It started with a jolt. The electric pulsed through Sherlock's feet and made his toes curl. The shocks were rapid and unrelenting, and it took a great deal of self control for the detective to stay where he was. He was panting in a matter of seconds, unable to predict the pre-recorded pattern and squealing as the electricity coursed through him. Eyes squeezed shut, he could sense John's gaze on his body as he shuddered and convulsed in the doorway. John had set it so he had time to catch his breath for a few seconds before the impulses started again, but after a few minutes these pauses became shorter and fewer. A particularly long surge of violent electric shot through his body, and after a few seconds, his control wore out, and he lifted a foot off of the copper plate to try and gain some relief. As soon as he moved, there was the sound of the power box being switched off, and John's voice rang out across the room.

"Keep your foot where it's supposed to be, Sherlock."

The detective, panting heavily, mumbled an apology and slowly and very reluctantly replaced his foot. His nerves were on end and his whole body felt sensitive. He couldn't help but growl with frustration as he watched the doctor reach down to switch the box back on. It was no easier to handle despite his ability to remember the pattern; it simply made him tense up more as he counted the seconds before the next shock. It was nothing like his previous experience with electricity. Then he'd been on top of John, kissing and touching him, and he'd felt hot and bothered and so strangely aroused. Now he was a little cold, and shaking and jittery, yelping as the impulse jolted through him and made his muscles feel weak. His entire body was clenched and tense, and oddly more than anything he just wanted John to be near him. The sensation of unbearable electric almost made him feel like a small child who couldn't quite explain what hurt. He just wanted to be comforted until it went away. He looked up at the doctor to gauge his reaction, and immediately a blush began to appear across his prominent cheekbones.

John's gaze was unconsciously intense. His lips parted slightly, he had absent-mindedly leant forward in his chair a little, and was watching with a concentrated frown as Sherlock writhed and whimpered in front of him. His tongue licked a wet line across his bottom lip and his hands gripped his spread thighs. The doctor seemed to be struggling to stop himself from switching the thing off altogether; it made the detective more upset to know that John was as unhappy about punishing him as he was about receiving it. Catching Sherlock's eye, John leaned back slightly, his eyes flickering leisurely across his submissive's entire body before resuming eye contact.

Without warning, the plates beneath Sherlock's feet shot an incredible electric pulse straight through the detective's skin and his mouth dropped open, unable even to make a sound for the first second. It felt like a million pin-pricks, all jolting through his body at the same time – and it wouldn't stop. There was no pause, no break. Sherlock pushed against the doorframe so the balls of his feet were locked right against the plates, disabling himself from moving without considerable force. Finding his voice again, his words were mostly incoherent:

"Argh!Ohmy-pleaseuhhh..." He was loud, inarticulate and mostly just making a lot of noise. It was endless and having to endure it was unbelievable. The feeling wasn't even pain – it was more like a level of uncomfortable that he had never experienced before. When his shouting subsided into growls of frustration, John spoke.

"Why did you come in here?"

Sherlock couldn't believe the doctor was forcing him to answer questions in his state. The electricity in his feet felt so sharp that he was close to moving again and he so badly didn't want to start from the beginning. Teeth gritted and breathing heavily, he had to force every word out of his chest.

"Iwas-argh! Curious, Sir"

John raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I was hiding something from you?"

Sherlock's head leant against his locked arm, sweating and still growling with horrific discomfort.

"Yes and I'm sorry just please-"

"Was it worth it?" The doctor interrupted, his voice rising a little above Sherlock's noise. He could feel himself becoming angry again, heat rising in his chest. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. He'd had a feeling Sherlock would have disobeyed him sooner or later, his curiosity was bound to get the better of him. But he had so wanted his submissive to be able to accept his authority naturally, without questioning the reason behind it.

"No Sir!" Sherlock stammered out, his voice desperate. He was beginning to reach his limit, the constant electricity making staying in place so unbearable that it was becoming hard to breathe.

"Do I have to get a lock? Do I have to physically keep you out so I know you'll obey me?" John could sense Sherlock was almost there, his legs were shaking quite badly and his voice was strained. His muscles would soon relax automatically, and he'd fall through no fault of his own. The doctor just needed a few more seconds to get his point across.

"No! Please I want you to trust me" Sherlock's voice was shaking and hoarse, his words spilling in a hurried mess from his lips. "Please..."

The electricity stopped, as instantly as it had started. The circuit had run its course and switched off automatically. It took the detective a few seconds to realise, given his state, but then John's arms was around his waist, pulling down a little to encourage him to place his heels back on the floor. It felt odd to stand properly, the balls of his feet sore and aching. Sherlock was grateful for the arm around him – he wasn't sure he would have kept his balance otherwise. Panting heavily, the detective rested his head on John's shoulder.

"Shh, it's alright. Good boy..." The doctor soothed, using his other hand to grasp Sherlock's arm and prise his fingers off of the door frame. "Let go, it's over. You're forgiven."

His arms hanging limply by his sides, Sherlock felt completely drained. Mumbling apologies into John's neck, he could feel tears welling in his eyes and a lump rising in his throat.

John stroked the back of his head gently. "Are you okay?"

The detective nodded, but there was still panic in his voice. "I don't want you to put a lock on the door," he mumbled tearfully. "I'll stay out, all by myself, I promise!"

"Shh, it's okay, don't get upset." John was more than aware that Sherlock could easily unpick a lock in a matter of seconds. It was obviously the principle of it – the notion that John didn't trust him.

"No lock for now. But you need to understand that you must obey me. Regardless of your curiosity, or anything else for that matter. You are under my control, and you do as I say, understand?"

"Yes, Sir," Sherlock replied, his arm reaching round his own waist to interlock his fingers with John's. The doctor kissed him slowly and gently, before pulling back suddenly.

"What?" The detective asked, a frown forming over his features.

"You've still got soapy lips" John replied with a laugh. "Come on, I'll make a cup of tea."

A few hours later, and Sherlock was asleep curled up on John's lap, breathing deeply and frowning ever so slightly. It was rare sight, and John savoured every second of his submissive's chest rising and falling against his. It was odd to imagine that only hours ago, he had walked up the steps of 221B expecting to find Sherlock nose-deep in a case file and in his 'I-am-oblivious-to-everything' mode. Strange, how easily his own plans and intentions would immediately be cast aside depending on the mood of the beautiful and unpredictable detective. And despite the drama it caused... the doctor wouldn't have had it any other way.