we really have to go through the rigmarole of me explaining how you're body has completely tensed up, you're speech pattern has changed since we got into bed and that your fingers are digging into me because you're holding onto me too tight?"
John released his fingers, which admittedly had been digging into Sherlock's waist rather forcefully. He may as well get this over with.
"Anderson…. He's never touched you or anything has he?"
"Touch me? Touch me where?" Sherlock asked.
"You know… Somewhere where I would touch you," John said pointedly. Sometimes Sherlock's lack of sexual understanding really worried John.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed suddenly, "Are you asking me if I've slept with Anderson?"
"NO! No… Just…Well… he said, but I didn't think…" John babbled until Sherlock cut in.
"John, it would save us both sometime if you used complete sentences."
"It's just…. Now don't get cross with me but when I was at the pub Anderson was there and he said… well he said that he had put the moves on you and that you rejected him. I know half the stuff that comes out of his mouth is rubbish but he was just so smug about the whole thing," John groused as his hands started to curl into fists.
"Oh, I for a moment there I thought he done something interesting for once" Sherlock mused as John scowled.
"This is serious Sherlock! What did he do to you?"
"He made advances and I rejected them. End of story."
"And that's all? He didn't try and feel you up or anything did he?"
"Well if he did I've probably deleted it."
"Can't you try and remember?"
"Lestrade was there at the time I'm sure he can tell you," Sherlock said. He was getting bored with this line of questioning but it was seemingly important to John so he kept silent.
"Please Sherlock, for me? Just try and remember," John said desperately.
"Fine. Just shut up so I can think."
Sherlock screwed his face up as if he was trying to remember something unpleasant. In reality he was probably on silent for no more than a minute but it felt like an eternity to John. Finally he started speaking again.
"I remember being in the back of Lestrade's police car, Anderson attempted to engage in some form of sexual activity with me, I rebuffed his advances and then Lestrade came over and sent him home. Entirely uneventful."
"That's it? That's all you can remember?"
"Well at the time I was rather incapaticited owing to the large quantity of cocaine I had taken. Honestly John I don't see why you're making such a fuss," Sherlock snapped as he rolled away from John and pulled the duvet over his head.
"I'm not making a fuss! I'm only asking if some jumped up berk from the forensic squad felt you up in the back of a police car!" John said as he tried to unearth Sherlock's head from beneath the thick material.
"John you already stated that you had already heard the story from Lestrade so I don't see why you need to bother me with it," Sherlock snapped as he attempted to pull the blankets out of Johns grip.
"Because it happened to you, not Lestrade. I want you to tell me what happened," John said exasperatedly as Sherlock's head disappeared completely underneath the quilts.
"Sherlock I'm not having a conversation with you whilst you're hiding under a blanket," John said firmly.
"Mught foruml nodotmmm," Sherlock mumbled from beneath the thick blanket covering his head.
"Sorry, didn't quite catch that," John said.
"Mudhhyo sphybg qwoiytcfr," Sherlock repeated.
"Fine," John sighed and he gripped one edge of the blanket and burrowed underneath it.
Even in the surrounding darkness he could see Sherlock's eyebrows drawn into a frown and his bottom lip stuck out in a pout. John tried to put his hand on Sherlock's forearm but the detective flinched and pulled away from him. Clearly this was going to take some damage control on John's behalf.
"Sherlock? Look I'm sorry ok? Maybe I should have approached this whole situation differently," John said tenderly as he gently laid his hand over the top of Sherlock's.
"What are you sorry for John? Sorry for accusing me of sleeping with half of Scotland Yard or do you just find yourself pitying me because you think I've been a victim of some sort of sexual abuse?"
"When did I say you had slept with the whole of Scotland Yard?" This conversation really wasn't going the way John had hoped.
"Oh and I wasn't hiding either. I was just out your line of vision," Sherlock pouted.
"Ok fine I'll agree you weren't hiding but that still doesn't give me an explanation to why Anderson said he tried it on with you," John said.
"You just don't get it do you John?" Sherlock snapped suddenly.
"Get what? Come on Sherlock just talk to me," John said softly.
"I…Just…. I just don't understand about this whole sex thing. It's all so confusing," Sherlock muttered and John knew that it must have been very difficult for him to admit to not understanding something.
"Well that's understandable. This is all fairly new to you, it's ok to be confused by it," John said as he gently moved his arm around and rubbed the back of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock gave a little huff but he relaxed back against Johns fingers.
"I don't want to be with other people. I have no interest in touching or being touched by anyone other than you. The way you talked about Anderson and I makes me feel decidedly queasy," Sherlock said.
John was starting to feel awful, he should have been more tactful when talking about things of such an intimate nature with Sherlock. John suddenly thought how strange it must have been for Sherlock to go from having no sexual experience what so ever to suddenly being a very intimate relationship.
"I'm sorry love, maybe I should have gone about this thing a bit better" John said as he rubbed his face tiredly.
They sat there in silence for a while, John gently massaging the back of the detective's head, until Sherlock spoke again.
"Do you mind that I've never been with anyone else? That my entire sexual history and experience comprises solely of you?" Sherlock said abruptly but he still wouldn't look up at John.
"Sherlock it wouldn't matter to me if you had been with one person or a thousand people. All I care about is that you're happy. You are happy aren't you? With us I mean," John asked, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Yes," Sherlock said suddenly, and the glint in his eyes made Johns heart stop trying to beat its way out of his chest.
"Sherlock this was never about you having slept with someone else. It was about me thinking that someone had hurt you and I just couldn't stand the thought of someone doing something like that to you. I don't want to be patronising but you understand, don't you? That nobody should be touching you if you don't want them too," John stressed, he was going to drive that point home with a sledgehammer if he had too.
"Yes," Sherlock snapped.
"I just want to make sure! I know sex isn't exactly your area, or wasn't before we got involved, so If there's anything you want to tell me…," John trailed off.
"John, I can assure you that I have never been molested or 'felt up' as you so eloquently put it by Anderson or any other member of the Scotland Yard Police Force!" Sherlock had rolled over completely now, his bony spin resting against Johns forearm.
"Sherlock come here," John pleaded as Sherlock scooted further away down the other end of the bed.
"No, you've spoilt my mood now with all your ridiculous questions," Sherlock sulked as he twisted away from John.
John leant forward, seized one of the detective's ankles and pulled him back towards him.
"Please," he whispered as he stuck out his bottom lip and pouted.
"Fine. But you're still an idiot," Sherlock grumbled as he rolled back around and laid himself back beside John.
"Just so you know if Anderson or anyone tries touching you, I'll rip their fucking arms off," John growled as he suddenly pounced and pulled Sherlock into a passionate kiss.
"Good to know," Sherlock gasped as he came up for air.
"And you're ok with… the sex so far," Sherlock mumbled as he twisted his head against Johns neck to avoid looking at him.
If it had been anybody else lying in bed next to him John would have laughed out loud.
"Trust me Sherlock; I've never had better sex than I have with you. Plus you're a very quick learner," John said as he nudged Sherlock in the ribs. The corners of Sherlock's mouth twitched a little.
"I do give good head," he mused.
"That you do," John laughed as he pulled Sherlock into a hug.
They lay in silence for a long while, with John rubbing soothing circles up and down Sherlock's back.
John had almost drifted off to sleep when Sherlock's voice suddenly called out to him from the darkness.
"John?"
"Mmmm"
"John?"
"What?"
"I think Lestrade and Mycroft are engaging in sexual intercourse."
John opened his eyes very quickly; suddenly he felt wide awake. He was used to Sherlock's weird and wonderful thought pattern by now but the detective's last sentence left him completely adrift.
"What on earth would make you think that?"
"Just small things, trivial to most but the devil is in the detail John," Sherlock said matter-of-factly.
John decided it was best just continue to lay there in a state of bewilderment before he responded.
"Wait a minute; have Mycroft and Lestrade ever even met?"
"Mycroft makes it his main mission in life to infiltrate himself into the lives of anyone that I've ever come into contact with; so yes they have met. Also there was a hospital incident a few years ago… "
Hospital incident? They would most certainly be going back to that later John thought.
"That still doesn't explain why you think they're doing it."
"Doing it?"
"You know; shagging"
Sherlock face scrunched up in mild horror at John's words.
"Really John. You're not back in the schoolyard," Sherlock grumped.
"I need more data to be certain but I know how people work John. And I know Mycroft. There's something going on, of that I am sure," Sherlock said.
"Sherlock I think you're reading far too much into this."
"Right well I'm sure you know best. Good night then, Sherlock said in way that specifically implied that he thought John was being an idiot, "Don't forget that we're having sex in the morning," Sherlock said as he promptly rolled over and nestled back down against John.
Within a few minutes he began making a small snuffley noise which signalled that he had fallen back to sleep again. John, meanwhile, was left very wide awake with the mental image of Lestrade and Mycroft in some very compromising positions burned into the back of his eyeballs. Suddenly the memory of a sleek black car idling at the end of Lestrade's street as he got out of the cab popped into his mind.
"Thanks a bunch Sherlock," He muttered as he glared at the top of the sleeping man's head.
