So I'm finally updating this. I'm sorry for the delay, but I'm hoping 3 new chapters all in one go will be compensation for that. Enjoy, and don't forget to review
Sherlock heard the door of 221B clink open, and waited for the exchange between Mrs Hudson and John as the doctor made his way upstairs. However, Mrs Hudson remained silent, and the footsteps that progressed up the stairs were much slower than usual. Arriving in the doorway, John had his phone pressed against his ear, and was wearing an expression of total confusion.
"...Excuse me? I don't think...well I'm sorry to hear that but I'm sure he-well yes, but I've actually only been with him for...how did you get this number?
John listened to the rant in his ear, and padded towards the table, where Sherlock sat reading the morning's newspaper. He looked up at John and gave him a quick smile. The doctor snorted he knew he was in trouble, then.
"Sorry? No I'm not laughing at you. But surely you understand there's nothing I can do? He's not a dog, madam. I can't be with him day and night, I've only known him for neglecting..? Right. Yep. Sure. Yes, it will be dealt with. You're welcome, goodbye.
John clicked a button on his phone, then folded his arms.
"Guess who that was?
The detective smirked and carried on reading the newspaper. "I don't need to guess. Obviously it was that woman from Hampstead with the missing daughter. You know the house is fascinating, really distinct black marks-
"Yeah, I don't need details. I assume you've deduced why she called me?
Sherlock shifted in his chair and moved the paper closer to his face "Haven't the foggiest...
The doctor snorted. "Well, let me clear the mist for you. She called to tell me that last night you broke into her house, upturned her study, wandered into her bedroom, told her you needed to borrow some of her paperwork, and then left. Sound about right?
From the folds of the paper, the detective mumbled his assent.
"She then proceeded to tell me that this is my fault and that I've clearly been neglecting to, and I quote 'teach you right from wrong'. I'd like to point out that only yesterday, I sat in a meeting with you and Inspector Lestrade, where he explained that you're not supposed to search people's houses of your own accord, and you actually need a warrant. But of course she didn't want to hear that, because she's a bit busy, trying to clear up the state you left her house in."
Sherlock threw the paper down on the table. "How ungrateful. I'm on the verge of a breakthrough, and that paperwork is vital!"
"You can't just break into people's houses! You should have just got the police to deal with it.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "The Police are a bunch of morons. The only useful thing about them is their ability to arrest people, and if you think for one moment that I'm going to allow those idiots to try and find something that I found in under 20 minutes, you are mistaken.
"That's not the point, Sherlock, you're supposed to let people do their jobs. And how do you think I feel being called up by some random lady and being told that this is my fault? She accused me of neglecting you, said I'm clearly not giving you enough attention. I don't even know how she got hold of my number!
"I assume when she reported me to the police this morning, Lestrade forwarded your number to her. Our arrangement is hardly private information even Anderson knows."
John sighed, exasperated. "You can't do stuff like this anymore, it's embarrassing.
"Well I'm sorry I'm such an embarrassment to you. I'm obviously just an inconvenience to your otherwise enriched and deeply fulfilled lifestyle, and I can see that taking time out of your oh-so busy schedule to see me is proving incredibly difficult. You're simply much too overworked to even think about paying attention to anything other than oh wait, what exactly is it you do?
All this was said via the mirror that sat just above the mantelpiece, and Sherlock watched John's reaction through it, not quite confident enough to turn round and look at the actual thing.
John smiled gently to himself, then looked towards Sherlock. The smile faded.
"Strip." He said simply.
The detective paused, and turned slowly to face him. "I'm sorry-?
"Don't make me wait!" The doctor barked, settling down on his favourite part of the sofa. He watched with satisfaction as Sherlock fumbled with his buttons, a look of nervous anticipation on his face.
When he had dropped his last sock onto the pile of garments on the floor, John let him stand there awkwardly for a second, enjoying the blush that settled on the detective's cheekbones and the way his fingers and feet twitched and moved constantly as he waited to be instructed.
John stood up and took Sherlock by the hand and led him towards the far corner of the room. He gestured for the submissive to kneel, and he did so immediately. Looking up at him, John could see the recognition in Sherlock's eyes.
"Yes, it's very familiar, isn't it? You can keep your hands by your sides you're going to be here far too long to be able to keep them behind your head."
The doctor curled a fist in Sherlock's hair. "I swear to God Sherlock, I'm at breaking point, understand?"
"Yes, Sir" Sherlock half-whispered. His throat was dry and itchy and he felt hot and uncomfortable all over. He just wanted to be hurt, punished, and then forgiven. The idea of just sitting and waiting in the knowledge that John was so angry was horrible.
John released his hair and walked away, only to return a few seconds later. Not daring to turn or look, Sherlock simply felt the cold leather slide round his neck. He felt John put pressure on his head to encourage him to lean forward. A buckle was tightened and fastened at the nape of his neck, and John silently pulled Sherlock's head back up to look at him.
The black of the collar contrasted beautifully with Sherlock's creamy skin, and John smiled.
"Perfect." He said gently, before walking towards the pile of clothes on the floor and picking them up, turning to admire the view of Sherlock's muscular back, and the gentle dints of his spine right up to where the collar settled, half covered by gentle curls of hair. As he walked towards Sherlock's bedroom, he wondered vaguely whether the submissive knew what was coming, and prayed that the detective would behave, for his own sake.
