"You do realise the government brought me back to sort out Moriarty… not to solve a case in Cornwall." Sherlock uttered as he lay next to John in Jolene's spare room.

"Yeah… I guess I thought it a little weird," John breathed. He was not in the mood for talking and just wanted sleep. Mary hadn't called him since he had spontaneously gone to Cornwall with a sociopathic previously exiled detective and chosen him over the birth of his own son. They had a fight about it as he was packing and it had tormented his nights like thoughts of him tormented Sherlock. The last thing he wanted was for Sherlock to tease him about domestics with Mary, and lecture him on how he 'should've been married to your work, not to a human'.

"A bit weird?" came Sherlock's reply, "it's an insult in the name of my intelligence. The fact my brother has something to do with Moriarty unhinges me, but doesn't surprise me. Why else would he want the government thinking I'm getting rid of the new boss and actually have me walk around in wellies with a constant sore nose?"

"I don't know Sherlock; I think I'm past worrying about that. I'm glad you're back though,"

"Really? It seems half the time you don't want to be near me and would much rather spend your days in Mary's boring company."

"It's not boring! We get up to… all sorts of stuff."

"What does she give you that I can't?"

There was a long pause and for a moment Sherlock thought John hadn't heard, but then he said, "Are you… saying what I think you're saying? Sherlock?"

"No, never mind… it was nothing," Sherlock turned on his side, facing away from John and hogged all the sheets.

"…If you say so," John looked at his friend uncertainly and decided it was better not to press the matter further.


He realized his hands were numb when the sensation of pins and needles had disappeared. He tried to open his eyes, but his vision was disrupted by a strip of cloth. The same restraint was used for a gag in his mouth and used to bind him to a chair. Breathe, he thought. Mycroft would come for him. Mycroft would find him. Mycroft loved him... Mycroft loved that psychopathic killer!

"Aagh," Greg called out 'h-heeef ee,"

There was no answer and his chest rose and fell with every short and quickening breath. Panic clenched his gut and adrenaline rushed through his veins. He started, very slowly at first, to shake. Then in realizing he was doing so, started to shake even more. And he yelled and called out, though it sounded more like muffled grunting seeing as his mouth was covered'

"Heeeep," he screamed in frustration and started to bang the chair up and down on the floor.

Then a door opened.

"So you've woken up?" came a soft voice from that direction, "About time too - you nearly missed your dinner," the voice had an Eastern European accent and an air about it that was calming and strangely nostalgic "well…" he continued, "the boss said that you might not be hungry straight away and to treat and to treat you how I treat the richest of my clients,"

The person walked over to where Greg sat. The prisoner leaped back in his chair, scraping it against the floor, and protested violently that he wanted nothing to do with this foreigner. However, the person, still un-phased by Greg's protests, sat down on his lap and stroked the officer's face gently, down to his jaw bone.

To his surprise, Greg subsided almost at once and let the stranger unbutton his collar.

"Oo," The person exclaimed "I didn't realize how dirty you are, you must have put up quite a fight... There's a lot of blood here. I'll just fetch some water."

Greg heard the person leave, shutting the door behind him.

But he didn't lock it, he thought eagerly. For what seemed like an age Greg pulled at his ties and tried to shake them loose or cut the gag with his teeth and to his horror the man entered again carrying something sloshing with, what he assumed was, warm water. The Person straddled Greg slowly and began to dab at the blood that had congealed around his neck.

"We're going to have to take this off," whispered the person, his voice as sweet and smooth as honey.

Greg had calmed down more as he realized his death wasn't imminent and was relived to find some haven in his life which was so confusing and distressing and had managed to fall to pieces in with the words "please leave," worsened by "new boss".

Slowly, his shirt was unbuttoned and he could feel the man's tender breath on his skin. He realized that the person on top of him wasn't wearing a shirt either, as when The person leaned across, to pull away the shirt at the back that had caught in the bonding, their naked chests touched – which somehow gave him comfort.

With the person's free hand, he cradled the exhausted Lestrade's head as if nursing a newborn babe. Then he reached into a bucket and lightly rinsed a sponge, the water droplets slowly dripping into the water. The sponge wasn't rinsed out enough and a lot of the water had managed to drip its way down onto the front of Gregory's trousers. He could feel their watery fingers caress his skin, and he started to forget his current situation.

The breath of the stranger on him made him feel colder and tiny little goose bumps sprung up. Though, where the water had dripped on his trousers was warm. The damp sensation shot through him and he felt a rousing underneath. He murmured softly, hoping the giver wouldn't hear.

"That's no good, you can't sit in wet clothes, you'll catch a chill." And with delicate fingers he undid the belt and slid off the trousers, tracing Greg's skin with his fingers as he went. There was no more hiding his boy's delight now as Greg was stripped to his underwear.

"Oh," the voice said, "it appears that you like me,"

Greg couldn't see it, but the person gave a delightful smile and straddled the Inspector once more. The person moved his buttocks lightly in a circular motion on Greg's lengthening pants. He put his arms around Greg's neck and used the sides of the chair as a pivot to move his body up and down on Greg. Lestrade gave out a sigh and his manhood had grown to its usual aroused length. Greg felt the delicate fingers glide up and down his back and finally reach down to take off his boxers.

"You'll have your dinner later," the voice whispered in his ear, so close his nose made contact with his ear. "But I want mine now."

The stranger playfully bit Greg's lower ear and descended, kissing him, down Greg's anatomy. When he got to Greg's swollen penis he went underneath it, to where his balls were splayed out in seduction, and licked them. Greg groaned and wished the gag wasn't on so he could call out, this time not in fear but in passion. The man's tongue licked all up the underneath to the top of his penis. And then it started. Greg couldn't help himself but cum in large sensual explosions that he had never seemed to experience with Mycroft - or any other lover for that matter. He arched his back and relaxed it again with each moment of intense pleasure, and felt the beautiful white stuff squirt out into the stranger's deliciously moist mouth.