Morning pokes its fingers through the chinks in the curtains of Sherlock's room. I stretch and yawn and wonder what the time is. Sherlock is curled in at my back and he moves and mumbles as my waking disturbs him. There is a ringing noise, I realise this is what has woken me. It is the phone.

I lean out of bed and fumble in the wreckage of our clothes and locate the phone. I look at the screen, there is no caller ID but I recognise the number, Mycroft.

"Hello, John," his voice is so smooth and he sounds like he knows just what I was up to last night, I find myself blushing.

"Hi Mycroft, erm, what can we do for you?" Sherlock lifts his head from the pillow with startling speed, eyes wide open.

"Well, it seems that your ghost is in Special Ops." He chuckles, I don't get it.

"Oh? What do you mean?"

"Well, we have Jamie McMurray in a secure government house but he's seen the ghost again. This spectre must have damned good tracking skills."

"He's seen it again?" Sherlock snatches the phone from me. I raise my eyebrows and lift my hands before they're caught in the violence of the theft. I flop back on the bed. "Yes, I thought that too. Right. Thanks. Yes, no, I haven't worn it yet. Neither has John. Yes. Ok. Thank you." I grin; Sherlock's voice is dripping with contempt. He drops the phone on the duvet as though it's something hideous and flops back next to me.

"How do you feel about Yorkshire?" He turns his head to me, expression enquiring.

"Yorkshire? You want me to go to Yorkshire? Why?" He sighs and stretches his arms up and his feet down.

"Because there's something missing John. And I think I know what it is but I need the proof. And I won't get it, but you might." I frown.

"Proof? Of what?"

"There's something in Freddy's past, something about which you need to get Sharon to tell you. I can't find any evidence, but it must be there!" He leaps out of bed with a jump. "Get up quickly!" I protest but he pulls me to my feet. Seeing my lack of clothing he throws me the gown Mycroft bought and I obediently put it on. He's putting on his own on and laughing. He grabs me to him and kisses me passionately, one hand under the robe, stroking, teasing. I sigh into the kiss. Then I hear a mechanical click.

Sherlock's other arm is out and he's taken a picture of us on the phone. Before I can say anything he releases me and sends the picture on. I shake my head and snatch the handset.

"Not to Mycroft, Sherlock. Tell me you didn't send that to Mycroft!" The picture shows clearly where his hand is and the look on my face, my entire posture, shows how much I'm enjoying it. I sigh and check the sent messages. Yes, he sent it to Mycroft.

He is grinning and he kisses me again and runs away, out of the room.

"Pack! You need to pack!" he shouts. "Just a day-bag! Not overnight!"

So it's 10.30am and I'm on the train. Sharon's going to pick me up at the other end and it's going to take me about three hours, apparently. Sherlock had booked the ticket online and handed me the mobile when he'd already dialled Sharon's number.

"Oh it'll be really nice to see you John," she sounded genuinely happy to hear from me. "Are you sure you can't stay overnight?" Sherlock was shaking his head so I told her no.

"Why am I not staying over? It's a hell of a journey to do in a day." He looks over the top of the laptop which he is switching off and packing into the bag for me to take.

"Because I need you back here." He says simply, raising an eyebrow like it's the most obvious thing ever. I nod.

"Oh, right then. Ok."

Half an hour later he hands me my laptop bag as I get into the taxi.

"Keep your phone on." He says firmly as he checks my pocket a little rather too enthusiastically to check I have the mobile in question.

"Why?" I stop his frantic frisking of my pockets and show him the phone in the laptop bag.

"Because I might want to get in touch with you." He shakes his head like I'm so stupid he can't believe it.

"Sherlock, you don't have a phone to call me from." I say this slowly. He blinks at me and produces a shiny new phone from his trouser pocket.

"Yes I have."

"When did you get that? Where did you get that from?" he grins.

"Daddy, birthday present. I've put my number in your phone."

"Oh. Right. Good, that's good. I can let you know when I'm on my way home then." He nods and puts it carefully back in the same pocket; I can see he's determined not to lose this one.

Anyway, I'm on the train. Bored. Not that I'm going to shoot a wall, you understand but I've been playing on YouTube and Googled Sherlock for about an hour and despite his fascinating website, now I'm bored again. My fellow passengers do not inspire any interest either. Two older ladies sit opposite to me and a young woman is in the double seat across the aisle. Further down are two men who might be together but I've even stopped trying to guess.

From the laptop bag my phone beeps. I pick it up and unlock the screen and it's Sherlock. My heart beat picks up a little and I smile.

"How's the journey? Anything exciting happening? SH" I text him back.

"Nope. Dull as dishwater. Wish you were here. JW" A moment later the phone beeps again, one of the elderly ladies looks up from her 'Take a Break' magazine.

"I wish I was there too. I need distracting. You could distract me. SH" I look at the phone. Oh god, not more holes in the wall, Mrs. Hudson will kill us. I tap out a hasty reply.

"Sherlock, don't shoot anything. JW" I put the phone back on the table and get back to looking out of the window, watching England stream by in a hurry of leafless trees and drab fields. The phone beeps.

"What I'd really like to be doing is making you nice and " I gape at the phone. He didn't just say that. I read it again, not even trying to fool myself that this doesn't make me feel a little excited.

"Sorry? You're not really initiating phone sex are you? JW" I put the phone down. It beeps again.

"Yes I am. I'd like you hard, desperate and begging me to fuck you. SH" Jesus. I'm aware that my nipples feel super sensitive through my jumper and I am half hard just from these words. I cough and the elderly lady from before looks over and smiles. I try to smile back and shift in my seat. I'll murder him when I get home. Hoping to stop the game I send a text back.

"Sherlock. Not the time for that. Thanks, JW" There is a longer pause this time, maybe he's listened to my warning I think. I have to confess part of me feels a bit disappointed he gave up so easily. The phone beeps, it sounds louder this time.

"So, you're not getting hard now then? Thinking about me sucking your cock? Because I doubt that John. SH" The words go straight into my veins and rush to my groin where they proceed to give me a raging hard on. I sit up slightly and pull at the knees of my jeans, hoping to relieve the uncomfortable tightness of the fabric. The phone beeps again without me even replying.

"Did I tell you I love how you taste? And how slippery and soft your skin is when you're stiff. Yum SH" Oh not the bloody smileys again. But the thought of him thinking those words, never mind writing them down and sending them brings the image of him, eyes open, lips closed around me, into my head with startling clarity that I might just moan.

"Are you ok dear?" The older lady opposite stops her reading and puts her hand on the table towards me. "Only you're very flushed." I nod and rub my hand over my face.

"Yeah, thanks. I think I've got a cold coming." I manage a shaky smile. I pick up the phone and a message arrives while I look at it.

"Are you really hard John? Do you think there'll be that bead of spunk on the tip which I like to lick off? Would you like to be in my throat or..? SH" I think I must make a small involuntary noise. He used the word spunk, good god. It's such a schoolboy word but I can imagine that upper class growl as he says it. I put my face in my hands, trying to steady my breathing. The pulse of my blood is hard now, to the point of drowning out all the noise, the train on the tracks, the other passengers. Beep beep.

"Personally, I'd like it if you fucked me. Hard and a bit brutally. Some hair pulling. I liked the hair pulling. And you could tell me how tight I am, how much I belong to you. Open me up John, make me yours. SH" Oh my god. I can't even see anything now but the image he has planted in my head. Him on the bed, legs splayed wide, wanting me, ready for me to take him. I glance at the old ladies, both just reading their magazines unaware that opposite them is man being driven mad with lust by his incorrigible boyfriend's wilful abuse of the mobile network. I tap a reply.

"Yes Sherlock, am now as hard as a pole. Thanks. What am I supposed to do about that? JW" I try to distract my body, sip my British Rail tea, cold. Yuk. I look out of the window trying hard to avoid the fact that I am so turned on and I'm in public and it's just bloody wrong. The phone beeps, I look at it accusingly.

"Well, you could always go into the bathroom and imagine it's me? SH" I roll my eyes. Oh god I might have to, this problem doesn't seem to be going away. It beeps again.

"Oh, let me know if you do decide to wank it off. I like watching you do that. This is nearly as good as watching. SH" I stand up, clutching my jacket over me in what I hope is a nonchalant fashion but granny is on her feet too.

"Ooh dear, you do look ill. Are you alright? Maybe you should go to the bathroom." I nod, wordlessly and hope that my state of arousal is easy to mistake for a cold.

"Here, take these." She hands me a small plastic bag of tissues. The situation is so ridiculous that I almost laugh. I use my free hand to accept the tissues. I grab the phone with the same hand and nod my thanks. I flee to the bathroom. Thank god it's empty.

The cubicle is small and I lock the door hastily. I look about me, relatively clean because we've only just begun the journey. I look at myself in the mirror. I do look ill, my eyes glance to my jeans, ok not so ill. I lock the door, check it twice. Beep beep

"Are you in the bathroom yet john? I want to hear you come for me. SH" I slump down against the wall, propping myself on the washbasin and text him back.

"In bathroom. What am I supposed to be doing?" The answer is almost immediate.

"Unfasten your jeans, pull down your shorts, touch yourself for me. One hand. Text with the other. SH" I do as he says, one trembling hand unbuttons my jeans, frees my hard on. The weight of blood and flesh as it is released is overwhelming.

"Touch myself?" beep beep.

"Yes, softly, rub the tip with your thumb, you know how." I stroke my fingers lightly over my hard cock. I imagine those hands are his, long and delicate on my sensitive skin. I flick my thumb and moan. Beep beep.

"Are you moaning john, are you saying my name yet?" God, I groan as I read this last message. Beep beep.

"Harder john, squeeze at the base and pull along the length. Touch yourself for me." The words inflame me as nearly as much as the actions he has commanded. I fist myself, hard like he wants me to. Beep beep.

"Does this feel good john? Don't answer me. I'm imagining you now, moaning and wanking off, thinking of me. Lick your palm." Ah god. He's trying to kill me. Ex army doctor found dead with stiffy in British rail toilets, I can see the headline now. I lick my palm, tasting my body scent on my skin; it reminds me of him now.

When my wet fingers touch my hard flesh I hear myself moan again.

"Harder, harder. Come for me john. I want to hear you coming." I am frantic, rhythm gone, all modesty or awareness of the outside world gone now as I focus on my hand and my cock. I am clutching the phone for dear life. It rings in my hand. I barely register Sherlock's name on the ID, I click the call, slow my hand, press the phone to my ear.

"john." it's just his voice. Just him saying my name but I can't help myself. I come hard, twitching and thrusting into my palm.

"Oh god, Sherlock oh god." There is just the sound of him breathing at the other end. I pant my breath out, trying to calm down. When I have regained some composure I laugh. "Hi." I say. He chuckles.

"Hi, having fun? Who'd have thought public transport could be so invigorating?" I laugh again. I hear someone speaking in the background. What? Where is he?

"Sherlock..." I begin but he interrupts me.

"Mycroft says hello john." Mycroft? Oh god.

"You're with Mycroft? Have you been with Mycroft since..?"

"Mmm. I was bored." I sigh. Surely Mycroft will know what we've been... what Sherlock has just made me...? "Mycroft said I should text you the list of questions I'd like you to ask Sharon. Did you get them all down?" His voice is teasing. I laugh.

"Yes, I think they're committed to memory."

"Good. Right must be off. Have fun in Yorkshire!" he chuckles.

"Bye, see you later." I switch the phone off and start to clean myself up. It's got to be one of my more interesting train journeys.

No time for a long chapter! Too bloody busy at the moment but didn't want to leave you dry so I hope you liked this!

The Baker St Irregulars! Sorry I've been too busy to write: PrincessNala and Peachsilk Darmed (do hope you're ok babes) Clubba Bear, Tasty- Kate ,2cajuman2, Tanya Zsa Zsa, Munchiees!, Aelfric's cat , Nellyington, mrs winny, Despairandcupcakechild!, Mouserjb4 ,Tillif and Harpyquin and Jazzysatindoll,thegeekyprincess and Flabagash! Cold a bit better but need tiem to write! Argh. Hope you enjoyed this!

Love you OHOB and Reggie Cx