Chapter Eleven: Bow

Warnings: Light d/s and the inappropriate use of a violin bow (in other words, Mycroft whips Greg with a long piece of wood).

[Text from: Sherlock Holmes

To: Sally Donovan

I've heard you have a pool going about this war between my brother and me.

SH]

It took Greg twenty minutes to realise Mycroft was staring at him. It was midday on Saturday and both men had the day off. They were on the couch taking a break from tumbling across their bed, Greg with his feet up on the coffee table, Mycroft's head on his lap. The politician had been reading but Greg realised his boyfriend was now staring at him rather than his book.

'Boring?' Greg asked.

'No,' Mycroft said, fidgeting with the pages. 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is quite interesting.'

'Then why are you looking at me?' Greg asked, looking over the top of his own book. 'I've been trying to finish Harry Potter for ages and I can't concentrate with you staring at me.'

Mycroft said, 'I was just... thinking.'

'About?'

'This war with Sherlock.'

Greg smiled. 'No, you were probably thinking about me naked.'

Mycroft chuckled and said, 'Yes, okay, I was. The two kind of go together, don't they?'

'Mm, I suppose.' When Mycroft didn't say anything, Greg lowered Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince again. 'You were thinking about fucking me somewhere that would annoy Sherlock, weren't you?'

'Maybe.'

'Out with it, Myc,' Greg said, 'I'm nearly done with this and then I can finally start on the seventh one.'

'You already know what happens.'

'That's not the point.'

Mycroft smiled and flipped his book shut, shifting to look at Greg better. 'I was thinking about that time we used your handcuffs.'

Greg raised his eyebrows. 'Yeah?'

'Mm.'

Greg smiled, remembering that night well. He'd been cuffed to the headboard and Mycroft had smacked his arse raw before finally fucking him hard. It was the night Mycroft showed Gregory Lestrade that the DI quite liked being smacked about a bit.

'Hmm...'

'Hmm?' Mycroft echoed.

'Just... now I'm thinking about it.' Mycroft chuckled. 'Wait, what's that got to do with the war with Sherlock?'

Mycroft smiled. 'Well... he owns that lovely violin bow.'

Greg felt all the blood in his body rush to his crotch. He just sat there, staring at Mycroft, imaging the tall politician whipping him with that bow...

'Jesus Christ.'

'Gregory?' Mycroft said, sitting up quickly and looking at his partner. 'I'm sorry, did you not–'

Greg grabbed Mycroft's hand and forced it to his crotch. Mycroft felt the older man's erection through his tracksuit pants and smiled.

'I take that to mean yes?'

'Yes,' Greg nodded, 'definitely yes; please hit me with that bow and fuck me... yes, yes, yes!'

'I get it, Gregory.'

'Do you?' Greg said and chucked his book across the coffee table. 'Now.'

'Now?'

Greg nodded, dragging Mycroft up. 'I don't care how, just get Sherlock and John out of there. Because you are forcing me up against one of their windows, smacking me with that goddamn bow, and then fucking me until I come.'

Mycroft's mouth fell open before he grabbed his BlackBerry, tapping away to do whatever it was he did to get what he wanted.

[Text From: Sally Donovan

To: Sherlock Holmes

... maybe.]

221B was empty (if you didn't count Mrs Hudson, who no doubt had her ear pressed to the door) and Mycroft led Greg in. He stopped in the middle of the living room and turned to face his boyfriend.

'Now, Gregory, what am I going to do with you?'

'Whatever you want,' Greg said, Mycroft's commanding tone going straight to his crotch. They rarely did the whole dom/sub thing, or even spanking, but sometimes Greg liked to be put in his place. And Mycroft Holmes was the perfect man to do that.

'Strip,' Mycroft ordered.

Greg did so slowly, knowing Mycroft liked to watch. The DI folded his clothes and placed them on the couch before turning to face Mycroft, cock already erect and head glistening with pre-come.

'My, my, look how excited you are,' Mycroft said and stepped forward. He stopped just short of Greg, suit briefly rubbing against the older man and making him moan. 'Now, now, Gregory, there's a time and place for those kinds of noises.'

'And those would be?' Mycroft raised an eyebrow. 'Erm, sorry, sir.'

'Better,' Mycroft said. 'But I still think you need to be punished.' He grabbed Greg by the shoulders, forcing the man onto his knees.

'God, yes.'

'Now see, I was going to fuck your mouth but you went and spoke without being asked.' Mycroft moved away and Greg had to force himself not to whine; it'd only make Mycroft move slower.

The politician busied himself in the corner, leaving Greg on his knees, the carpet biting into his skin. When he finally came back he was holding Sherlock's bow.

[Text From: Sherlock Holmes

To: Sally Donovan

Dimmock has a big mouth, Sally. Put me in, Team Johnlock. Truly horrible, by the way, you and Mrs Hudson have no imagination.

SH]

Greg had to clamp a hand over his mouth. Though he'd seen the bow a hundred times (and been smacked/prodded with it before) in Mycroft Holmes' hand the thing was goddamn sexy.

'What do you think, Gregory?' Mycroft asked, running a finger over the wooden stick. He brought it to Greg's chin, making the DI tilt his head up. 'You may answer.'

'I think in your hands it's beautiful, sir.'

Mycroft smiled, satisfied. 'Very good.'

Slowly, he stroked the tip down Greg's neck, the DI shuddering but keeping quiet. He closed his eyes as Mycroft ran the bow across his chest, circling both nipples before suddenly pulling back. Greg's eyes opened and he gasped when Mycroft slapped him lightly, the tip of the bow digging into his skin with a lovely sharpness.

'Are you okay?'

'Yes,' Greg nodded.

'We stop whenever you want, Gregory,' Mycroft said, 'remember that.'

'I will, sir.'

He smiled and went back to stroking Greg's body, moving down to his crotch. When the bow reached his cock, Mycroft turned it to rub Greg's shaft with the horsehairs.

'Why is it sticky?' Greg asked before he could stop himself.

Mycroft smiled. 'Sherlock must have oiled it recently.'

'You have to oil a bow?'

'To keep the friction.'

'Right...'

'Did you know they typically use between one hundred and fifty and two hundred horse hairs for a violin–'

'Myc, is any of that going to matter when you hit me with it?'

'No.'

'Well then I don't care.'

'Do you realise how expensive bows are?'

'And?'

'Sherlock will kill us when he finds out.'

'So don't break the bow.'

'He'll know.'

'And?'

'Nothing.'

[Text From: Sally Donovan

To: Sherlock Holmes

Are you serious?]

Greg grinned and looked up at his boyfriend. 'So, Mr Holmes,' he said slowly and Mycroft smiled. 'What would you like me to do?'

'Hmm...' Mycroft murmured and paced back and forth, playing with the violin bow. It somehow looked sexual in his long, thin fingers, the way he touched the wooden handle, or skimmed his fingers along the waxy horse hair.

He moved to stand behind Greg, the DI biting his lip to stop from turning.

'This is called the frog,' Mycroft said, running the handle along Greg's lower back. 'I'm not going to hit you with this part, it would hurt too much.'

'Uh huh.'

Mycroft smiled. 'I think I'll hit you with the stick; the horse hair would break and we wouldn't want that.'

'N-no, suppose not,' Greg said, the words tumbling from his mouth as lust threatened to break him completely.

'What do you want, Gregory?'

'W-whatever you want,' Greg said and licked his lips slowly.

[Text From: Sherlock Holmes

To: Sally Donovan

Yes, "Johnlock" is a horrible name, why does John get to be first? And why is his entire name used yet only half of mine?

SH]

Mycroft smiled and shifted behind Greg, moving to hold the bow in his left hand. He tisked slightly, running the tip along Greg's spine. 'What my mother would say if she saw this.'

'Huh?' was all Greg managed.

'She tried to have me learn the violin and when that failed the cello. Unfortunately I cannot play like Sherlock. The piano has always been my instrument.' He paused to dig the tip of the bow into Greg's shoulder, the DI grunted softly. 'It seems a shame now; I can't exactly hit you with a piano.'

Greg giggled and Mycroft smiled, once more moving the bow down until it was skimming over Greg's buttocks.

[Text From: Sally Donovan

To: Sherlock Holmes

No, I meant do you really want to be in the pool?]

'God, Myc.'

'Did I say you could speak?' Mycroft demanded, giving Greg's right cheek a light slap.

Greg grunted. 'S-sorry.'

'Better but you must be punished for your insolence.' He paused before asking, 'Ready for a harder smack?'

'Yes, sir.'

Mycroft nodded even though Greg couldn't see him and put his left hand on Greg's shoulder. He gave him a quick squeeze before drawing the bow back and smacking Greg harder than before.

A slap rang out and Greg groaned loudly, nearly falling forward but being held up by Mycroft's hand.

'Again?'

Greg nodded.

Mycroft whipped his other cheek, leaving a nice red strip against Greg's pale skin. The DI grunted again but didn't flinch, just breathed through his nose. Mycroft whipped him four times in succession, two smacks to each cheek.

Greg fell forward, landing on his hands and groaning loudly.

'Okay, love?' Mycroft asked.

'Y-yes, sir.'

'How does it feel?'

'Fucking fantastic.'

Mycroft smiled and poked the tip of the bow between Greg's cheeks, rubbing up and down his crack. Greg bit his lip and whimpered, forehead pressed to the carpet.

'Ah, ah,' Mycroft said and dragged him up. Greg allowed Mycroft to push him against one of the windows, hands above his head, legs spread. 'Didn't you say something about wanting to be fucked against a window?'

'Uh... uh-huh,' Greg nodded.

Mycroft smiled and drew an arm around Greg's chest, rubbing the bow's horsehair against the DI's dripping shaft.

[Text From: Sherlock Holmes

To: Sally Donovan

Yes.

SH]

'What do you want, Gregory?' Mycroft breathed against his ear, suit pressed into his boyfriend's back. He thrust his crotch forward, trapped cock nudging Greg's red arse.

'Y-you.'

'Me?'

'Yes.'

'Hmm... do you think you've received enough punishment?'

'God no,' Greg said before licking his lips. He turned to face Mycroft, mouths millimetres from each other. 'Sir.'

Mycroft smiled and grabbed his chin, pulling Greg forward. Their lips met in a fierce, wet kiss, Greg groaning as Mycroft swiped his tongue along his bottom lip. Mycroft forced his lips open and plundered Greg's mouth, claiming the DI as his own in that one simple gesture.

Their kissing was sloppy, wet, very loud as Mycroft forced Greg against the window, the cold glass making Greg gasp.

'The noises you make,' Mycroft whispered, peppering kisses along Greg's jaw. 'What they do to me.' He licked down Greg's neck, sinking his teeth into Greg's shoulder before whipping the DI on the thigh.

Greg grunted, legs feeling weak as Mycroft pulled back. He landed a few more blows against Greg's back, his arse, before digging the tip of the bow into Greg's back. He raked down hard, leaving a deep, red line down the DI's spine.

'Fuck, Mycroft.'

'Again?'

'Yes, please.'

Mycroft raked the bow down Greg's back and soon there were half a dozen lines, Greg's skin stinging pleasantly and making his cock ache. The pain, the knowledge that he was at the mercy of Mycroft, had Greg feeling light headed and more aroused than ever before.

'Fuck, I need you, please.'

'On your knees, I need lubricant.'

Greg turned and dropped to the floor, looking up at Mycroft with hungry, lust-filled eyes. Mycroft moved slowly, tucking the bow under one arm as he undid his belt. Greg was close to drooling when Mycroft finally pulled his cock out, stroking his shaft a few times before grabbing Greg by the back of the head.

Greg opened his mouth wide and groaned when Mycroft sunk into his mouth, quickly burying himself up to the base of his cock. His ginger pubic hair tickled Greg's nose and cut off his air supply but Mycroft pulled back before thrusting back in.

Breathing through his nose, Greg reached up to grab Mycroft's hips, sucking back greedily and hollowing his cheeks.

'I'm going to whip you,' Mycroft warned a second before slamming the wood into Greg's arse.

The DI jumped but kept his jaw relaxed so he didn't hurt Mycroft, the sharp sting and the cock in his mouth making him, if possible, even harder than before.

'I didn't say you could use your hands, Gregory,' Mycroft chided. He grabbed Greg's hands, lifting them above his head and holding his wrists together with one hand. The other came back to Greg's head, fingers fisting in the DI's grey hair and pulling him forward, the bow digging into the back of his head.

Greg groaned as Mycroft fucked his mouth, cock hitting the back of his throat and cutting off oxygen. Greg just breathed through his nose when Mycroft pulled out, swirling his tongue around the head of Mycroft's cock and tasting pre-come.

'God, Gregory,' Mycroft moaned, digging the tip of the bow into Greg's thigh.

'Mmf,' Greg replied, sucking back hard, Mycroft drooping slightly.

Suddenly Mycroft was pulling out, cock falling from Greg's mouth with a wet pop. Greg groaned as he was pulled to his feet and turned, once more made to press his hands against the window.

Mycroft whipped Greg's arse quickly, the DI's knees threatening to buckle. And then Mycroft was dropping the bow and sinking to his knees, hands caressing Greg's burning arse softly. His tongue lapped at Greg's hole, the older man groaning as Mycroft sunk his tongue right into his entrance.

Greg couldn't help but thrust back and Mycroft gripped his arse, licking at his hole and fucking Greg with his tongue.

'M-Myc... n-need... you,' Greg whimpered.

Mycroft stood back up and rubbed Greg's arse before grabbing the DI's chin and making him twist to exchange heated kisses.

'Okay?' Mycroft murmured.

'Please, just fuck me,' Greg begged, too desperate to worry about being punished.

'Oh, Gregory,' Mycroft smiled and grabbed his cock. He eased into Greg's tight entrance, forcing the DI's legs further apart and bending him so he could be fucked.

Greg groaned loudly. 'Jesus Christ.'

[Text From: Sally Donovan

To: Sherlock Holmes

Okay then, you're in.]

Mycroft didn't start slow; he went straight into long, hard thrusts, burying himself into his boyfriend again and again. He wrapped one hand around Greg's cock and stroked in time with his thrusts, snapping his hips to get at Greg's prostate.

Greg tried to hold out, really he did. But the subbing and whipping and face-fucking and rimming and...

...he came with a loud shout, going weak and falling. Mycroft held him up, continuing to fuck Greg through his climax, the DI just whimpering and letting himself go limp.

Mycroft tipped over the edge, coming long and hard inside his boyfriend. Both men panted heavily as Mycroft slipped out and slowly lowered Greg to the floor.

Back pressed to the window, Mycroft drew Greg in softly, brushing his hair from his sweaty face.

'Greg?'

'Ngh...'

'You okay?'

'Ye...' Greg swallowed, trying to get his tongue to work as his mind continued to roll about in a hazy bliss. 'Ya-ye-yeah...' he finally managed to gurgle, making Mycroft smile.

'Sleep, love,' he whispered and kissed Greg softly.

Greg had already nodded off.

{oOo}

'Hey, Sally.'

'Who's this?'

'Pft, nice way to say hi to a mate.'

'... Brittney?'

'Brittney Ryan, in the flesh... well, on the phone, anyway.'

'What's up, Brit? Need some more help on a case?'

'Ha, ha, you're a riot, Sal.'

'I don't have all day.'

'Working for Lestrade's made you sullen.'

'Has not.'

'Has.'

'What are we, twelve?'

'Maybe.'

'Brittney...'

'So I've heard on the grapevine that those Holmes boys have finally lost it.'

'That's old news.'

'And this war they have going?'

'Well that's fairly new.'

'And...?'

'You can bet on either team, Mystrade or Johnlock, or a tie.'

'What?'

'Mycroft and Lestrade make Mystrade, John and Sherlock make Johnlock.'

'Oh, right.'

'That really wasn't complicated.'

'Shut it, woman.'

'I take that to mean you want in?'

'Yes.'

'Apologise for acting like a prat and I might just consider it.'

'... fine, fine, I apologise.'

'Good. Now what team?'

'Mystrade.'

'Yes! That old woman is so going down.'

'Have you lost it?'

'Maybe.'

'Ha, well, I gotta go, crime doesn't solve its self.'

'And you won't solve it either.'

'Oh, give that girl a medal, she's amazingly hilarious.'

'Bye, Brittney.'

'Seeya, Sal.'

{oOo}

[Text From: Unknown Number

To: Sally Donovan

Team Mystrade, dear Sergeant.

MH]

Sherlock was in 'thinking mode' and needed something to do as his brain tried to process the information he had received. He paced for a bit, threw a pillow, and licked the back of John's neck before finally settling on pulling out his violin.

He stood with it in his slim fingers, plucking at the strings as he stared at the wall. A few minutes later he turned to take his bow–

– and froze.

John was sitting in his armchair, new laptop (courtesy of Mycroft Holmes) on his knees and a mug of tea warming his hands. 'Sherlock?'

Sherlock continued to stare at his bow.

'Sherlock? Hello?'

Suddenly Sherlock grabbed a newspaper, wrapped it around the bow, and threw the entire thing out the open window. John stared as his boyfriend fell onto the couch, curling up and clutching his violin to his chest.

'Sherlock?'

The genius began plucking the strings, glaring at the wall and ignoring John completely.

'Erm...' John said before shrugging and going back to his blog. Sherlock scowled all night.

[Email To: Multiple Contacts

From: SallyDonovan(at)metpolice(dot)org(dot)uk

Holmes brothers are onto the Pool and onboard so the bet continues! Currently it stands as thus; Johnlock: 4. Mystrade: 5. Tie: 1. Us Mystraders are winning!

Spread the word, people! And by people I mean Dimmock, you loud mouthed SOB. You'd better hope Mycroft Holmes doesn't have me fired.

Author's Note: Information about the violin bow came from Wikipedia. Not a reliable source, I know, but tough cookies. Also, a woman named Eos Chater played the violin parts in The Hound of the Baskervilles and taught Benedict Cumberbatch how to hold a violin. I am now in love with Bond.

Remember, if you want to be in the story, leave me a name to put in and I'll make sure you appear!

Oh, and umbrellaaddict: if you could get back to me with a last name, that would be helpful :)

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}