Warning: Here there be explicit sexual situations!

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything but my OCs.

Once again, Sherlock and Christine were left alone. They didn't speak to each other; Christine knew most of everything he would have to say. He was a sociopath and wouldn't have understood why any of it upset her. She could feel him watching her. It was incredibly unnerving to know that she was being observed by a bored sociopath.

"Stop it." He said suddenly, the sound of his voice making her jump.

"Stop what?"

"Worrying. It's annoying."

"Sorry…"

"Stop that as well."

"I didn't do anything!"

"You apologized again. It's-"

"Annoying. Yes, I know. I'll stop, Sherlock."

"Thank you."

Christine and Sherlock looked at each other, not quite knowing what to do. Sherlock relocated to the seat beside her, looking down at her curiously. She wanted to ask what he was doing, but was cut off by a kiss the moment she opened her mouth. In one quick movement his lips were against hers and moving gently. Christine froze for a moment, wondering what had just happened, and then began to respond and move her lips with his. Sherlock was inexperienced, but he was definitely a good kisser. He felt a hand weave its way into his dark curls; he felt a warm hand touch his chest. Even he was surprised at the response he was getting. Christine may have been with John, even loved him, but there was no question now that she felt something for Sherlock.

Of course, Christine knew that she shouldn't be allowing him to kiss her in that way and that she definitely shouldn't be enjoying it, but she couldn't help it. He tasted faintly of mint and something she thought might be cinnamon, a taste that made her shudder. She felt him inch closer and lean her back slightly; her back hit the arm of the sofa and she sighed, a pleasant feeling pulsing through her. But, Christine wasn't the only one enjoying the situation. Sherlock was doing his best to suppress the moan that had bubbled up from his chest and threatened to burst from his mouth at any moment. Christine pulled away from him and looked up into his silver-grey eyes, "This is wrong, Sherlock. If John ever found out it would break his heart. I admit that I do feel for you and I want you, but I'm with John and I love him. I don't want to hurt him, Sherlock. Wait…was this just another of your little experiments?"

Sherlock looked at her, still slightly on top of her, "I was curious. You have just proved to me what I suspected in the first place, but I'm still curious. No, I don't classify this as an experiment, Christine."

Christine began to play with his hair absentmindedly and smiled, "I don't know what you're curious about, but if I can help you out let me know."

Sherlock sniffed inwardly at the thought of asking for her help, but knew he would have to eventually. He allowed her to give him another quick kiss and leapt from the sofa and back to his chair.

Sherlock had moved just in time. John arrived home from work moments after Sherlock returned to his spot across the room. Despite what had just occurred, the detective looked flawless and unruffled. Christine shook her head and grinned; that was typical Sherlock. John didn't suspect a thing. He kissed Christine 'hello' and greeted Sherlock afterwards, plopping himself down on the sofa in the process. Christine and John talked over what had gone on that day while Sherlock watched, silently wondering if she would mention the kiss. He was certain that she wouldn't; she wasn't as stupid as he had once thought, after all. She leaned over to whisper in the doctor's ear; John seemed to like whatever it was that she had said because his eyes lit up and it was painfully obvious that he was holding himself back from dragging her up the stairs.

Sherlock was strangely quiet that evening, deep in thought. There were so many things he wanted to understand about the woman in John's arms that he couldn't without her help. The fact that she was in a relationship with John complicated matters; he did not want to drive away his only friend. Sherlock watched Christine snuggled into John, remembering every detail of what they had done. He could recall perfectly the softness of her lips and the slight taste of vanilla, the warmth of her hand on his chest and the feeling of her fingertips massaging his scalp. It was one of the most pleasant feelings Sherlock Holmes had experienced in his lifetime and he secretly wanted to feel it again.

John had a strange feeling in his gut that told him something was wrong. Sherlock was acting the same as he always did, but he was often caught staring at the woman John cared so much for. John didn't really think that Sherlock would do anything, but he never knew. The doctor eventually went upstairs, Christine not far behind. Even though she had wanted to go up to bed for a while, but she hadn't wanted to go up without John; that night she wouldn't have liked his bed without him in it. The moment the door to his bedroom was closed, she had him up against the door, lips against his. Her kisses were rough and needy. John grinned inwardly, thoroughly enjoying his situation.

Sherlock ignored the sounds coming from above him. He was busy going over the events of that day in his mind. He could hear Christine, but only just. The sounds irritated him slightly, but he did not want to admit jealousy. That seemed to be above him. Up in the bedroom, it was all Christine could do not to call out for Sherlock. John Watson was a fantastic lover and she did truly love him, but tonight was the detective's fault. Sherlock was the one who had gotten her so hot and bothered. John made her feel great in every way he possibly could, but now even she was curious. She could vividly remember when she'd said Sherlock would get curious he remembered as well, positively hating that she had been right. Christine could feel John shaking above her and hear his ragged breathing. The two sounds helped snap her back into reality.

John rested his head on Christine's shoulder, still shaking slightly. Christine was grinning and running her fingers through his short hair. They didn't say anything; they didn't need to. At that moment in time they were both content to lie there in each other's arms. The two eventually fell asleep where they were. Around 2 AM the silence of the early morning was pierced by the sound of a mournful violin. Christine opened her eyes at the sound of it and held her doctor closer. She looked down at him, watching him snuggle closer in his sleep. He looked so peaceful when he slept; he was warm and gentle even in his sleep

John was smiling before he even opened his eyes. Light was streaming through the window and the arms of a beautiful woman were around him; he didn't want to get up. He could hear Christine's gentle breathing and hear the steady beat of her heart. It was a beautiful sound. He was a woman that Sherlock could not drive away no matter how hard he tried, and he didn't seem to be trying to get rid of her. John gently placed a kiss on her shoulder. He stayed in her arms until she opened her eyes and started running her fingers through his hair again.

"Morning." He said, smiling sleepily.

"Sleep well, John?"

"Oh, yes I did. I just wonder if Sherlock got any sleep."

"If he did it wasn't much. He was up playing his violin early this morning."

In the months that she had been with them, Christine had learned Sherlock's odd habits. She was quite used to hearing his violin early in the morning, but never before had she heard him play a tune so depressing. To that tune her mind had drifted and John seemed to notice that her thoughts were elsewhere. He held her close, letting her head rest on his chest. Christine ghosted her fingertips over her doctor's chest and sighed. She could feel his warm hand resting at the small of her back, a pleasant feeling.

"When he played he sounded sad, John. I don't know why, but I wish I did. For all we know something could be bothering him."

"Christine, you know how he gets. If something is on his mind he'll deal with it himself."

"He doesn't like to admit that he has human weaknesses."

"Exactly. If it's bad enough he'll say something eventually. Come on, let's enjoy the quiet morning while it lasts."

Christine smiled up at John and rested her head on his shoulder. She traced her fingers gently over the scar on the shoulder opposite her, feeling him flinch as she touched it; she quickly withdrew her hand. He reached up and took her hand, and kissed it lightly.

"It's all right. It's just a little sensitive. Doesn't hurt, though, if that's what you thought."

She wondered how he knew exactly what words would put her at ease. Christine liked his scar. While that might have seemed strange to some, his scar represented one of the reasons they had met in the first place; without it the two would have never been brought together.

"Do you mind if I touch it, John?"

He let go of her hand and nodded, allowing her to ghost her fingers over the sensitive flesh. He shuddered at her touch, wondering why the experience excited him. Christine mapped the surface of the twisted scar with her fingers for a few minutes, and then replaced her fingers with her lips and tongue. She straddled his waist and traced her tongue around the edge of her love's defect, and covered it with loving kisses.

Hearing the breathy moans and sighs her kisses elicited from John, she grinned. Christine felt the doctor's cock twitch and harden beneath her. Look at you, John. You're enjoying it; you like it when I worship that scar of yours. You say it's "a little sensitive" but that's an understatement isn't it? she thought, looking up and staring into his eyes. He was wide-eyed and obviously aroused. John opened his mouth to speak; Christine put a finger to his lips and kept him quiet. A devilish grin formed on her lips as she slid down his torso, delighting in the fact that he had not put on any clothing since last night. She placed light kisses on the insides of his thighs and anywhere but where John wanted her to put her lips.

"Please…"

"Please what, John?"

"Please…please touch me. Put your mouth on me, oh God, please."

Christine grinned, "As you wish..." She slipped his now fully erect cock into her mouth to the hilt. He bit his knuckles to keep from groaning too loud and getting the attention of the other residents of the building. Christine looked up at him; they gazed into each other's eyes as she bobbed her head up and down. To John, it was an extremely erotic sight that sent waves of pleasure through him. It had been quite a while since he'd been serviced and he was thoroughly enjoying it.

Christine slid his cock out of her mouth with a soft pop. She wrapped her hand around the thick, pulsing organ and stroked it, moving her hand quickly.

"Oh! C-Christine…"

She looked down at him, a pleasantly strange fire burning in her eyes, "Oh, John, look at you. All this just from me touching and loving your beautiful imperfection. Do you know what it does to me, John? Seeing you like this? It makes me so hot; I'm so hot for you right now, John."

His response came in the form of a desperate whine that conveyed the need for more. Christine smiled at him for a moment before giving him what he wanted. She flicked her tongue over the sensitive head, ran her thumb roughly over the tip. His prick was weeping precum, which she licked off of him; it tasted semi-sweet.

"John, oh, my John, will you do something for me?"

The doctor, who seemed to be beyond words, nodded; he was breathing heavily, his head was swimming, and he had almost no idea what he was agreeing to.

"I want you to fuck my mouth, John. Control me."

He nodded and fisted his hand in her hair. She maneuvered his cock back into her mouth and gave control of her body to John. He roughly shoved her head down and brought it back up; he made her take him deep into her mouth, to the back of her throat. He never realized how good she was at suppressing her gag reflex, another turn on for him.

A low, throaty groan from Christine that vibrated along his cock made him thrust upwards. She reached up and took his free hand, squeezing lightly.

"Oh…oh! Christine, I'm going to-Oh!" he cried as he thrust her head down once more and spilled his seed into her throat. John could hear the soft mewling sound she made as she swallowed his cum; when she lifted her head she looked incredibly pleased and sated. Christine kissed him gently and rested her head on his shoulder again.

"I love you, John Watson." she whispered, not really knowing if he heard.

"I love you, Christine Long." he replied, gently kissing her forehead. Christine groaned when her phone went off. She snatched it from the beside table and looked at the text.

If you two are quite finished, I would like you to come down. Just you, Christine. –SH

A look of "oh, shit, what did I do" crossed her face for a split second, but disappeared quickly. She rose from the bed and donned the dressing gown she'd stolen from Sherlock ages ago. "John, love, I'm going to make some tea. You rest for a bit, I'll call you when it's ready." she kissed his cheek and made her way downstairs. Sherlock was waiting for her, and he was already making tea.

"Well? You've dragged me out of bed. What is it?"

Sherlock looked irritated with something; he didn't speak. Christine looked deep into his silver-gray eyes. She was concerned about him. Normally, Sherlock wasn't hesitant to tell her what he wanted, but now he was for some reason. Finally he fixed her with a piercing stare, a stare in which she saw a hint of fear and disquiet.

"Help me…"