This chapter contains moderate scences of a sexual nature between Sherlock/ John and Mycroft/ (not) Anthea. So skip this chapter if that isn't your forte.
The Social Network
Part 10- The soldier and the assistant
Mycroft's POV:
'Text message from your brother Honey.' Announces my personal assistant as she untangles herself from my body and the bed clothes in order to pass me a phone.
'Thank you sweetheart.' I coo, barely paying attention to the phone, when her strawberry smelling cleavage and the prospect of sleeping is so much more interesting.
Idly, I scroll though my messages, only giving it my full attention when I register that the message is indeed from Sherlock.
Text message received from: SH
To: MH
Your assistance would be appreciated – John.
-image attached
-open (yes) (no)
- (yes)
'Alex, what do you make of this?' I ask, holding the picture out for my lover to see.
'A computer screen.' She observes thoughtfully. 'Three screens, Doctor Watson, your brother and a room full of people. And isn't that the psychopath who attempted to kill them both at the pool last year?'
'Indeed. James Moriarty, consulting criminal.' I confirm. 'Judging by this photo he's holding Sherlock and John hostage.'
'Yes, but look at your brother's face. He's concentrating, attempting to work his way out of this. He's attempting to make a decision.' Adds Alex, face screwed up in concentration.
'Dear god Alex you've got it.' I announce, stopping briefly to capture her lips with my own. 'Look at the layout. Three screens, Sherlock in the middle. He's been offered a choice. Save John or a room full of strangers.'
'What can I do to help Mycroft?' She asks, as she rolls elegantly out of my grasp and untangles herself from the duvet. She then begins dressing, tugging on underwear and a black trouser suit.
Que: the return of professional Alex. Or should I say Aimee as im told she wishes to be referred to as today. Darn it, trust Sherlock to get into trouble on the one day two of the most rebellious countries (I can't mention their names, but I can say they speak French and German) have declared a truce, and I could be sleeping with my rather beautiful girlfriend.
'I'll forward you the picture, could you hack into MI5, Scotland Yard, the CIA and the CIN databases and run the people through face recognition software? I ask.
'Of course.' She responds, amused glint in her eyes. 'Should I let them know prior to the act?'
'I see no reason why that will be necessary.' I state.
'Right away sir.'
10 minutes later, 'Aimee' dashes into my office then adjoining bedroom where I still lie, now fully awake, laptop on my knee. She has her iPad under her right arm, and precious BlackBerry clutched in her left.
Without bothering with pleasantries, she launches into her findings: As far as I can tell, there are 51 people in the room. 48 of them can be identified. 8 are British, 7 are American, and 33 are Spanish. Your brother's current clients the Sways also appear to be attending, along with a Mr Edmund, who according to Holmes and Watson's text message history, has some significance.'
'Edmund… where does that ring a bell… ah yes, the master blackmailer, with incriminating photos of the Sway's youngest daughter. Thank you darling. I myself have also done some research and have narrowed down their possible locations that these 50 people are located in 5 rooms. I've sent people to 4 of the locations; I believe that we should visit the 5th, as I am fairly sure it is the most plausible location.
'What exactly are we going to do if we find them?' She inquires.
Good question. One that I have a perfectly formed answer for. 'We'll cross that bridge if we get to it.'
-SHERLOCK-
Back to Sherlock's POV.
'Sherlockkk.' Drawls Moriarty, exaggerating the K in my name far more than is necessary. 'I'm growing impatient; you've had 33 minutes to decide. Have you made a decision yet sweetie?'
'Uh… yes. Could I speak to John… in private?' I ask, attempting to both buy time and speak to John.
'Why not. Go speak to the pet. The line's open. You have 3 minutes.' He answers.
'Could you untie me, and may I have my clothes back?' I ask pouting. 'Surely the downfall of your arch nemesis cannot be the same when I'm tied to a chair?'
'Sure sweetie why not. It's not like you've got anywhere to go.' Moriarty claps his hand once, to which another man walks up to me and roughly cuts my bounds free and passes me a bundle of my clothes.
'John.' I cry out to the computer screen the second Moriarty leaves the room.
'Oh hey Sherlock.' He calmly responds.
'John! How can you be so… calm?' I ask disbelievingly. I mean… he's a war hero… but you'd think that he would be a little upset with the prospect of an impending death.
'I texted Mycroft. He's figured out the location of the people in the other room. They're all safe.' Resorts John.
Bu…t how did he manage that?
'John… how?' I mummer.
'Turns out Moriarty pays his employees minimum wage, the man has three children and a wife at home, he was prepared to accept £1,000 euros for uniting me and allowing me access to your phone.'
It's official. My boyfriend (?) is a genius! Not on the same level as me of course, but he's getting there!
'Oh and we owe the man a thousand euros.' He adds
'That's… brilliant John.' I say awestruck.
'Thanks Sherlock.' He mutters, apparently astonished at the praise I have given him. 'So what happens now?'
'Simple. Moriarty lets me go, I find you, we walk out of here and go back to the hotel, have magnificent sex, solve the case, solve Moriarty, head back to Baker Street, have more sex.' I utter.
'That's it Sherlock, said goodbye to your pet?' Taunts Jim as he walks into the room and walks over to me.
'Oh I hardly think goodbyes are necessary.' I respond.
'Oh realy? No 'I love you Johnny?' He mocks.
'Nope. Not that I don't love him.' I quickly add. 'Anyhow, decision made. Want to hear it?'
'Yep why not. Go ahead.' He says looking mildly surprised.
'I've decided to save John. He's my partner in every sense of the word, why would I care about a room of 50 strangers? I suppose you'll be loyal to the agreement? John and I are free to go?' I ask, smirk plastered on my face.
'You're going to let innocent people die?' He asks disbelievingly. 'One life over 50? Do the math Sherlock. Oh god life is sooo boring! I thought you were different. I was under the impression that you wouldn't be tied down by anyone. You're on the side of the angels. So yes, go by all means, live your life. Take John. But don't expect this to be out last meeting.'
'Goodbye Sherlock.' He says singing. 'We'll meet again, don't know where don't know when! But we'll meet again some sunny day!'
I'm free to go. I can leave. Walk right out of here. There seems little point. The game is far from over. The playing felid may have evened out now, but it could tip to either side with the flick of a switch.
But John. John is my priority. After dressing and spending 5 minutes of dashing around this abnormally large warehouse that Moriarty seems to have taken owner ship of, I run into John, who had apparently taken initiative and attempted to locate me himself.
Immediately, I engulf John in my arms, holding him as close as I can physically manage, and whisper sweet nothings into his shoulder.'
Thank god he's alright.
'I thought I was going to lose you.' I whisper into John's shoulder, almost ashamed of my emotional display.
John pulls away from me at this point, and places both of his hands on my shoulders.
'Sherlock listen to me. I am not going to leave you purposefully.' He says sincerely.
'What if it wasn't purposeful? If you continue to accompany me on my cases, you could end up dead, and I cannot allow that to happen to you.'
'Sherlock, I am a grown man. I am able to make my own decisions. Therefore, for as long as you wish me to help, I will accompany you.' He says, pulling me into another hug.
'John I'm sorry.' I reply, wrapping my arms around John as he runs his fingers though my hair.
'It's ok Sherlock.' He mummers.
'So we're good? I inquire
'Yes, we're good Sherlock.' He adds happily.
'What happens with Moriarty?' Inquires John
'I don't know. But I dought we've seen then last of him.' I confirm.
'And the room of people?' I ask
'Well.' Say's John as he takes my phone out of his pocket. 'According to Mycroft, they're all safely of the building, and the bomb has been successfully disarmed. An associate of Moriarty's was also found, poised ready to press the button. Mycroft has taken him in for 'questioning.' Oh and out clients, the Sways, and the master blackmailer were there, and both wish to speak to us tomorrow as 9 and 10 o'clock.' John reads.
'Good. And the time is currently 2 am.' I add.
'So we 7 hours until we're required to meet the clients.' John hints. I will admit that it took me a little longer than necessary to decipher his hardly cryptic code (I'll put that down to the thrill of outwitting Moriarty) but eventually I get there.
'Hotel.'
'Oh yes.'
-SHERLOCK-
We barley reach the hotel room before our hands are all over each other, and any clothes that can be respectively removed in public are removed. No dought that the people who saw us in the street despaired of us. Especially the young (Christian recently divorced) mother who covered her child's eyes thanks to our persistent kissing and a man (married, 3 children, serial adulterer) who wolf whistled and informed John that he is a 'lucky boy.' I beg to differ. I am the lucky one.
Things become still more heated once we enter the hotel room and we are out of public scrutiny.
Within minutes both John and I are undressed and writhing on the bed in my room.
My arms are wrapped tightly around John's torso, desperate to feel his skin on mine, and John's hands are ruffling and fiddling with my locks.
Our lips are locked together, and tounges are moving into the other's mouth, but it's not enough, not by a long shot.
John's mouth then pulls away from mine, much to my despair. What happened?
'I want you in my mouth Sherlock.' He moans throatily, voice deep with desire and pupils dilated.
'Oh god yes John!' I cry
He slowly moves down my body.
'You know, until a few days ago I was under the impression that you were heterosexual.' I comment, hitching my breath as I feel John's wet tounge on my stomach.
'No, more Bi-curios.' He says, in-between tracing tiny circles with his tounge, causing me to moan involuntary.
'Oh realy, tell me more.' I say, barley able to speak.
'I've only ever dated women, but that's not to say I've never found men attractive. But you… well I suppose sher-sexual would be more accurate.' He mutters sweetly.
'And you John. I experimented in university, but they were experiments. You are my first relationship.'
'God I love you.' Responds John.
'And I do believe your feelings are mutual John.' I express. That's the closest I believe I can come to saying I love him at present.
From the position John and I are in, I am unable to see his face, but even from the angle I am in, I feel John smile against my stomach.
'Anyway, where were we?' Asks John seductively.
'I do believe you were about too…' I start until John interrupts me by licking the end of my penis, causing me to groan.
'You were saying?' He asks, smirk on his face, and glint in his eyes.
'John I swear to god if you stop.' I hiss
'Pleasure.' He responds.
An hour later both John and I lie spent in each other's arms. I turn my head to the right, and press a gentle kiss to John's mouth, fascinated by the fact that I am able to do this now, freely, without having to worry about John leaving Baker Street.
I lean in for another kiss and it becomes more heated, resulting in me on top of John, kissing my way around his body, marvelling about every detail of him, paying special attention to the scar on his shoulder that resulted in his discharge from the army, and becoming my flatmate.
'Round Two?' John suggests. Pulse elevated pupil's dilated, half hard penis stranding against my thigh. All the evidence would suggest that John Hamish Watson is aroused. And he's not the only one. And to think people assume I am asexual.
'Ready when you are.'
-SHERLOCK-
Mycroft's POV:
By 5 o'clock order is restored. Both Sherlock and John are safe and unharmed, as are the room full of people who are all alive and well. With the exception of the man who died of a myocardial infarction, but in my defence, that is classified as natural causes.
The man ready to blow up the room is being held in a government facility, ready to be 'questioned' at a later date, along with a couple more of Moriarty's hench men, all as stupid as each other. Unforchanatly, Moriarty himself managed to allude our grasp; I have my best men searching for him. Though no dought Sherlock will be on the case now that he has threatened John's life a second time, so I hardly think my precautions will prove necessary.
Other than that, everything seems to be in order, and I am finally able to retire to bed with my sweetheart.
Alex and I so rarely spend an un-disturbed night together, that out love making has come to be though pleasurable, swift and over far too fast for either of our likings
Tonight (or rather this morning) things will be different. While Alex showers, I set up scented candles and most importantly switch of all our communication devices, ensuring that just this once, we won't be disturbed.
Alex comes out of the shower, dark wet hair draping over her back, face free of makeup, body wrapped in a deep blue towel. She has never looked more perfect to me.
She notices the candles, and being the intelligent woman she is, guesses the phones are off, before reaching up and capturing my lips with her own. Together, we rid the other of all clothing, breaking contact only when it is necessary in order to remove the clothing.
Within minutes we are naked and writhing together on the bed. After the most foreplay we have managed since our first night together, I gently climb on top of this goddess and seek her permission to go further with my eyes. She doesn't look away and cradles my face with her hands while whispering 'I'm ready Mycroft.'
'I love you Alex.' I whisper into her ear, while gently nibbling at her ear lobe.
'And I love you Mycroft.'
She is the only woman I have told that I love her. She knows this. Knows what a huge deal those three little words are. And I love her for it.
Finally we are together, signing in contentment at the feelings of pleasure that run through us.
Just this once there's no rush, and it's a blessing. The phones are off. My sectary (not PA, only Alex may earn that title) is under strict instructions not to let any calls through.
But it won't last. It never does.
Sometime later, we lie together. Alex is asleep, body wrapped firmly in my arms rather like a limpet that refuses to let go. Somehow the phone rings. Rings while turned off with no battery inside it.
Without acknowledging the caller ID I know full well who the phone call is from. There are only two men capable and daring enough to do this. And I am lying right here, so I pick up the phone and whisper into it so not to wake Alex:
'Sherlock, what the bloody hell do you want now?'
Author's note: (Warning, I ramble on a bit here, so skip it if you're not interested in the blunderings of a fan girl)
So, this chapter commemorates one week after the fall aired to England. I still get upset when I think about it. Poor John! Question. Im having an argument with a friend. How many of you think that what John didn't say to his therapist should have been something along the lines of 'I love Sherlock'?
What do you think? Sherlock/John and Mycroft/ (not) Anthea ok? What do you think. Do you want more of Mycroft and his PA or should I stick to S&J?
Chapter posted on Sunday as promised. Right, it's Monday tomorrow which means school (sigh), so I'm not sure when the next update will be. But I'll make you a deal. If I get a total of 50 reviews by Wednesday, I will update Wednesday night. If not, later this week. I leave you with a choice.
As usual, thank you to all my wonderful readers, reviewers, story alerts, fave story etc. You honestly mean the world to me, without it, I would have given up ages ago.
Thank you! – Lizzie xx
P.S sneakysnakes: First, thank you for your support. I appreciate your complements. I do however feel obliged to tell you that I probably won't be fixing spelling etc errors in the foreseeable future, as I tend to post on a whim. I write because I enjoy it, and I know my spelling isn't great. If this annoys you then there will be no hard feelings if you don't continue to read this story. Thank you all the same.