Who wants to read about threesomes? I know what you like... Enjoy!


After the Great Game Ch 3

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade knocked on the door of 221B Baker Street. It was late, nearly ten o'clock at night, but the case was stumping him and he needed Sherlock's eyes and brain. The rest of him isn't half bad either. So beautiful. So unattainable.

Lestrade knew from long experience with Sherlock that he was asexual, though John's arrival in Sherlock's flat seemed to have thrown some doubt on the issue. But John always said very loudly and repeatedly that he wasn't gay and they weren't a couple. Lestrade still hadn't figured out if this was the truth or John "protesting too much". Either way, he still couldn't help torturing himself with vain thoughts of what he so desperately wished could one day be. So he had packed up all the photos of the crime scene and brought them with him. Sherlock didn't sleep much so he would probably be awake and wanting more data anyway.

Mrs Hudson opened the door. "Inspector! What an unexpected surprise!" She dropped her voice. "I'm so glad to see you. I heard yelling from the flat earlier and I think the boys are having a bit of a row. I thought I heard something breaking, then it all went very quiet. I do hope nothing bad has happened." She was wringing her hands with distress.

"Never fear, Mrs Hudson. Whatever it is probably just needs a calm third person to sort it all out. Sherlock can get pretty annoying, I'm surprised John hasn't found a reason to punch him prior to this."

Lestrade climbed the internal stairs to the living room and tapped on the door. To his surprise it swung open easily under his hand. At first he thought the room was empty, except for the violin which appeared to have been smashed across the corner of the coffee table. Oh dear, John must have been very upset to break Sherlock's violin! Trouble in paradise? Possibly creating an opening…?

Then he saw Sherlock's head and shoulders. For some reason he appeared to be sitting on the floor in front of the fire. The coffee table blocked the rest of him from view, though Lestrade also noted John's jumper thrown down on the table itself so John must be around here somewhere, damn the luck.

"Please excuse me Lestrade, I'm afraid I can't get up at the moment," said Sherlock very civilly. "Did you get some more information relevant to my case?"

"Your case?" retorted Lestrade. "Well, not really. I brought around all the pictures of the crime scene though. I thought it would help you to see them."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "If there is no new evidence then what do you expect me to do for you?" He gestured irritably for Lestrade to come closer and put the photos on the coffee table where he could see them without getting up. The fingers of his right hand glistened oddly in the firelight. Was his hand wet? And what was he doing with his left hand anyway? He was making little stroking motions, as if he was rubbing his left hand up and down on the rug.

Lestrade leaned over the coffee table to see what Sherlock was doing and was struck totally and completely dumb. Oh. My. Fucking. God.

John Watson was lying naked on the rug with his arm thrown over his bright red face, and Sherlock bloody Holmes was calmly buggering him with a dildo while talking to Lestrade! John's cock was bright red and angry-looking, clearly they had been at it for a while. And it was wet. Oh God, was that John's semen on Sherlock's fingers that he was casually holding out for the photos?

Sherlock seemed annoyed. He was obviously repeating something he had just said that Lestrade had missed in his open-mouthed shock. "I said, what do you expect me to do for you?"

For one brilliant, crazed, incredible moment Lestrade thought Sherlock was offering to give him the same treatment that John was so obviously enjoying. Then with brief but profound disappointment he realized that Sherlock was referring to the case. The bloody case. As if anyone could care about a case when such a glorious, sexy, titillating tableau was being so wantonly displayed in front of him.

"I… um…" he coughed self-consciously. "As well as the photos I have the interview transcript from one of the witnesses and I thought you should see it. But if this isn't a good time…"

Sherlock brightened up immediately. "Not at all! This is excellent! I've been waiting for that. Nothing like an eyewitness account. Sit down and tell me all about it."

Lestrade's eyes widened and John gave an audible groan from the floor. It wasn't clear if the groan was one of pleasure or of supreme embarrassment.

"Now, now, John. Don't be silly. You know I can multitask very well. You won't be neglected while I attend to Inspector Lestrade."

Attend to? Oh God, if only… Lestrade was uncomfortably sure his thoughts were far too evident to the master of deduction. He sat down suddenly and spread the file over his lap and pretended to look through the photos and papers.

Sherlock dropped his voice to a low and intimate rumble. "Lestrade, I have recently discovered how to recognize and satisfy sexual needs. If you have a need that I can meet, we can do that too while we talk about the case. John here can budge over a bit and if you lie down next to him I think I can reach both of you at the same time." Sherlock said this like it was the most normal suggestion in the world, and not in the slightest bit like some insane fantasy come true.

"Er, but what about John?" Lestrade was dying to throw himself down on the floor and ask Sherlock to touch him, but he knew that John and Sherlock had been in a relationship first and after his wife cheating on him he knew he would never inflict that on anyone else.

"John thinks you're cute. Don't you John?" Sherlock replied calmly.

John finally removed the arm from in front of his face in order to glare at Sherlock. "How the hell did you know that? Oh, never mind. You probably deduced it from how much jam I put on my toast the day after we first met or some such thing."

"Not at all," said Sherlock. "And are you trying to deny the fact that you have always thought Lestrade was cute, and closer in age to yourself than I am? That you would welcome his help with keeping me in line?"

John's mouth dropped open, and Lestrade was sure he looked equally gobsmacked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at both of them. "You are both so obvious, don't look so surprised! John, tell Lestrade to take his trousers off and lie down and start talking about my case!"

John's eyes met Lestrade's and for a moment there was a mutual camaraderie between them. Sherlock was a handful and it would take the two of them together to keep him from being bored. John shrugged and said, "You heard the man. You better do what he says or he'll stop having sex with both of us in order to run after the eyewitness!"

Lestrade snorted, and started removing his trousers. John wriggled a little closer to the fire and Sherlock shoved the coffee table a bit further away, creating just enough space for Lestrade to lie down. It was warm here in front of the fire – or was that embarrassment heating his cheeks? His life had contained mostly vanilla sex up to now, apart from a few experimental encounters at his boys' school which he didn't really "count" as part of his sexual history.

But then Sherlock reached out with his already wet right hand and started rubbing little circles on Lestrade's pants, and he could feel his erection swelling up instantly. Unbelievable, those long delicate fingers. Violinist's fingers, and they were just as clever as he had always imagined they would be. A groan issued from his throat without his consent, and he found himself flat on his back as his arms suddenly gave way.

"Now, tell me about the witness interview," said Sherlock, not stopping the wonderful things he was doing with his hands.

"Um, well, she remembers… oh God, that's nice… she saw… uh," Lestrade was having trouble concentrating. Well, not exactly, he was just having trouble concentrating on the case. His concentration on the sensations Sherlock was creating in his body was complete.

"She said he was wearing… umm… jeans…" Lestrade and John were panting together as Sherlock worked them simultaneously. John suddenly rolled over and threw one arm and leg over Greg and started nuzzling along the side of his neck. This did not help his concentration at all.

"John! I need to hear about the eyewitness testimony and you are distracting the Inspector."

"Mmm, wanted more kissing. You don't do enough kissing." John was mumbling.

Lestrade could feel his brain melting as John's kisses and hands were all over his upper body while Sherlock steadily teased his erection. He was not going to last long at all.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh please, I need to know how tall the suspect was! Tell me that, not about his bloody clothing. Honestly, your minds only contain a few facts, how hard is it to give me the few that matter?"

Lestrade pulled himself together through the haze of lust and excitement. He was kissing John. John's animated face translated into a lovely responsive kisser. He could have come just from this if Sherlock would just shut up. He had always known that Sherlock was an annoying and excessive talker, but this was too much. Conducting witness interviews during sex with two people?

"I… uh, just like that… I think she said six foot tall."

Lestrade and John both groaned in disappointment as Sherlock leapt up off the floor and started rummaging excitedly through the file on the table.

"That's it! Of course, I should have realized! He needed to be tall enough to see in the window!" Sherlock found the crime scene photo he was looking for and held it up triumphantly. "Lestrade, go arrest the victim's boyfriend!"

"What, now?" Lestrade was pretty sure he couldn't get up off the floor with John sprawled all over him, not to mention that he did not feel in any way inclined to change the situation. John mumbled a protest and continued kissing his way across Lestrade's chest.

"Of course now!" Sherlock retorted. "I've solved the case, and if we don't grab him right away he could leave the country!"

Lestrade sighed. "Not now Sherlock, I'm off duty. I'll send a message to Dimmock." And besides, he added to himself, I'm about to get off with John. Shame to waste all that preparation.

Sherlock snorted, "I suppose that will do. I've done all the work and I suppose Dimmock can be trusted to carry out a simple arrest." He flounced out of the room, then returned to stick his head around the door-frame. "By the way, John doesn't know it but he loves being the bottom. Inspector Lestrade, you should top." Then he winked and disappeared again.

John still had his eyes closed and was gently tonguing Greg's right nipple. "You heard the man," he whispered. "Come here."

"Oh God, yes." Greg rolled John over onto his back with himself on top. He removed the dildo which Sherlock had abandoned and snorted at the size of it. "What was he thinking? Who wants a ten centimetre dildo, for God's sake?"

John giggled. "I know, but I didn't want to break it to him. Now come here and fill me properly."

Greg sat back on his heels and pulled John forward into his lap. John obligingly wrapped his legs around Greg's waist and pulled their bodies closer together. Greg reached down and adjusted himself, then slid John another few centimetres forward and onto his erection. They both sighed with satisfaction as Greg's full length was sheathed in John's body.

"Oh yes, just like that," John groaned. "Don't tease me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Greg returned, wrapping his hand around John's cock and pumping it slowly in time with the movement of his hips. John gasped and jerked himself upright in Greg's lap. Greg groaned as the shift in position drove him deeper into John's heated body.

"Now," John grunted, "Fuck me hard, now… oh, please…"

Greg let himself go and snapped his hips forward, thrusting into John, taking him as deeply as he could. It only took four long delicious strokes before John was clawing his back and panting in his ear and covering them both with his ejaculate. The contractions of his internal muscles sent Greg in turn into an irresistible climax as he gasped and clutched John to himself.

The two of them sank down onto the rug in front of the fire, spent and sticky. Them Sherlock stuck his head back around the door frame. "I heard that you know."

"You started it." John snapped without opening his eyes. "Tease. Greg was just finishing it."

Sherlock snorted. "Not that. The "ten centimetres" comment. I was just going easy on you. Next time you can see what else I've got in my box." Then his curly head disappeared again.

"Do I want to know?" Greg mumbled.

"Probably not." John sighed. "You know the bastard is more excited about solving his case than the fact that you and I were shagging."

Greg shrugged. "I'm not surprised." He looked over at John speculatively. "Feel like another go around? You can top this time if you like."

John grinned. "Sure. Let's lock the door first though."


I think there might be one more chapter to this... Reviews, ConCrit and requests all very acceptable please, and thank you!