A slight Issue.

Chapter 3

'Doctor Watson, hello. I trust you are well?' Comments the first, neatly dressed man.

'I trust you're hear with the intention of kidnapping me?' I ask, mildly amused with the whole situation.

'John, I'm really sorry about this.' Mummers the second man. 'It was completely his idea, and well, he can be very persuasive.'

'I do hope we are not inconveniencing you in any way Doctor Watson.'

'Not at all.' I respond sarcastically. 'Am I to presume you're here to take me to an abandoned warehouse in order to talk about Sherlock?'

'Naturally. If you would please get into the car Doctor.'

Thankfully (unlike the previous occasions) I am neither blinded nor forced to endure hours of endless clicks on Mycroft's assistant's phone. The alternative however, is not a great deal better.

The black car has a roomy interior, complete with blacked out windows, and a screen blocking the driver from view. The layout is somewhat unusual, with two sets of roomy leather seats opposite each other. Mycroft and his companion Lestrade sit on one side, with me on the other.

As far as I can gather, the car moves away from Baker Street, yet only drives for a couple of hours max, before coming to a halt in what I presume knowing Mycroft, is a secluded spot.

Unusually, I am not ushered out of the car into an abandoned destination, but am instead politely asked to stay seated.

'I trust you have seen the headlines Doctor Watson.' Comments Mycroft, as he reaches into a brief case and pulls out copies of the main British paper, splashed with pictures of Sherlock and I across the front pages.

'How could I not. Couldn't you have done something to stop this Mycroft?' I mummer angrily. Honestly, you'd think the fact that your best friend (and apparent lover)'s brother 'is the British Government' would have some advantages.

'Unforchanatly Doctor, no matter what Sherlock may tell you, I have no influence over the media. I could do nothing to stop information spreading.'

Apparently not.

'I have come to offer you a choice Doctor Watson. I believe a…'

'Sarah Sawyer' Interjects Lestrade.

'Thank you. Sarah Sawyer has offered you a job elsewhere. I urge you to accept. Should you leave the county, any rumours concerning my brother and yourself will die down. I wager you will be married within a year.'

'You want me to leave Sherlock?' I question, horrified at the prospect. And of course mildly concerned about the extent of Mycroft's influences.

'That Doctor Watson is your first option. Your second is to leave… two hundred and twenty one B' He says, pronouncing the 'B' with obvious scorn. Evidently Holmes' don't usually reside in flats. 'Baker Street with immediate effect. You must distinguish all contact with my brother and any case or person linked to him. Should you choose this option; you shall of course be paid a generous amount, enough to ensure you live a comftable lifestyle away from Sherlock Holmes.'

'And my third option?' I summon. If the previous two options are anything to go by, this cannot end well.

'Gregory insisted I include this option, it seems that your little 'will they won't they' relationship has caused quite a stir up at Scotland Yard, so much so that a staggering 98% believe you belong with Sherlock. So I offer you an alternative. Continue to reside at Baker Street with Sherlock, but begin a relationship with him.'

Did I hear that correctly? Mycroft is offering me a third option of what… shagging his brother?

'…What?' I ask, voice strangled.

'Gregory perhaps you should explain. This is more your forte than mine.'

'Um… sure. Look John. Let's be blunt. The only person who doesn't know that Sherlock Holmes is in love with you is you. And the only person who can't see that you're desperately falling for Sherlock is well, Sherlock.'

'You… think I'm… in love with Sherlock?' I splutter.

'Doctor Watson, surely this cannot be news to you. I accept that perhaps there is a small chance you were not consciously aware of your feelings but I assure you. It couldn't have been more obvious.' Mycroft says, obviously annoyed at my ignorance.

I open my mouth, hundreds of come backs ready to use in my head, but no words come out, instead a pathetic coughing noise, to which Lestrade responds to by handing me a paper cup full of water.

God I hope this isn't poisoned.

I take a deep breath and swallow a mouthful of water, while listening to Mycroft's reasoning.

'You killed a man to save my brother when you had known him for less than a week.'

They know about that! They fucking know I shot a man! I… Oh… Mycroft.

'You… Er… know about that?…' I moan softly.

'Im not an idiot John, who else could it have been? Not to worry, I had it covered up most effectively. Lestrade responds.

'Erm, thanks?'

'On with the evidence. You refused to take money which you could have desperately used, because of commitment to a man you barley knew. You broke up with numerous girlfriends because they interfered with your commitment to my brother.'

'You practically seethe with rage if anyone, especially Anderson or Donavon, dare insult him.' Lestrade adds.

'You were the one person Moriarty deemed most important to Sherlock. Important enough to strap to a bomb and threaten to kill should he not comply. Not me, his own brother. Nor his mother, or Lestrade, the man who fuels his need for intriguing cases. You John.'

'You were so jealous of Irene Alder.' Laughs Lestrade. 'I've seen the surveillance videos. Your comment about your middle name. And your reaction to Sherlock seeing the woman naked. Priceless!'

'That added to the extremely suggestive factor that you kissed. So what do you say Doctor Watson. Which option will you choose. Leave for a different country, leave Baker Street and diminish all contact? Or stay, and begin the relationship of the century?'

'Can I em… speak to Sherlock?' I ask, slightly overwhelmed by the whole situation.

'Of course. SHERLOCK!' Mycroft yells, loud enough to be heard through the screen separating the driver and passengers.

A second or two later, the screen begins to descend, to reveal Sherlock at the wheel of the car.

Which is a bit worrying, considering he can't drive.

'How could you possibly know I was here?' He grumbles.

'In short, you never passed your driver's test brother of mine. It shows.'

'I live in London; the ability to drive is not a necessity.' He resorts.

'Evidently you have been proved wrong dear Sherlock. In this situation, the ability to drive would not only have been convent to get you from A to B, but would have also provided your passengers, namely myself, with the security that my driver is fully qualified.'

I sense that this could be a long debate, which if experience is anything to go by, will not be resolved today. Before Sherlock has a chance to retaliate, I intervene with:

'Could I possibly speak to Sherlock alone?'

'Of course.' Mycroft responds, as he and Lestrade climb out of the vehicle, and remove listening devices at my ordered request.

'Did you Er... Hear everything?' I inquire.

'Yes.'

'And...'

'I don't want you to leave.'

'What do you want Sherlock?' I ask, suddenly aware of the extent of my arousal since Sherlock's appearance. I do a mental check and deduce my pupils are dilated, pulse increased, not to mention the growing problem between my legs.

'I would very much like to go home to Baker Street along with my faithful blogger. I would then, should things go as expected, like to take him up to my room, or his room, actually the sofa would do, and I would like to have sexual intercourse with this man, which I should hope will result in a rather pleasurable experience which I am informed is referred to as an orgasm. And judging by the man in question, I can only presume he wishes for more or less the same course of action?'

Trust Sherlock to make something so amazingly arousing sound analytical.

'The man in question would like that very much.' I respond.

At that moment, Sherlock's smile grows and a glint becomes evident in his eyes.

It takes Sherlock less than 10 seconds to climb through the gap where the screen once was and collapse gracefully onto the leather seat next to me.

'May I kiss you John?' He asks, his eyes seemingly delving into my head.

'Is this an experiment?' I question.

This cannot happen again if Sherlock is using this as an experiment to ensure I don't leave Baker Street.

'John listen to me.' Instructs Sherlock 'You heard the embarrassing conversation at the palace. Surprisingly, Mycroft was right. I am a virgin. Even I don't sleep with people for experimental purposes. I have never been attracted to anyone on the level that I've ever wanted sex. Until I met you John. You're different. You're brilliant. You stayed with me through out everything. You made me a better person. And you're very' He says as he places a kiss to my hand 'Very' Another kiss 'Attractive. And I would like nothing better than for you to teach me what love, and sex are.

I raise my right hand up to Sherlock's face and take his face in my right hand, softly caressing with my hand. My breath hitches in my throat as my heart rate begins to dramatically speed up. Sherlock's eyes widen slightly as he captures my eyes, I can only presume he means to deduce everything he possibly can. Sherlock never did like to not have the upper hand, and with virtually no experience, he has little choice but to let me take the lead.

Sherlock begins to lean in towards me, and after a seeming age, I too lean towards him, and our lips connect for the second time today.

The kiss begins fairly innocently, binging rather like two nervous young teenagers would, soft and slow, little pressure involved.

He picks up the technique as Sherlock does everything; unnaturally quickly. He soon grows impatient of the slow pace and moves his hands round to the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair and tugging my head towards his.

After that, I find myself unable to contain the need I find for the live and beautiful man in front of me, and am confronted with a need to deepen the kiss.

Seeing no objection on Sherlock's part, I press my lips harder against his, and encourage him to open his mouth slightly, to which I slip my tounge into, an action which he eagerly recipicates.

Sherlock's hands abruptly abandon my hair, and focus instead on my chest and stomach, drawing circles through the material of my jumper.

It quickly becomes apparent that both my jumper and Sherlock's coat are far too restrictive, and the kiss is broken in order to remove them.

The moment Sherlock is rid of his coat, and his purple shirt becomes visible, I groan, feeling the increasing problem between my legs increasing, begging for attention.

Instead I settle for undoing the buttons of the shirt, watching the way the material strains against his torso, and the increasingly large V of creamy white flesh that is revealed with every button that is undone.

Once the buttons are all undone, I tug the shirt from Sherlock's skin tight trousers, and watch in fascination as it billows from the perfect man's body. Without bothering to remove it completely, I begin to lavish attention to the new skin that the unbuttoning has revealed, skin that I have so often dreamed about, but haven't until this point seen.

I trace circles around Sherlock's torso, smirking in delight as he begins to arch his back to meet my hand. I take his right nipple in my mouth, swirling it with my tounge, feeling it grow hard in my mouth, and listening in fascination at the sounds the action causes Sherlock to emit.

'God John!'

'Urgh'

'Why have we never done this before?'

Of course, I couldn't stay in control forever. Once Sherlock gets a grasp of what is done in this situation; he begins to take over. He apparently decides that the playing-field can only be levelled if I am rid of my shirt.

Groaning, he pulls away from my grip, and savagely attacks my shirt, tugging the buttons free, and tearing the shirt open.

He appears to have the intent of copying my actions, but instead, he begins an assault on my neck, tracing delicate patterns with his tounge and sucking at my neck to the extent that I can be pretty sure a mark will be left.

Sherlock likes to mark his lovers. Or rather lover. Who knew he was so possessive.

'Sherlock… You have to be sure this is what you want...' I pant as Sherlock continues doing unspeakable things to my neck.

'Do you honestly believe I would have let things go this far if I weren't sure, John?' He queries.

'Glad to hear it.' I whisper seductively. 'So you wouldn't mind if I were to take of your trousers?'

'I'd be disappointed if you didn't.'

I think it's fair to say that after that, things become a lot more hectic. The rush from us both to remove the other's trousers and boxers, Sherlock's cute curious sideways glance at my erection and analytical scanning of my naked body.

Sherlock taking my penis into his hand and lightly stroking it, causing a wave of pleasure to run through me and a bunch of incoherent words to emit from my lips.

Me taking Sherlock into my mouth, watching his eyes cloud with pleasure as I lightly suck his penis and hollow out my cheeks to the best of my ability. Sherlock's gasp as I hum, causing waves of pleasure.

Then the door opens at the worst possible opportunity. I sense that Sherlock's on the edge. One more movement with my mouth and Sherlock would have felt his first taste of pleasure.

The door is flung open, and we are greeted by Lestrade's face.

Apparently he doesn't register exactly what is going on when he first opens the door, as he begins to speak as though everything's normal.

'Hey Sherlock, John, sorry to interrupt your conversation but Mycroft asked me to tell you that… Oh my god!'

Apparently he noticed exactly *cough* what we are doing.

'God I'm so sorry I…'

'Not a good time Lestrade.' Sherlock is somehow able to mutter, in quite an authoritative voice considering the situation.

'Er yeah, sorry… I'll be leaving.' Says Lestrade, unable to look at either Sherlock or I directly as he hurriedly slams the door shut and dashes away from the car.

Not really surprising during the current situation.

'I'm assuming that was awkward for you?' Sherlock asks, smirk plastered on his face.

Seriously Sherlock!

A/N: Hello all, I'm back. I hope this chapter was worth the wait, I'm sorry for the delay, real life caught up with me. I know this wasn't very smutty, but I hope you all enjoyed it anyway.

So, this is the last official chapter, but if enough people want it; I am prepared to write an epilogue, and who knows what that could contain ;) As always, feedback's appreciated.