Warnings for gun play and BDSM including someone getting hit with a riding crop.

"Ah, Mr. Holmes. How good of you to join us."

Sherlock paused just inside the door to his flat, taking in the sight that greeted him. John was seated in his chair – Sherlock's chair, not John's – wearing a vaguely militaristic ensemble consisting of grey slacks, matching grey shirt, dark navy blue tie, well-shined black shoes, and a crisp navy blue blazer. Molly stood at parade rest beside him, clad in a version of the outfit she'd worn for John's morgue-sex fantasy – the tailored white lab coat, buttoned at her waist over a tight black mini-skirt and a navy blue push-up bra. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun, she was wearing the black stiletto heels Sherlock had purchased as a gift a few months back, her lips were a deep crimson, and – best of all – her black-rimmed glasses were perched on her nose.

He felt a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, but forced it away as John casually lifted one hand, revealing that he was holding his service revolver – unloaded and safety on, his finger carefully kept away from the trigger as he pointed it at Sherlock. "Do close the door, Mr. Holmes. Wouldn't want to disturb your landlady would we?"

He gestured negligently with the gun, and Sherlock obediently closed – and locked – the door behind him, heart thrumming with excitement. Ever since John and Molly had moved in, Mrs. Hudson was a bit less casual about just dropping in, but it wouldn't do to be careless. "Might I ask what this is about?" he said, once again fighting to hold back a delighted grin. Oh, his two wonderful people knew him so well, this was exactly what he might have asked for himself, given the chance! With any luck handcuffs and the riding crop would be involved.

"Hmm, let's just say that your activities as an agent for your brother haven't gone unnoticed," John said coolly. Immediately Sherlock's mind began sifting through the various scenarios John's words suggested; some sort of spy caper, an interrogation culminating in sexual 'assault' in order to coerce him to hand over whatever faux information John and Molly would pretend to demand of him. Or perhaps vengeance for some evil plot he'd thwarted, or a warning being sent to his brother…

"Miss Hooper!" John barked, interrupting Sherlock's feverish – and very, very eager – thoughts. She stepped smartly forward, her gaze still trained on Sherlock. "Do assist Mr. Holmes in removing his clothing. Wouldn't want to miss any weapons he might have tucked away here or there." John allowed his gaze to linger on Sherlock's body as he spoke, deliberately looking him over from head to foot and back again. Sherlock felt his face grow hot, and his cock definitely liked what was happening; he was half-hard and it wouldn't take much more for him to get to iron-rod status, as Molly liked to call it.

Molly managed to keep her face mostly expressionless as she approached him, but as soon as she stopped in front of him her lips twitched in a small, self-satisfied smile. Oho, so this had been her idea, had it? He would be sure to show her his appreciation just as soon as he was allowed to. For now, he simply moved his arms in order for her to slide his Belstaff off, hanging it neatly on its hook before tackling the rest of his clothing. Interestingly enough, instead of hanging his scarf with his coat, or folding it neatly with the rest of his clothing and setting in on the sofa, she instead wound it around her own neck. Apparently Miss Hooper had plans for that scarf, and Sherlock felt his flush of arousal deepen.

"Whatever it is you hope to accomplish, I can assure you, you'll not find me very cooperative," he said as Molly knelt in front of him in order to remove his shoes and socks. She surreptitiously ran her hand up the inside of one leg, and he found himself hard pressed not to haul her to her feet, grab John, and lead the way to their bedroom. But he wasn't in charge this time, a rather disconcerting – and surprisingly exciting – change of pace for the three of them.

"Your cooperation isn't required, Mr. Holmes," John said coldly. He smiled, a dangerous smile, and gestured with the unloaded pistol. "The handcuffs, Miss Hooper."

Molly jumped to her feet and hurried back to the chair. "Yes, Dr. Watson," she said, her voice a breathy octave higher than normal. Part of the role she'd assumed, or merely her own excitement coming through? Either way it went straight to Sherlock's cock, which twitched as if she were still running her hands over his bare skin. John, he noted happily, was no more immune than he was; he shifted in his seat, discreetly adjusting his own prominent erection as the two of them watched Molly bend over, one foot theatrically raised behind her as she rummaged around behind Sherlock's chair. She stood back up, a pair of Lestrade's liberated handcuffs dangling from one finger and a wicked grin curving her lips.

"Bedroom, Miss Hooper," John croaked, tearing his eyes away from her with what appeared to be a great amount of difficulty. He rose in a leisurely fashion from Sherlock's chair, his eyes trained on Sherlock's cock, and licked his lips. "Time for Mr. Holmes to learn exactly why we've joined him here this evening, hmm?" Maintaining character, he continued to hold the gun pointed at his lover while Molly snapped the cuffs over Sherlock's wrists.

"Safeword is waistcoat," she murmured as he tested the bonds. "Say it now, Sherlock, and tell me if they're too tight."

"Waistcoat," he repeated obediently, loudly enough for John to hear as well from where he now stood by the hallway entrance. "And no," he added softly, "not too tight at all. Miss Hooper."

A dimple appeared in Molly's cheek, but she showed no other sign of amusement at hearing Sherlock refer to her so formally. For tonight, she would be Miss Hooper and John would be Dr. Watson, and he would be Mr. Holmes.

It all promised to be a great deal of fun.

oOo

Ten minutes later Sherlock learned how right he'd been. He stood against the wall, with his manacled wrists held above his head and attached by a short length of chain to a pair of sturdy eye-bolts that most certainly hadn't been there when he'd untangled himself from his lovers this morning in order to reluctantly join Mycroft at the Diogenes Club for a quick little case that hadn't been worth bothering either of them about.

When he'd first been brought into the bedroom his eyes had of course zeroed in on that little improvement to the room's décor, and he'd once again been hard-pressed not to beam with delight at what his two partners had cooked up for him. He'd instead simply arched an eyebrow and commented, "Went to quite a bit of trouble for this interrogation, didn't you. My, my, you must really want answers. A pity you'll not be getting them from me." But he'd continued to study the eye-bolts, taking in the short length of chain that dangled from it, and the padded manacles that were clearly destined to replace the handcuffs he currently sported, and he salivated a bit in anticipation.

John had smiled coldly as he grabbed Sherlock by the head, tucking the unloaded gun under his chin as he forced the taller man to his knees. "Miss Hooper," the former army doctor purred as he casually unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt and shrugged out of his coat, "do show Mr. Holmes the type of incentives we have for him to tell us what we want to know."

Molly had sauntered over to him with a prim little smirk hovering over her lips, then slowly, deliberately unbuttoned her lab coat. She dropped it to the floor – earning a disapproving scowl from John, who had hung his neatly over the back of the room's single chair – then just as slowly shimmied out of her skirt, leaving her clad only in her matching navy blue set of knickers and bra. Those swiftly joined the rest of her clothes – all but Sherlock's scarf, still wrapped securely around her neck – which she didn't bother kicking out of the way as she stopped with her crotch directly in front of his mouth.

Which had suddenly become utterly devoid of saliva at the sight she'd revealed upon removal of her knickers; Miss Molly Hooper was now entirely clean shaven from armpit to ankles and everything in between – especially her sweet little snatch, the slit already glimmering with moisture. She moved closer, teasing him with her naked sex, stroking herself, gliding her fingers along her slit and eventually holding them up to his mouth. He inhaled deeply of her delicious scent, his tongue darting out to taste her but she teasingly moved her fingers away, leaving him to growl in frustration as she laughed down at him. "Ooh, he's an eager one, Dr. Watson," she said, offering her fingers to him instead.

Sherlock's growl became a stifled groan as he watched John sucking Molly's well-lubricated fingers between his lips. "Mmm," he said in agreement as he met Sherlock's frustrated gaze. "But good to know how interested he is in what we have to offer in exchange for his assistance." He gave her a little shove, not hard, just enough to move her so that her groin was directly aligned with Sherlock's waiting mouth. He darted his tongue out and managed one, two, three eager swipes before John pulled Molly back and leered down at him. "Ah-ah-ah, Mr. Holmes," he said, wagging an admonishing finger at him. "Cooperate, and Miss Hooper will be happy to allow you to continue."

Miss Hooper, it would seem, was happy to allow him to continue in spite of John's words; giving him a pout, she turned back to Sherlock and threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly to bring his mouth back to her body. "Do go on, Mr. Holmes," she cooed as he nuzzled her soft, pink flesh.

"Miss Hooper!" John's voice was a whip, and she jumped back, lower lip stuck out in an adorable pout that Sherlock longed to kiss, to suck into his mouth and nibble on. "And if I don't cooperate?" he said instead, obediently following John's script – from which Molly, it appeared, was all too eager to deviate.

"Miss Hooper? Show our 'guest' the consequences of not cooperating," John said, never removing his gaze from that of his erstwhile prisoner.

Molly turned her pout on John. "But Dr. Watson," she whined, only to yelp as John gave her ass cheek a firm smack. "Yes, Doctor," she muttered, turning to do as she'd been told. Sherlock and John both watched as she bent over – making sure that her bare ass, still tinged a hot pink from John's blow, was on prominent display – and pulled something out from under the bed.

Sherlock's cheeks were as red as her ass as she stood back up, his riding crop in her hands. The sullen expression had been replaced by eagerness, and she licked her lips as she once again met Sherlock's gaze. "Shall I demonstrate, Dr. Watson?" She whipped the crop through the air with expert ease, clearly relishing the whistling sound it made as it came within inches of Sherlock's thighs. His body quivered at the near-contact; he'd never been afraid of pain, nor had he ever particularly welcomed it, but in this moment he knew that he would come perilously close to completely losing control if Molly and John continued to tease him.

Ah, that thought had occurred to his two lovers as well; John reached down and opened the drawer to the bedside table and pulled out a toy they'd used once or twice in the past – a dark blue cock ring. As John slid it over his erection, Sherlock couldn't stifle a groan of pleasure. But John didn't allow his hand to linger more than a second or two before abruptly pulling away, no doubt struggling to maintain character.

Molly was staring at Sherlock, licking her lips and stroking the riding crop as if it was Sherlock's cock. "Now, Dr. Watson?" she asked huskily.

"Not just yet, Miss Hooper," John replied, his own voice gone a bit thicker. He cleared his throat, then reached down and once again dug his hands into Sherlock's curls, yanking him back to his feet again. He stumbled a bit, and Molly was at his other side in an instant, watching anxiously as he steadied himself but saying nothing. If either of them were waiting for him to safe-word out, they would have a long wait; he had no desire for this little entertainment to end – certainly not before Molly had given him a more…hands-on…demonstration of her expertise with his weapon of choice!

They led him over to the wall, Molly removing the handcuffs while John once again held the gun pointed at Sherlock's head. Molly gave his wrists a brisk rub, murmuring, "Will you be all right with the padded cuffs we've got for this part?" She indicated the items in question; eyes shining with one part eagerness and one part curiosity – he'd never tried anything like this before! – he simply nodded, noting that the short length of chain would allow his two shorter companions to handle him more easily, without either straining to reach his wrists or being forced to resort to clambering up on a stool and thus break the mood they'd worked so hard to create.

Once he was securely fastened, his naked buttocks resting against the flocked wallpaper, John laid the gun on the nightstand and took a seat on the edge of the bed, casually reaching down to remove his shoes and socks, then unfastening the remaining buttons on his dress shirt. "Now, Mr. Holmes, perhaps you would care to enlighten us as to your actions during the Sussex Vampire case."

Sherlock licked his lips, screwing his eyes up in pretend concentration. "Hmm, colorful name, not sure I remember…"

Thwack! The riding crop came down on his right thigh, stinging hard. He grit his teeth but allowed no sound to escape, either of pain or of pleasure, remaining entirely in character. "So, carrot and stick approach, is it?" He slanted a look at Molly calculated to rile her up. "Not very original. Even if the carrot is holding the stick, as it were."

She smirked, reaching down lightning fast to wrap her strong little hand around his cock. "Careful, Mr. Holmes. Or the 'carrot' will do some very naughty things to your 'stick'."

"Miss Hooper, do try not to damage him this early in the game," John said, sounding bored as he moved to join them, grasping her wrist and gently prying her fingers away. But he also made sure to brush his own fingers against Sherlock's straining cock, which twitched in response to the delicate touches. Both his tormentors grinned as Sherlock let out a groan, partially out of frustration – well, no, entirely out of frustration, actually.

John leaned his shoulder against the wall, gliding his fingers up from Sherlock's cock, up his abdomen, his chest, his clavicle, grazing his cheekbone gently as he said, "So, Mr. Holmes. The Sussex Vampire case. Tell us about it."

Sherlock yawned deliberately in his 'interrogator's' face. "Sorry, not interested in sharing. Neither carrot nor stick is giving me much incentive at the moment."

Thwack! Another sharp blow with the riding crop, this time on the opposite thigh. Sherlock winced and wobbled a bit as his cock throbbed in time with the welt Molly had raised. At the same time, John grabbed him by his hair, yanking his head down and forcing a kiss on him that left Sherlock both dizzy, breathless – and even more turned on, if such a thing were even possible at this point. "Ah," John purred, rubbing his thumb along Sherlock's zygomatic arch. "Perhaps the carrot approach will work after all. Miss Hooper, the scarf, if you please."

Humming happily to herself, Molly unwound his scarf from her neck and reached up so that it covered his eyes, which he shut as soon as the soft material met his flesh. She fussed over the knot a bit, her breasts and especially her hard nipples rubbing against his chest as she did so, and Sherlock knew that the teasing was finally coming to an end.

"All good?" she murmured, and he nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. Her hands were on his cheeks, pulling his face down toward hers, and he met her kiss eagerly, to hell with the role he was supposed to be playing. Kissing Molly was one of his favorite recreational activities, and he still cursed himself for wasting so much time with her. But he had her now, her and John, his two lovely people who were doing a damned good job at making this fantasy everything he could possibly hope for. And the three of them were certainly making up for lost time!

"We can make our time together very enjoyable, Mr. Holmes," John said, his voice thick with desire. He and Molly were both stroking Sherlock's body, coming teasingly close to his cock but never quite touching where he most wanted them to. "And all you have to do…"

"And all I have to do is tell you about the Sussex Vampire, is that it?" Sherlock broke in, voice straining with desire. "Give away one of my brother's most important government secrets and you'll let me have all the sex I want?" Sherlock put a sneer in his voice, difficult but not impossible as he felt one hand – Molly's, he thought – graze his bollocks and reach back to tease the sensitive flesh between his scrotum and his anus.

"Believe me, Mr. Holmes, it'll be well worth it," John assured him. Then both hands suddenly released him; he heard the slightest creaking sound from the floorboards to indicate that they'd both stepped away from him, and then a sound that heated his blood and sent it pooling southward – John was taking off his clothes, now he was as naked as Molly and one of them was kneeling on the floor, no hands touching him as a tongue – difficult to ascertain whose since his brain seemed to have stopped working – swiped its way down the side of his cock. It was quickly joined by a second tongue and Sherlock found his groans and gasps impossible to restrain.

He pulled against his bonds as one of his partners – John, this time, he thought – mouthed the top of his cock. Then he felt a slick finger slide against his ass, pressing against his puckered hole and smelled the light scent of the jasmine lubricant Molly favored for such activities and his groans became moans of purest bliss. Even blindfolded he could tell Molly's fingers from John's, could tell it was her lips pressing damp, open-mouthed kisses along his thighs and buttocks as she slipped one finger deep inside him.

By this point he was tugging at his bonds, wanting to be able to touch his two lovers the way they were currently touching him. His cock was throbbing, the ring keeping him hard and ready but he wanted it off, wanted to be able to fuck John and Molly into sobbing heaps. "The Sussex Vampire was a cover for a drug smuggling ring," he croaked out, making up the story as went along. He fell silent as John pulled his aching cock deep into his mouth and throat while Molly continued to finger-fuck his ass. She had two fingers in there now and soon there would be three and a hot flush rose over his body as he recognized how he was being prepped – and for whom. Would he be allowed to fuck Molly while John was inside him, or would he only be allowed to lick her cunt? Would they untie him or leave him standing?

"Tell us more, Mr. Holmes," Molly said as she used her free hand to caress his bollocks. John pulled his mouth away and Sherlock nearly swore at him but swallowed the words as he continued to spew out some ridiculous tale of foreign drug-lords and local turf wars and his brother's desire for the case to come to a swift conclusion because his favorite golf course was in the hands of the criminals.

Molly chortled at that part – Mycroft was, indeed, an avid golfer but had never of course found himself in such a pickle – and John chuckled as well. "Bollocks," he said amiably as he realized the two of them had gone completely out of character. Molly might be able to pull herself together, but Sherlock knew John was well and truly out of the game now. Which was fine with him, as he desperately wanted to be freed and on the bed. As in NOW. "Waistcoat," he gasped out.

Instantly Molly and John pulled away from him, which was far from the desired outcome – but he knew it was only so they could free him. Sure enough, John undid his wrists and Molly pulled the scarf over his head, peering anxiously at him as he blinked and shook his arms. "Bed," he ordered, hauling her close for a searing kiss that left them both breathless. "Now."

Molly wasted no time in clambering up on the bed, kneeling and watching as John grabbed the container of lube from where she'd put it on the bedside table. Sherlock pulled him close for a kiss just as passionate as the one he'd bestowed on Molly. They tumbled onto the bed together, Sherlock landing with his head in a giggling Molly's lap, which was more than fine with him. "So I've given you lot what you wanted, now it's my turn," he growled, disentangling himself from John and nudging Molly's legs further apart as she scooted up to rest against the headboard. Without waiting for anything as boring – or unnecessary – as permission, he nuzzled into her naked sex, inhaling deeply of the well-loved scent of her, his tongue eagerly sliding between her nether lips to lap at the gathering wetness.

"Ungh," she moaned, her fingers tangling in his sweat-dampened curls. He felt John moving around behind them, then the sound of the other man's fingers scooping up a dollop of lube alerted Sherlock as to his intentions. All to the good, but first…he reached down between his legs, taking care not to pull his mouth away from Molly's sweet pussy by so much as a micron, and carefully removed the cock ring. He dropped it over the side of the bed, knowing that either John or Molly would take care of it later – an embarrassing incident involving Mrs. Hudson cleaning up after a particularly enthusiastic night had made the other two very, very thorough in their post-coital cleanup activities. It wasn't that their landlady was a shrinking violet, but more the thought of having to endure any more of her knowing looks and "oh-to-be-young-again-and-able-to-take-two-cocks-at-once" comments.

Sherlock settled himself to the serious business of getting Molly off while John took over the task of stretching Sherlock out enough to take his cock. John was thick and lovely and Sherlock could hardly wait to feel him inside his ass; the very though caused him to grab Molly's thighs a bit tighter, which in turn caused her to tug sharply at his hair and drag a grunt of pleasure from his lips. That of course vibrated against her cunt; he turned his attention to her clit as he felt John shifting up behind him. Then John's fingers pulled out and were replaced by the slick head of his cock. Suckling softly on Molly's clit, he timed his ministrations to her increasing tension and the soft mewls and the occasional "fuck yes Sherlock" she mumbled. Just as John plunged into him, Sherlock made sure to push two fingers deep into Molly's cunt. She cried out and pumped her hips furiously against his face as she rode out her orgasm.

Her pleasure ensured – for the moment, since he rarely let one of their pleasant little encounters pass without attempting to make her come at least twice – he was able to focus on the feel of John's cock moving steadily in and out of his ass. Oh, the burn was fantastic, brilliant and he wasted no time in assuring the other man of that fact. "John, you have no idea how bloody brilliant it feels when you're inside me," Sherlock said, resting his cheek on Molly's thigh. Her fingers combed gently through his hair and he spared a moment to look up at her smiling, flushed – and extremely satisfied looking – face. "I fucking love how you feel, just as much as I love being inside you or Molly."

His female partner leaned down and planted a soft kiss on his head as he snapped his hips back to meet John's forward thrusts. John leaned down as well, resting his chin on Sherlock's shoulder before moving his head to meet the other man's for a sloppy, urgent kiss. Then John lifted his head to kiss Molly, who pulled one hand from Sherlock's hair – he whined in protest, he loved having someone run their fingers through his hair – to rest against the nape of John's neck. "Mission successful, Dr. Watson," she murmured in a wicked reprisal of her 'villainess' voice. "We've got him now."

"Fuck yes," John gasped, reaching around to fist Sherlock's cock. "You've got that right, Miss Hooper." He grinned, first at Sherlock and then at Molly. "We've got him, all right. Just as much as he's got us." He moved faster and Sherlock groaned and knew it wouldn't be long before he spilled all over his lover's hand and his other lover's thighs and knew, absolutely knew, that he couldn't possibly have found two better people to share his life with.

Author's note: Sorry for the long delay but this chapter was giving me fits. I hope you liked it, and thanks for reading!