A/N: This will probably be the last update until after December 1st because I really have to concentrate on finishing my Johnlock Challenges Gift Exchange.

John was lost in a mess of indecision and uncertainty. When he had finally left Jim's flat, nothing had been decided between them. He knew Jim wanted him back, or at least wanted to continue having sex, but the two were not mutually exclusive. He also knew that he and Sherlock were not strictly just friends anymore. It hadn't felt like he was cheating on Sherlock since nothing was defined between them but he wondered if Sherlock would see it that way.

John had stopped at the market to get some things, most importantly a bottle of wine. He'd found that wine tended to have a calming effect on Sherlock, which would be helpful. He walked into the flat with a mixed feeling of dread and uneasiness.

"John, we have a visitor." Sherlock called out. John frowned in confusion and grabbed the wine, carrying it with him to Sherlock's bedroom.

"What, in your bedroom?" John asked dryly, wondering what kind of client would wait in Sherlock's room of all places. "Oh." John's face fell for a moment as his irritation overtook him. Then slowly it turned into a smile. This could definitely work in his favour. Sherlock was taken with Irene, perhaps she would be the prefect distraction while John figured out how to tell Sherlock about Jim.

They quietly left the room, leaving Irene to sleep. A small part of John was annoyed that she was in Sherlock's bed, one that they had shared. But then he reminded himself that he had no ground to stand on. After all, he'd spent the night in Jim's bed, he couldn't complain about Irene. Still, it felt like she was intruding on their space.

"Look, Sherlock, if you wanted to go for it with Irene, I won't stand in your way." John whispered. Even though the door was closed and they were out in the hallway, John didn't want to wake her just yet.

"Go for it?" Sherlock asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"You know, if you were interested in her. I know there's something between you two. It's obvious she's into you so…"

"How very generous of you John. Really, to step aside and let me have sex with Irene. Maybe you should change your career to being a matchmaker, you're so splendid at it." Sherlock replied sarcastically.

"Okay, there's no need to take the piss. I'm merely saying that if you both decided to be together, you don't have to worry about me."

"And this selfless decision of yours has nothing to do with the fact that you had sex with Moriarty." Sherlock hissed angrily.

"How did you –"

Sherlock reached forward and yanked John's collar down. John winced, having forgotten that Jim had marked his neck the night before. "Don't insult my intelligence John, it would be foolish of you. The mark is too big to have come from a woman and you're not currently with anyone, I would know. Also, by a happy coincidence, this mark on your neck just happens to coincide with the return of a certain consulting criminal. Imagine that."

"Alright, you've made your point…Sherlock!" John shouted, unable to contain himself, as Sherlock launched himself at John's neck and began sucking the exact same spot. "Oh fuck, what are you doing?"

John twisted his fingers in Sherlock's hair as his flatmate ravished his neck. The skin was already sensitive from the bruise already adorning his neck, which made everything Sherlock did heightened.

When he was satisfied, Sherlock switched to the other side and began sucking and biting a spot even higher on John's neck. John had a feeling that he was going to be littered with lovebites for a while. His cock was rapidly showing interest and he couldn't help the tiny minute thrusts of his hips, searching for some relief.

"Sherlock." John half whined, half moaned, wrapping one leg around Sherlock's body and pulling him closer.

"How dare you?" Sherlock growled against John's ear as he quickly moved to unfasten John's trousers. "How could you let him touch you after everything he's done? After the hell he put you through? How could you forgive him so easily, let him manipulate you back into his bed?"

"He didn't – oh fuck – he didn't manipulate –" John couldn't finish a single coherent thought as Sherlock dropped to his knees in front of him. He couldn't look away as those perfect lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Sherlock slid down slowly and then back up while John had to grip Sherlock's shoulders just to keep from falling over.

Sherlock pulled off and began stroking John vigorously to the point where it was difficult to pay attention because it felt so good. Sherlock's spit made everything smoother and John was falling apart rapidly.

"And then you offer me to Irene as if you're doing me some kind of favour?" Sherlock snarled but didn't let up. John impending orgasm was fast approaching.

"I just thought – oh shit – buggering fuck – you wanted her."

"There was more on that phone than just dirty pictures. I have not figured out Irene's game yet and until I do, I will not be content."

"But it's more than that, isn't it." John whimpered as Sherlock took him back into his mouth. "Fifty-seven texts, that's not nothing."

Sherlock once again switched his mouth for his hand, giving John no rest from the pleasure he was evoking. "Once again, your observational skills are astounding John." Sherlock smirked.

"You're fascinated by her." John argued and then gasped as Sherlock began tonguing his balls.

"And you automatically think that means I want to have sex with her?"

"I think she's that good." John countered. "I think she's someone who could sell ice to an Eskimo and she could certainly sell you on sex."

"You underestimate me."

"You underestimate her. After all, she's beaten you once before." John reminded him and then yelped in surprise as Sherlock bit the crease of his hip.

"If I was attracted to Irene, why would I need your permission to fuck her?" Sherlock inquired, guiding John back into his mouth to finish him off.

"Oh god." John moaned as his body wracked with orgasm and he came into Sherlock's eager mouth. John slumped down, sliding along the wall, until he was sitting on the hallway floor. It took him a moment to get his breath back. "Sherlock, all I meant was that if you finally found someone you wanted to be with, wholly, I want that for you."

"Because you've found someone else and if I do as well, you don't have to feel guilty about it." Sherlock translated.

"That's not –"

"Sorry to interrupt boys." At some point in the conversation – and John really hoped it was after the sex – Irene had emerged from the bedroom. "We have things to discuss."

"Right, I need tea." John pulled up his trousers and went into the kitchen, leaving Sherlock and Irene to work things out for themselves.

John needed to get away; get out of the flat and away from that woman. Sherlock could deny it all he wanted but John knew attraction when he saw it. God, the way they flirted with each other, it made John nauseous.

Jim had sneakily programmed his new number into John's phone, probably when he was passed out drunk. John opened a new text message and typed out a message as quickly as his two thumbs would let him.

Need to be distracted. You up for the job?

And how will you repay me?

Sexual favours?

That's already implied by the distracting bit.

Well, what do you want?

Dinner.

That's all?

For now.

Done.

Jim texted him an address and John made his way there quickly. The more time spent alone meant more time thinking about Sherlock and Irene, which was not how he wanted to be spending his time. He was fairly certain Irene was going to make her move soon, proposition Sherlock, and John didn't want to be around to witness it. Especially not if Sherlock said yes.

The address ended up leading him to a hotel. John checked to make sure he'd gotten it right but this was definitely the address Jim had sent. Shrugging to himself, he walked inside and found the first floor, besides being a lobby, was a very nice looking restaurant and bar. John suddenly felt wildly underdressed.

He walked over to the Maitre D and inquired whether Jim was there yet. Right after he'd finished asking, he recognized a dark head of hair sitting in the corner. He thanked the hostess and went to join him. He noticed he got a few glances for his outfit but he couldn't do anything about it now.

"Hi." John said when he sat down in the empty chair across from Jim.

"You took your time." Jim said, running his finger in a circle over the rim of his wine glass.

"Sorry."

"And you're wearing that." Jim frowned at his outfit.

"Well when I texted you, I didn't know it was going to result in dinner at an expensive restaurant." John argued, grabbing for the pint Jim had ordered for him and taking a large gulp. Somehow it made him feel even more out of place, like some kind of uncultured oaf.

"Just what were you expecting?"

"Honestly, sex at your place and maybe getting Chinese takeaway." John responded with a smirk.

"Not this time." Jim leaned forward a bit. "We did the whole sneaking around shite last time."

"So you want to what…date?" John blinked a bit disbelievingly at the man across the table.

"If you're amendable." Jim answered, raising his wine glass to his lips and taking a sip.

"Why now?" John shook his head. "You always insisted we weren't dating."

"Nine months away gives a bloke a lot of time to think, reprioritize." Jim's voice got low, causing John to lean forward as well. "Make him think about what's really important."

Jim's eyes were dark and intense as he stared at John. John licked his lips, unsure how to respond. They were interrupted by their waiter, who took their orders and promptly left, leaving them alone once again.

"I told you once that I wanted to own you, that hasn't changed. The difference is, I went about it all wrong last time. I'm not going to fuck it up again."

"Jim, I…there's a problem with your brilliant new plan. I don't know if I can do that. I know we had sex but now you want to jump into a relationship? You just came back from the dead, I have no idea where you've been for the past nine months. You come back and immediately start playing games, manipulating me and playing with my head. How is this ever going to work?"

"It worked fine last time."

"Which resulted in you faking your death and both of us being miserable for almost a year. Not exactly the best example."

"But this time I'm not leaving." John made a face. "You don't believe me."

"I think it's very easy to make promises."

"I'll prove it to you." Jim said with so much conviction that John almost wanted to believe him. Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. "I booked us a room, penthouse suite, for after dinner. It's up to you whether we use it or not." He placed the key in the middle of the table. "This can just be dinner."

"So you're not after me for my body?" John joked with a grin.

Jim slowly looked up, eyes roaming over John's body before he spoke. "Not exclusively." Jim answered, returning John's grin. "But I'm trying to show you that this isn't just about sex. After we finish dinner we can go back to our separate flats until the next date."

"And if I asked if I could come home with you and just cuddle?"

Jim chuckled. "I suppose that is an option I hadn't thought of. You know I'm not much for cuddling."

John chewed his bottom lip and contemplated his options. "So either I take this key and we go upstairs and shag or I don't and we go to our separate ways."

"It's entirely up to you. I won't try to sway you either way."

"Yeah, like I don't know which outcome you're hoping for anyway." John said knowingly and eyed the key in front of him. It wasn't like if he took the key it was a promise to Jim that they would be together. After all John was still bitter and recovering from Jim's death. He didn't appreciate being lied to and being made to suffer for nothing. He knew Jim had his reasons but he still didn't want to know.

But Jim was making an effort, which was important. John couldn't just ignore what this gesture meant for them. No hiding, no sneaking around; and while John doubted they'd ever be like a normal couple, they could pretend to be like regular people.

Then John reminded himself of Sherlock and how he had reacted to seeing the lovebite. How would he react to John and Jim becoming something official? John didn't think he could give Jim an definitive answer until he figured out what the hell was going on with him and Sherlock. And he didn't feel like he could figure out what was going on with Sherlock until he knew how he felt about Jim. It was a conundrum that had John's head spinning.

The key wasn't a promise; it wasn't a ring. It was a step towards wherever he and Jim were headed. Jim was essentially leaving their future in John's hands and that was enough to cripple him with fear. If he took it and they went upstairs it didn't mean anything. If they went home and decided to make a proper go of being in a "relationship" however loosely the term applied to Jim, it wasn't a binding contract.

What it really boiled down to was whether John wanted to have sex with Jim that night. Slowly, he reached his hand forward and wrapped it around the key. A smile spread across Jim's face. He put his napkin on the table and stood up.

"Wait, what about our food?" John asked, noticing it hadn't arrived yet.

"We'll have it sent up to the room."

John rolled his eyes. "Can't we have a nice dinner? Sitting down like normal people, having a conversation as people often do?"

"We just did that." Jim flopped back down into his chair and pouted.

"Come on, twenty minutes won't kill you." John nudged Jim's foot with his own under the table.

There was one major flaw in John's "Act Like Human Beings" plan. Normal people could engage in small talk but that wasn't exactly a possibility. They couldn't talk about work because frankly he didn't want to know what evil shit Jim was currently investing in. And he seriously doubted that Jim wanted to hear about working at the surgery, giving out flu shots and wrapping broken feet.

He couldn't remember finding topics of conversation being an issue before when they had been together. What had they talked about all the time? Then again they'd never really done this sort of thing. John remembered lots and lots of sex, he didn't recall a whole lot of talking. He didn't think Jim really had any friends except maybe Moran and business contacts. All of John's small talk topics were diminishing quickly.

He couldn't talk about Sherlock, for obvious reasons, which after he'd exhausted all his options, left only one thing to talk about, even though he really didn't want to. "So how do you know Irene?"

"Irene?" Jim's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Irene Adler?" John reminded him. "The woman? She was there when you decided to tell me you were alive."

"Oh right, I forgot that." Jim frowned at his wine glass.

"You forgot?" John asked indignantly. "It was kind of an important moment or at least I thought it was."

"I didn't forget that you idiot, I meant that I forgot Irene had been there."

"Oh." John felt silly for overreacting. "So?" he prompted.

"She's a client." Jim answered vaguely and took a rather large gulp of wine.

"So you're helping her blackmail the royal family?"

"Well someone had to." Jim shrugged.

They sat in silence for a few moments. The idea that Jim was working with Irene irked him for some reason. It probably had something to do with his violent dislike of her.

"Okay, this is rubbish, let's go." John stood up, retrieving the key from his pocket.

"You're sure?" Jim cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

"Yeah, come on." John motioned with his head towards the exit. Jim didn't argue, just got to his feet and went to talk to their waiter.

John waited by the door for Jim to finish and then they both made their way upstairs to their room.

"Where's John?" Sherlock asked, finally escaping his own mind.

"He went out, a couple of hours ago." Irene answered.

Sherlock was a bit unsettled to be left alone with her, especially after what John had said. Despite what John thought, Sherlock did not want Irene in that way. He couldn't even imagine what that would be like, while he could imagine very vividly what it was like to be with John.

Something vile twisted in Sherlock's gut to think that John was most likely out with Moriarty, being seduced yet again.

"Sherlock." Irene said gently, pulling him from his reverie. "If I were to ask you to dinner and by some small chance you accepted, would it be about me or would it be about him?"

"About whom?" Sherlock asked, emphasizing the m.

"John. I can tell there's some issues going on between the two of you. And if you're going to be taking a lady out to dinner, you shouldn't be thinking about someone else." Irene clarified almost as if she was scolding him.

"John and I aren't a couple."

"That's means less than the two of you seem to think it does. After all, being a couple it just a label. Like lesbian is a label and yet here I am, asking a man to dinner. Labels are for boring, unimaginative people that need ways to fit things into boxes. We're not so simple-minded, are we Mr. Holmes?"

"If you believe I'm harboring feelings for my flatmate, why would you want to have dinner with me?" Sherlock challenged, wondering if Irene would back down. She moved out of her chair to kneel in front of him. It seemed as if she wasn't dissuaded in the slightest.

"Because there could be a chance I misread the situation. Or considering the fact that I'm almost positive John is current off having dinner with Jim Moriarty, perhaps you'd like a little dinner of your own." She reached forward and took his hand.

"Why would I want dinner if I'm not hungry?"

John was relieved when they got to the room. They were much better at sex than they would ever be at polite conversation. Jim went into the bathroom and John got busy undressing. The room was as nice as John had been expecting, a large king bed in the center on a slightly raised platform. There was a sofa, a desk, a telly, most everything one would expect in a hotel room except more expensive.

John sat on the edge of the bed, completely naked, and waited for Jim. He felt a sort of nervous anticipation that was quelling his uneasiness. If he and Jim couldn't make it through one meal without running out of conversation topics, how was this ever going to work?

Jim emerged from the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel and then threw it over his shoulder back into the bathroom. He made his way over and stood in between John's legs, raising his hand and running his fingers through John's hair.

"Have you noticed that we have absolutely nothing in common?" John asked, beginning to slowly divest his lover.

"That's not true."

"Fine, name something."

"We both like guns…and sex. It's strange the two haven't coincided yet. It's a travesty really."

"I'm being serious." John chastised as he undid Jim's tie and pulled it off.

"So am I, how have we never done any gun play with all the sex we've had?" Jim asked, slipping his suit jacket off and letting it fall to the floor.

"Well we've got to save something for the honeymoon."

Jim's eyebrows were raised so high they had practically become a part of his hairline, his large brown eyes comically large in shock.

"Joking, that was a joke." John backtracked quickly before Jim got any ideas. "Anything else?"

"I like to commit crimes, you like to solve crimes."

"Which doesn't count as something we have in common at all. In fact we're on complete opposite sides of that spectrum."

"We both like action movies."

"Lots of people like action movies."

John started to unbutton Jim's shirt, kissing the skin as it was exposed inch by inch.

"You're being extremely unhelpful with this list." Jim pointed out.

"We both like tea."

"Everyone likes tea."

"Now who's being unhelpful?" John asked, getting to the final button and slipping Jim's shirt off his shoulders. He ran his hands down Jim's torso and then got to work on his trousers.

"I think being with someone who is agreeable all the time is boring anyway. I'd rather disagree about everything and then have really hot hate sex."

"It doesn't bother you that we basically have nothing to talk about?" John inquired, pull Jim's trousers down to his knees. He lowered his head and began to mouth Jim's cock through his tight black underwear. Jim hissed and tightened his grip on John's hair.

"We're talking right now."

"We're talking about the fact that we have nothing to talk about." John shot back, pushing Jim's pants down until both them and his trousers were around his ankles.

"Next time we go to dinner, if I feel a lull in the conversation, I'll be sure to bring up some topics for conversation." Jim stepped out of the rest of his clothes and crawled onto the bed.

"Such as?"

"The weather."

John snorted and let Jim push him down onto the sheets. He brought his hands up and ran them down Jim's back until he reached his arse, giving it a playful squeeze.

"Politics. Religion."

"Those are considered taboo talking points."

"Art, music, food."

"Better."

They kissed slowly, Jim's tongue taking its time coaxing John's mouth open. His hands made their way up John's arms, pinning his wrists above his head. "You know, I really don't care what we talk about. I would talk about the most menial thing if I meant having the pleasure of your company."

"Wow, that was cheesy." John laughed and Jim bit his neck in retaliation. "Next thing I know you'll be writing me poems."

"I thought you were the one who liked writing poems to your dates."

"Seriously, is there anyone who doesn't hack into my email?" John asked indignantly.

"Let's see. How shall I serenade you? Roses are red, violets are blue, I love your cock, so put it in my mouth."

"And you have the gall to offend my poetry?"

"It was sincere!"

John giggled until Jim captured his lips again to quiet him. They rolled around the bed, fighting over who was on top, while being sure to grind their hips together. During the struggle, John managed to grab Jim's shirt off the floor and while Jim was preoccupied with sucking John, he managed to tie Jim to the headboard.

"Now that you've got me, Dr. Watson, what are you going to do to me?" Jim asked sensually, his eyes dark as he waited.

"Whatever…I…want." John answered, licking first one nipple, then the other before kissing Jim deeply. John shuffled forward until he was straddling Jim's stomach and began teasing Jim's nipples. Jim started writhing against the sheets, fighting against his bonds.

"Johnny." Jim whined, thrusting his hips up, looking for some relief.

"Lubricant?" John asked, licking both his thumbs and circling Jim's nipples relentlessly.

"Drawer, in the drawer." Jim cried out desperately.

John crawled up the bed until he could reach into the bedside table. It appeared Jim had gotten it fully stocked. John reached in and pulled out a plug. "Planning on using this on me, were you?" he asked, dropping it onto the bed.

"Just keeping my options open." Jim shrugged as best he could while his hands were tied over his head.

"Naturally." John nodded and grabbed some lubricant.

Coating his fingers, he teased Jim's hole with light touches that made Jim jerk in surprise. When he had finally inserted the first finger, he threw Jim's legs over his shoulders and took his prick into his mouth. He sucked him gently at first, hardly any suction at all. As each finger was added, John sucked harder and deeper, adding brushes of his fingers against Jim's prostate.

"Oh fuck Johnny. Fucking fuck." Jim moaned, trying to push his hips up but didn't have any leverage in his current position. He was completely at John's mercy and his orgasm was fast approaching. "Oh Christ. Buggering shit. Oh God Johnny, Johnny JOOHHNN." Jim hollered John's name in one long stream as he came.

John used Jim's momentary distraction to ease his fingers out and push the plug in. By the time Jim seemed to come back to himself, the plug was already seated deep inside him.

"Jesus Christ John." Jim lowered his legs off of John's shoulders, looking somewhat bewildered. "That was something else."

"We're not done yet." John informed him.

Jim shifted and finally seemed to notice the plug inside him. "What are you doing?"

"Well it's the funniest thing. I saw this tiny little remote in the drawer and though maybe this was one of the ones that vibrates."

"You wouldn't." Jim's eyes widened in surprise.

"I remembered how sensitive your nipples were." To demonstrate his point, John ran his hands up and down Jim's chest, being certain to brush over his nipples every time. "I also remember how easily you can get it up again. I intend to make you come at least three times tonight. Round one is over, its time for round two." John said and flipped the switch on the remote.

Sherlock had been calling John for hours. He either had his phone on silent or he simply wasn't picking up. After everything that had happened with Irene and his brother, all Sherlock wanted was some affection from John. Maybe to curl up in bed and forget about the whole rotten night.

Even though he had managed to win, the victory felt hollow. John would be glad to know that Irene was out of their lives for good.

Sherlock grabbed his violin and began to play, prepared to stay up until John decided to come home.

John slid into Jim's tired, stretched body and began to thrust, finally getting some friction on his aching cock. He'd brought Jim off by using the vibrator and putting their cocks together to wank simultaneously. It hadn't taken Jim long at all to get hard again and then come again.

Jim was sweaty and tired but John wasn't quite done yet. He grabbed the knot of Jim's restraints and began fucking into him as hard as possible. Jim was hardly coherent anymore, babbling and moaning uncontrollably, noise just continually streaming out of his mouth.

John knew this wasn't going to last long. He'd been hard for too long and just really needed to come. Jim was incredibly starting to get hard again after John had taken the time to feed him and get him water after their second time. He'd also taken the time to clean Jim's come stained body.

It felt too good, so slippery that John could fuck as fast as he liked and still it felt incredibly tight. His orgasm was fast approaching and he couldn't stop it. He wrapped his hand around Jim's cock and began to pump it quickly. Jim threw his head back against the pillow and groaned loudly.

John felt his orgasm hovering so he slammed as hard and as deep as he could into Jim's body, watching as Jim came for a third time and John followed. When he was finished he collapsed onto Jim and managed to untie him, gently massaging his wrists.

"Fuck Johnny, you should come with a warning label." Jim said, slightly out of breath. "I don't think I've ever been fucked so well in all my life."

"You're welcome." John said with a chuckle.

Someone's phone went off. "That's mine." Jim said, muffled as he buried his face in John's neck.

"Then go get it."

"Can't move." Jim shook his head minutely. "My legs have turned to jelly."

"Fine." John managed to crawl to the side of the bed and route through Jim's clothes until he found his phone. Then he made his way back and held the phone against Jim's ear.

"Jim Moriarty."

John was going to listen but his own phone went off. Forcing himself to get up again, he crossed the room to where he'd left his things and fished out his phone. It was a text alert, which was one of thirty texts he'd received since dinner. There was also a whole bunch of missed calls, all from the same person. John went into the bathroom for a bit of privacy and just as he shut the door, his phone rang again.

"Sherlock, what is it?"

"John, I've been calling you for hours now. Where are you?"

"Oh nowhere. Just out." John responded, feeling guilty.

"Are you with Jim?"

"Why would you think that?" John asked defensively.

"Look, you should probably come home."

"Why Sherlock, what's wrong?"

"There's something you should know about Jim Moriarty."