It's a while until we catch our breath, it's how I imagine the come down from drugs might feel. The slow realisation that we can't stay inside our cosy bubble and we have to meet the outside world. It's weird to think that the profound event which has just changed my world was at first just a premise to get close to Freiman. I also remember the conversation Sherlock and I had when he told me Lestrade had phoned.
"I knew he'd come back for Laura's party." he clapped his hands together, clearly delighted with the news.
"What?" I looked up from the book I was reading 'SM101', Laura called it homework.
"Freiman's back in England, London specifically. Flew in this afternoon. I knew he wouldn't miss Laura's party." I put the book down.
"What? So he's a rabid party animal who can't resist dropping his nefarious people smuggling for a good bondage bash?" I frown; this makes zero sense to me. Sherlock smiles in a indulgent fashion, he can't help it. I suppose that's what happens when you're as razor sharp as he is.
"No John. But this is where he gets some of his clients." I can see my expression of horror is registering with him. He sits down next to me on the sofa and gently pries the book from my hands. He glances at the page I am reading, orgasm denial, and grins malevolently.
"I'm not saying there are crazy people traffickers at the party but I think Eccles interest in the kidnap scene went a little further than anyone is willing to tell us. Maybe he got in too far? Maybe he didn't realise until it was too late what he had signed up for?"
"Maybe it was all fun and games until he realised these people really had been kidnapped?" I offer and he nods, I can see he's excited by my suggestion. He's like an eager school teacher when he's like this. I frown again and he looks at me curiously.
"Do you think Mycroft knows? About the sex slave thing?" now Sherlock frowns, he steeples his hands and looks out of the window. After a moment, where I watch the pulse in his neck and think about the page I was reading, he answers.
"No. I know he's an objectionable old bastard but I don't think even he'd... no." He says and there is uncertainty in his voice and I know just why it's there. His brother went along with a murderous board game for years and only did something when he was forced to do so by his bosses. Is kidnapping beyond him? My experiences say no. Sherlock turns to me and grins.
"So, swotting for tonight?" he asks and I know he really doesn't want an answer.
"You'll have to wait and see." I grin back at him. Subject changed.
So eventually I help him clean up, Laura's left some wet wipes and a bag of clothes which Sherlock packed during the day for him to change into when we were done playing. My jeans and the t shirt with the studs have survived the fun pretty much unscathed so that's ok. I grab the bag and Sherlock pulls the clothes out. It's his leather and mesh combo. Oh sweet lord. As if things weren't interesting enough tonight.
He leans on me as he gets dressed, more than he needs to in order to balance. I notice that we are both more tactile, more aware of the connection between us than we were before. To stand next to him is to feel an ocean of air between us and the sensation is disorientating after our intimacy. I put my hand on his arm and he looks at me and smiles.
"Are you ok?" he asks. I nod. I am. I'm better than ok. I don't understand it but I feel like I've been scoured clean, like I've let out a lot of tension or aggression. I used to feel a bit like this post rugby match but this is far more intense. I decide to analyse it later.
"So, remind me again. What am I saying to Freiman?" I am nervous about this but strangely not as much I was earlier this evening. It's as though playing this role with Sherlock has loosened me up, freed me from some inhibitions. I suppose it has.
"Well, tell him we did a kidnap scene. Tell him it was too tame, you're bored, need some new buzz."
"Should I suggest that it's all so 'acted' and I want something more real?" he nods.
"If you can do it subtly, I think it'll pique his interest." He's dressed now and with his cheeks still slightly flushed from his orgasm; his lips still a little redder and his messy hair I have a hard time not convincing him to stay with me in the small room with the bunk. He catches my appreciative glance and strides to me, grabbing my backside and pulling me in close.
"It's not over John Watson," he growls, grinning and pushing his hips against me. "You still have an appointment with those bars." He raises an eyebrow and I swallow. How did he know I was thinking about that? He winks and kisses me.
Out on the corridor the music is loud. We wander down the corridor, past the tinted windows which lead to the other rooms. We see Laura, Lola I suppose, and Rose. Rose is in the stocks and it looks like they've just finished their fun because they are both grinning widely. Lola is wrapping a long shiny rubber skirt around her waist and the black of the heavy material contrasts with the shocking pink rubber corset she's wearing. From what I can see Rose has the reversed colours on. Her rubber dress, so short it could be a vest, is black with pink edging which circles the holes over her nipples and the lines run down the front accentuating her curves as it barely covers her hips.
Sherlock knocks on the glass and Rose looks over and waves with a hand still captured in the stocks. He laughs. Lola unclips her partner, rubs some kind of lotion on her wrists and passes her a drink. Then she opens the door and stands in the doorway grinning at us.
"Have fun gentlemen?" she asks with a chuckle. In unison Sherlock and I nod enthusiastically and Lola laughs loudly. "Brilliant! That's what I like to see!" she looks at me. "Debrief later?" I look at Sherlock and he nods.
"From both of us... if John is ok with that?" I nod. You know what, I think I am. Lola grins.
"Get the drinks in boys; we'll see you in there." She nods down the corridor and we make our way to where the music is pounding and the soft lighting is inviting us in to Lola's Aladdin's cave.
People pass by us, all dressed in weird and wonderful outfits. Women dressed as policewomen in rubber uniforms, someone, I can't tell their gender, covered entirely in glitter, a man in a complete latex outfit with zips in his hood for his mouth and nose. It's all so interesting, so different and I'm intrigued by my lack of reaction to these extremes. The transformation that has been wrought upon me by meeting this astounding man is something which I can hardly fathom. But I like it, I like the new me. I recognise now that the old John Watson was too unsure, too careful. He was going to live and die bored out of his mind. But not me. Not with Sherlock.
In the cave room the atmosphere is that of lots of private parties going on in one space. People lounge about, drinking and laughing and some people are dancing. There's a bar in a sort of ante room off to the side of the cave and we make our way through the crowd towards it. Several people say hello to Sherlock including one very enthusiastic young man dressed as an angel. He has silver heavy boots on under silver leather trousers and his entire torso is painted the same metallic hue, his wings hang on his back, slightly askew.
"Sherlock! Fantastic to see you! Who's this?" His eyes travel over me and it feels indecent. His full mouth is curved in a big smile and he's attractive in a boyish, androgynous sort of way. Sherlock stops and he is smiling.
"Art! Hello. Haven't seen you for ages!" They don't hug as I expected them to; like other people would on meeting an old friend, but then I remember Sherlock probably doesn't hug anyone but me and I feel a little smug.
"And... so this is...?" Art waves at me again and cocks his head. "The reason we've not seen you for ages?" he enquires. Sherlock nods solemnly.
"This is John, Art. John Watson. And yes, he's the reason you've not seen me. We've been...busy." This last word is directed at me with a grin and I laugh. Art looks pleased.
"Great! Well he looks very nice." He mock leers at me. "We should get together sometime, for drinks, or sharing." He laughs and I realise he is joking; he's obviously noticed that, since we started speaking, Sherlock is holding my hand in his. I feel his fingers tighten slightly in mine and then he answers.
"I'm afraid Art, that sharing is out of the question. I'm not even slightly bored yet." He smiles at me and I realise what a big compliment that is. Art does too; he raises his eyebrows with a low whistle.
"Wow. Big statement from the mighty Holmes." He grins. Sherlock takes the ribbing well and he l laughs too. "You," he points a silver finger at my chest, "must be something special Mr. Watson."
"Dr. Watson," Sherlock corrects and Art laughs again.
"Oh well, that explains it all Sherlock!" They both laugh. It strikes me that Sherlock is more comfortable with these people and with James his Big Issue seller than with anyone else I have seen. With the outsiders, the deviants. It's an interesting observation.
Art is moving on, he's spotted some more people he knows.
"Well Dr Watson, have fun with the brain there!" he laughs and I laugh with him, Sherlock smiles. "Although in that outfit it's not the brain I'm looking at!" and he moves off through the crowd like a small silver shark.
I look at Sherlock and gesture questioningly to the retreating angel.
"Art," he shrugs, "another member of the aristocracy, friend of Laura's. Good man." He ends smiling. I wonder for a moment if he's another of Sherlock's experiments but that's soon drowned out by Lola and Rose who burst upon us through the crowd. It's interesting; we all seem to be on the same high.
"Did you even get to the bar?" asks Lola.
"No, we met Art." I say and she laughs.
"Oh yes, that boy's a distraction alright. Anyway I wanted to tell you..." but whatever she has to say is forgotten because a tall, blond young man interrupts us all. All of us gawp at him, probably for different reasons. In the split second before he speaks I register two things. One, everyone else in this group knows him well and two, he looks like a model. Honestly, he's at least six foot four and his hair is that messy, surf hair everyone tries to have. His eyes are light blue and framed by a face which is so traditionally handsome that it's a bit intimidating. He is well built and I get the impression that he plays rugby and probably plays it well.
"Sherlock?" his voice is deep and he is frowning. I look at Sherlock whose eyes have gone wide and whose tongue is at his top lip in an expression which is as embarrassed as I have ever seen him. I am amazed to say the least. I look back at the intruder and I realise who he is. Andrew.
Rose jumps into the conversation.
"Oh my god Andrew! I haven't seen you in ages! How's work? The house? Is it finished yet?" he glances at her and dismisses her questions with a blink. He looks at me.
"Who's this Sherlock?" his voice could freeze blood. Fuck this, I think, and step forward, mindful that my body language puts me between him and Sherlock.
"John Watson." I hold out my hand. He looks at it and then shakes it, putting slightly more force than necessary into his grip. Idiot. "And you are?" I make it quite clear I haven't a clue. No mate, he doesn't talk about you, at all, my expression says.
"Andrew Blackledge." He says curtly and his eyes go back to Sherlock's face. He moves so that his line of sight to Sherlock is clear again. Sherlock is smiling from one side of his mouth. "So, have you changed your number?"
"No. I lost my phone." Sherlock replies as if he's oblivious to the fact that this is one of the lamest excuses there is for not calling someone, then he adds. "I've been using John's."
Andrew's face grows more serious at this last comment.
"I tried to call you." he says accusingly, bitterly.
"I told you not to," Sherlock states this, like a fact. He really has no idea with people. A flicker of a frown crosses Andrew's face. He looks at Lola, Rose and then at me as if deciding whether to say anymore in front of us.
"Can we go somewhere? And talk?" his voice takes on an earnest tone. Sherlock looks at all of us and then back to Andrew. His face is blank.
"No," he says, "there isn't anything to talk about." Andrew's face grows a shade darker at this. I can almost see him decide to just say what he has to say anyway, regardless of the audience.
"I thought we had something Sherlock, something... well... I don't know but I thought that you felt..." he runs his hand over his face and I almost feel sorry for him because I know what's coming. I know what Sherlock does when people presume things of him.
"Andrew, I remember quite vividly that I never once led you to believe that our arrangement was anything other than a series of experiments I wanted to carry out. I also remember telling you explicitly that ours was in no way a relationship based on any emotional feelings. I really don't understand how you can have misconstrued my intentions?" he raises his eyebrows and the hand that is not in mine fans out as though to emphasise the confusion he's expressing. If it wasn't so tense it'd be funny.
"Is this another experiment?" Andrew's voice is sharp with anger and he points at me. Lola puts her hand on his chest and he bats it away. The gesture is aggressive and uncalled for. Something trips a switch inside my head, I can't stand bad manners. I step back between them.
"Look, Andrew?" I phrase his name like a question, "I think Sherlock's made it quite clear that your time together is over now. And, well... we're enjoying this party and..." the next thing I know is Andrew has pulled back his shoulder and swung a punch at me.
Before it can connect, and things get slow motion like we're in some sci fi film, Sherlock's long fingered hand comes up and swipes the fist away with some oriental martial art move. I have no time to register the shock because Andrew is coming at me again.
For the second time that night, basic training kicks in. I sweep a foot out, catching him on the kneecap midstride. The leg crumples under him and he goes down hard. People around us look over and some of them realise that this is not a game or a performance. Lola waves to a man behind the bar and he is with us in seconds. He helps Andrew up and begins to escort him away, Andrew still looking back over his shoulder. In a childish impulse I grab Sherlock and pull him into a long kiss, grabbing his hair with one hand and his arse with the other. I hear Lola and Rose laughing.
When I break the kiss Sherlock is panting slightly and grinning.
"I don't know why they don't just grow antlers and fight it out in the car park." Lola says to Rose laughing. I laugh, she's right, but something about the flush on Sherlock's cheeks tells me he found that exchange a little more than exhilarating. Interesting, I shelve the information for later.
We're still laughing when I spot Freiman. I nudge Sherlock but he's already looking that way too. I figure I'm better off getting this out of the way but I have no idea how to approach him.
"I'm just off to the bathroom." I mumble and Sherlock nods.
"We'll be over there." Lola points to a corner where there's a free chaise longue and some cushions.
Luckily for me Art is already talking to a man standing by Freiman and he spots me and waves.
"Hi Art, seen Sherlock?" I ask pretending to scan the crowd. He shakes his head.
"That awful Andrew's just been 'escorted from the premises'" he air quotes and grins. "God, he's so fucking tedious. Anyway John, this is Gus and Damien, friends of someone..." he waves a hand to the crowd vaguely and giggles, "someone who I just met but can't remember their name." He shrugs and we all laugh.
"Were you in the kidnap room John?" Gus asks me, his eyes are a pale slate colour and he squints at me as though he's slightly short sighted. The scar puckers his face badly, cutting through the muscle and the hair of his eyebrow. Damien is a tall, blonde man; he looks bored out of his mind. He even yawns as he scans the crowd.
"Yeah that was me." I roll my eyes to express tedium and Gus laughs.
"What? Not exciting enough for you? Lola throws a mean party." I laugh too and drink the drink he's passed to me, it's lager but I'll live.
"Gus, when you've seen life and death like I have then playing games can get a bit flat you know?" he raises an eyebrow.
"Army? Seen some action John?" I nod and drink my pint, watching his reaction over the rim of my glass.
"You could say I've seen what you might call action, a lot more fucking risky than this fake shit though." I make my voice hard and sharp. He grins a wide smile.
"Have you been coming here long? Got any special friends here?" I shake my head.
"I know Lola and Rose but only briefly and I don't know anyone else here." Gus nods thoughtfully and points to where Art is chatting up some bloke in a rubber Nazi uniform. "Art? No just met him tonight. In fact, you're the first person I've spoken to properly. To be honest," I lower my voice conspiratorially and he leans in to listen. "I'm finding it all a bit," I give a long sigh and shrug. "I thought it'd be a bit more exciting you know, dangerous. Guess it's not the buzz I was looking for."
He nods again and glances at Damien who gives the most imperceptible of nods in return. Gus turns to me.
"John," he tilts his head backwards sharply indicating to me that he's saying something private, confidential between us two. "I might be able to help you out with that particular problem." I raise my eyebrows and nod for him to go on. He pulls a phone from his pocket and taps the keyboard.
"What's your number? I'll ring you when we get the next gig set up. You can come along and see what you think." I give him my number.
"Ok, sounds good. It's not more of this though is it?" I wave my hand dismissively, "'cause I can't handle more rich people playing games, you know what I mean?" he laughs.
"I don't think you'll be disappointed mate."
"Nice one. Right well better get back." I roll my eyes again and he chuckles.
"Yeah, don't miss the fun." I smirk and walk away.
Sherlock and the girls are drinking and people watching. Lola is making comments on people's outfits and the mess someone's made of one of the rooms. They're all laughing. Sherlock spots me and pats the large floor cushion next to his chair. Laughing I motion for him to stand up and he grins. Then he sits on the cushion and leaves me the chair. Lola and Rose roar with laughter.
"This John, is a false sense of security." Sherlock laughs up at me, his bright eyes glittering. "Wait until I get you home."
"Oooooooh." Chorus Lola and Rose and we are still laughing when Art and his new friend, the rubber Nazi, join us. The conversation gets ribald and rowdy.
"How did it go?" Sherlock asks me quietly.
"He's got my number," I answer and his face is momentarily serious. "He's going to ring me when something exciting's going to happen."
So I needed to move the plot along and deal with Andrew. Was it ok? I feel a bit of a come down after the last chapter (did I peak too soon?) but maybe that's because there was less action in this? Did you like john's smack down? Sherlock's martial arts? Art's wings? Let me know what you thought. I really find your comments useful.
Btw does anyone know of any Sherlock fanfic awards we can go for? These things always scare me but you've given me so much confidence!
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