**I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it.**
He'd been dreaming about his voice. His deep, sultry voice was haunting his goddamn dreams.
"Watson!"
John spun around and stood at attention. "Sir yes sir!"
"You've been requested for a visit in Major Holmes' office. Lieutenant Moran will escort you."
Ah, just like old times.
"Yes sir," he responded instead. Moran sneered at him then turned and John followed.
They rounded the corner down the all too familiar corridor now, before John felt a firm hand on his bicep and a forearm over his chest. He couldn't stifle the oomph he stupidly let out, as he was pinned to the wall.
"What is your connection with Sherlock Holmes?" Moran spat all too close to his face.
John's body flooded with panic. "Sir?" he asked weakly.
Moran shoved him against the wall again. "Don't fuck with me, Cadet. What are you doing in there with him all the time? Why are you being favored by one of the highest ranked men on this base?"
John's eyes widened, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. "No, no, we're-"
"Lieutenant!"
Oh thank Christ.
Maybe.
Oh shit.
Sherlock strolled up the corridor, glaring daggers at Moran. "What exactly do you think you're doing with our young Dr. Watson?"
Moran immediately dropped his hold and stood at attention. John struggled to do the same as he caught his breath. Neither spoke as Major Holmes stared down Moran.
"I asked you a question, Leutienant," he spoke softly, with an extreme intensity that made John shiver.
"Just a misunderstanding, sir. Won't happen again. My apologies."
"You may want to apologize to Cadet Watson," Sherlock said coldly.
Moran shifted, paused for a moment and then turned to John. "I apologize, Cadet," he said hoarsely.
Sherlock gave him a sickening, almost evil smile. "Very good. Off you go then. Dismissed."
Moran didn't need to be told twice. "Thank you sir," could barely be heard as he took off back the way they'd come.
Sherlock's cold stare turned on John and he froze. "I-"
"Not here," Sherlock practically spat, grabbing John by the arm and dragging him down to the Major's office.
The door slammed behind them as Sherlock all but threw John into the small room.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock bit out, searching over John's face, his chest, his arms for any injuries.
The attention was too nice. Too intense. John had to look away. "I'm fine," he murmured.
"You're certainly not fine. A man had you against a wall after knocking the breath out of you. You look rattled. Was that the point?"
John furrowed his brow and looked back to those intense gray eyes. "Why would he want to rattle me?"
"Because you're associating with me. Bugger, they must know I'm here. He must be a part of all this. But why Moran? He's middle of the pact, nothing special. Why are they using him…"
It was obviously Sherlock was no longer speaking to John, so he went to sit down in his usual chair while Sherlock prattled on about vague people he'd never mentioned the names of.
Sherlock turned his back on John and began pacing. John watched that delicious arse walk away and he bit his lip hard. Jesus, he had to get it together. The late night drunken attempted booty calls were bad enough but now his sober mind was getting all kinds of twisted up in Sherlock Holmes.
"John, please tell me you aren't staring at my behind," Sherlock's voice came from across the room, his back still turned.
John flushed to the tips of his ears and stared into his lap. "What? No, I…no, I wouldn't-"
"Oh for godsake," Sherlock barked as he whirled around. "Have you heard anything new?"
John glanced up at him. "No, nothing out of the ordinary."
"Oh really? So that little show with Moran wasn't out of the ordinary?"
John's face got impossibly hotter. "He's just mad because he thinks you're favoring me."
Sherlock huffed. "Look deeper, John. There is more to it then that."
"I really don't think there is," John protested. "He's just bitter because a lower rank then him is getting special attention from a Major."
Sherlock's lips twitched. "Special attention?"
John tried to glare, but he didn't want to lose all sight of that pretty face. "Well, with the special meetings and all-"
"You're distracted," Sherlock interrupted.
"No, no, I'm-"
"You're distracted and that's why you haven't been getting any information for me. What could possibly be distracting you from simply picking up on your surroundings?"
You, you bloody bastard.
"Nothing, I'm-"
"Oh. Oh, of course," Sherlock paced again. "The drunken late-night drop-ins and all the things you say when you arrive. You need to get laid. Badly."
Was John's face just destined to be crimson for this entire conversation? "What! No, I'm-"
"And you're rather keen on me, aren't you? You like my looks, that much is clear, and we get along just fine. Well, that's settled. We need to clear your mind."
John couldn't look up. "I don't need anything. I'm fine."
"No, you're obviously not. Tonight, meet me at my barracks. We'll take care of your little problem and you'll be back to observing in no time."
The somersaults had begun tumbling around in John's belly as he tried desperately not to hope for what he thought Sherlock meant. Surely, the Major had something in mind that wasn't sex?
"Oh, yes, this will be perfect. We're going to get that stress out of you and get you back to doing the job I need from you."
John finally glanced up, mouth agape, really trying to understand what this man was saying. He must be misunderstanding. Or something. Right? No way he was saying…
"Yes, John, we're going to have sex. We're going to make all your distracting fantasies come true and get that mind back to where it belongs: on the plan."
**I do not own Sherlock or any of the characters within it.**