N is for Need
John needed Sherlock, there was something in Sherlock that just made John's body crave him and respond to the slightest of things. This is fine when they were alone in the safety of 221B, but anywhere else and it just inappropriate. John wished his body would listen to him, but it seemed to only exist for Sherlock. Sometimes he wished it wouldn't, his life would be a lot easier.
John was at the surgery one day. He had finally finished explaining to a overprotective mother that it really was just a cold her baby had, and that as long as the play-doh was non toxic he would be fine, he quickly checked his phone before sending for the next patient.
4 new messages.
Bored-SH
Very bored-SH
We may need a new toaster-SH
Come home I need you-SH
John rolled his eyes and tapped out a quick reply.
I'm at work-JW He pressed the buzzer to call his next patient in, immediately his phone buzzed again.
So?-SH
My patients need me-JW
I need you-SH
There was a knock at the door.
'Come in' The door opened and in came a little old lady.
'Hello doctor'
'Hi Mrs Rogers is this about you hip?' he asked in his best doctorly tone as she took a seat opposite his desk.
'Yes it's still playing up, just the other day I was out with my son Peter and I could barely move' She continued to tell him about her hip when his phone buzzed again. He dug it out of his pocket and placed it on top of his notes, which were located on his lap, so it was hidden from view.
Are you hard for me?-SH
John tried not to blush. All his instincts told him to ignore Sherlock but his body had other ideas so when he received another text he couldn't help but look.
I'm hard for you, I'm touching myself and imagining it's you, thinking of all the things we could do if you were here-SH
John tried to stop himself, but all the blood in his brain rushed south.
'Are you okay doctor you are looking quite flushed?' Dam, he had totally forgotten about Mrs Rogers and her hip.
'Yes fine' He squeaked, then coughed and tried to lower his voice 'fine'. Luckily he could hide his erection under the desk, but he wrapped his white coat around himself just to make sure Mrs Rogers couldn't see.
'Are you sure your okay Doctor? Is there something in my notes'
And if things couldn't get any worse his phone buzzed again.
One picture received.
It was of Sherlock wearing only his pyjama bottoms which were currently round his knees, back arched, eyes closed, mouth open, hand...
He tried to snap himself out of it, but he couldn't.
'Could you excuse me for a sec?' He jumped of his chair making sure the notes covered his problem. 'Here, read this I won't be a moment' He threw some leaflet at Mrs Rogers, god knows what it was.
He ran to the bathroom closed the door behind himself and freed himself, he stared at the picture Sherlock had sent and began to stroke himself, luckily it didn't take long before he came in his hand. He allowed himself a few minutes to compose himself before returning to his patient.
'Right, now where were we?' he beamed, Mrs Rogers was flicking through the leaflet John had given her.
'This is very interesting reading doctor' it was about erectile dysfunction. John could only laugh.