So here's another chapter. I love reviews, even if your saying I'm rubbish. Also, sex.


John and Sherlock had had sex fourteen times within the space of their two month relationship. This was the fifteenth.

The case had been one of a kind, for the yard, but less so for Sherlock. It had been a week, a trek to the home counties, several nights at Barts, and a chase along the Southbank, amongst other things, that had resulted in one very glorious Sherlock Holmes, and a John Watson so hard that it was all he could do to position himself as often as possible under a newspaper, or behind a handy lamp.

Sherlock, of course, knew all of this. Over the few weeks it had been since they had first had sex, he had developed a favourable ability to detect the sexual desires of a certain John Watson; he could practically sniff him out, and when he did, which was often, how he loved the results. But now, as the boys crossed Baker Street, Sherlock had just one thing to concentrate on.

With all the gusto of a Consulting Detective within reach of a John Watson, Sherlock mounted the steps to 221, threw open the door and dragged John inside.

'Now Doctor, what to do with you?'

Sherlock loved seeing John squirm. It hadn't exactly taken John long to adjust to the new side of Sherlock on display. He was effortlessly so-damned-sexy, and the confidence he bore in his 'usual' life would spill out into this 'secret' one; he could perfectly master the art of brain numbing seduction within a second's notice.

The taller man pressed the Doctor against the door of 221, majestically grinding into him with the force of sixty Met. officers. John groaned with exceedingly-loud appreciation.

'Oh, I know,' Sherlock moved his hands slowly, one found its way to the collar of John's shirt, and the other slipped up the back of it, stroking the Doctor's shoulder blades. John brushed his lips briefly against Sherlock's, then pulled out of reach, burying his head in Sherlock's neck. Sherlock hummed with gratitude.

'Where shall we start?' The Detective smiled with all the smugness of any Holmes.

'Hmmm, Sherlock,'

John's answer wasn't all that detailed, you know, nothing specific. But ,Sherlock said-

'Well, if you insist,'

-before enthusiastically unbuttoning the Doctor's shirt.

'…Every surface, John Watson, every inch of this flat. The sofa, the floor, against the bookshelves, John. I am going to fuck you so silly you won't being using words longer than two syllables for a week-'

'A month,'

'-a month. The shower, the coffee table, the bathroom floor, John,'

John shivered as Sherlock brought his shirt down his arms.

'But for now, against the front door, will do don't you think?'

John roamed Sherlock's hot mouth in reply. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, slipping his tongue into the Detective's mouth, sucking on his bottom lip, nipping at the skin of his neck and grinning all the while.

It was Sherlock's turn to groan - and John's trousers were off.

'Haaah, Sherlock,' John murmured blissfully, dragging out the syllables .

Sherlock lowered his hands on John's back, lifting him up the door. He pushed John further against it, and it creaked quietly. John was a foot off the floor now, hands resting on Sherlock's shoulders, busy lips firmly pressed against his lovers'. Sherlock began slowing grinding into John's clothed erection once more; licking his chest and neck and collar bones. Lightly pulling down his boxers, the detective became pleased with the sight. The shorter man hung above the younger one, every desire welling in his eyes, and all blood flowing south.

Sherlock's hand fell to John's erection. He whispered in his lover's ear sweetly. Then…not so sweetly. His long fingers remained motionless, teasing the most violent groans from his Doctor, kissing him for a moment, before unzipping his own trousers, and letting them fall a little.

John bit down into Sherlock's neck as the Detective swung his hips into John's again. Their raging cocks separated only by the cotton of Sherlock's bulging underwear. John reached for Sherlock's pants, tugging them down with hurried want, and Sherlock's erection brushed against John's throbbing cock; both men fell down the wall a little in reinforced heat .

John hissed, as Sherlock began using cold hands to spread his legs. They smoothed over the unexplored skin of John's thighs, lifting them to their highest height, resting the back of John's knees against Sherlock's forearms, which found their place on either of John's butt cheeks.

The two men 'hmmm'ed simultaneously.

'Ready, Doctor?' purred the detective.

John nodded quickly, dragging Sherlock underneath him, and ferociously kissing the thin, panting man. John dug his fingers into Sherlock's shoulders as he was slowly entered. Sherlock moved enticingly slowly and John called out, repeatedly, loudly, and with eyes clamped shut. Sherlock felt everything at once, the heat and the tightness and the pressure overwhelming him completely. He thrust more violently into his lover, causing the door to shake suggestively and several passers-by to look up from their pavement journey.

John's mouth felt open as the wild man before him pounded in to him again, and again, and again. His legs began to shake, and Sherlock wriggled a little, open them further and grinding into the man. Sherlock filled John up with spectacular fashion, and John hissed passionately as he felt the base of Sherlock's raging cock hit his sensitive skin, and the man's erection grew painfully further, inside his shell-shocked body.

With their free hands, both men reached over the various limbs in their way, and began to stroke John's penis.

'Oh holy fuck, Sherlock Holmes, Jesus Christ, I bloody love it' John cried out. He had given up on subtlety a long time ago. Which was a shame, as the elderly women shuffling past looked quite faint when she glanced away from the rattling door of 221.

The look of complete blissful oblivion upon the doctor's face made Sherlock howl. He was now so close to ear-splitting brain-washing orgasm, that he was jumping 8 inches in the air with every thrust inside his lover. His every present goal of sinking his throbbing penis inside a writhing John Watson, as far as humanly, fuck it, heavenly, possible, was… well, important to him.

So he maintained his speed and watched as his friend's face swam with delight.

'Sherlock, pleeease' John cried.

The men's hands worked faster on John cock, stroking gently, then tugging as if there were no god-damned tomorrow.

John inhaled sharply, and came spectacularly. Flinging his arms over Sherlock's shirted shoulders and breathing into his neck, he felt Sherlock pound against him one more time before collapsing under him in a pile of limbs and sex. The two men lay entangled together, in a way that should have been uncomfortable but wasn't, at the foot of the door. John naked and Sherlock entirely clothed, they lay quite happily until a lock clinked in the door and a naked John had to slow Mrs Hudson on her path to the kitchen, while Sherlock ran about looking for:

1) A mop

2) Some clothes for his boyfriend (but not really; he was planning on hiding all of them).


Thanks for reading this chapter. Mwahahaaaa (evil laugh). Please leave your suggestions, thoughts, ideas in a review. You guys are my favourites.