A/N: You may have noticed a title change, from Freesmut Thursday Ficlets to Johnlock Porny Ficlets. I've done this so that I can include red pants monday, various prompts, smut that won't fit into actual stories and any attempts I might make to write myself out of writers block through porn.

JOHN WILL NEVER KNOW

Sherlock lay back on his bed, lifted the red pants to his face, buried his nose in them and inhaled deeply. The musky, sweaty, masculine odour filled his nostrils and his prick, already stiff with anticipation gave an appreciative twitch. If John ever discovered that Sherlock quite regularly stole his worn pants from the washing basked and used them as a masturbatory aid he'd probably be horrified, certainly shocked and embarrassed, maybe even a little bit disappointed in his friend but since the likelihood of John ever finding out were slim to none Sherlock wasn't the least bit concerned.

He sniffed the pants again, moaning softly as he closed his eyes and tried to picture John wearing them. He'd never actually been treated to that undoubtedly splendid sight, but since becoming flatmates both men had unintentionally caught one another in various states of undress on numerous occasions so it wasn't hard for him to imagine.

Sherlock had spent more than enough time staring at John's clothed and un-clothed behind and a not quite equal amount of time sneaking furtive glances at his rather generous bulge in front to know that the pants would be a little bit tighter than was strictly necessary and that thought alone gave the detective a lusty thrill. He imagined the red fabric pulled taut as it hugged his roommates perfectly plump arse, he imagined it stretched tight and struggling to contain the thick cock and heavy balls that John had been blessed with and he imagined john sitting, peeing, adjusting his jeans and all the other things he might do while wearing them that would cause them to absorb his scent.

Another long, deep sniff and his cock jerked violently. It was time to move this along. Sometimes he wanked while sniffing the pants and imagined he had his nose buried in John's pubes as he slurped hungrily on his gorgeous prick. Sometimes he imagined himself with his face between John's glorious arse cheeks, licking at his tight hole, teasing until it was loose enough to allow Sherlock's tongue entrance. Sometimes though, and this was one of them, he imagined those arse cheeks spread wide for him, the hole already loose and open and stretched around his throbbing cock as he pounded into it over and over.

He lowered his hand and wrapped the red pants around his aching, leaky prick and began to stroke.

"John. Oh God John." He moaned as he moved his hand up and down, the pants acting as a substitute for the man himself. "Fuck. Feels so good."

He worked his hand slowly at first, almost lazily, biting his lip and gently squeezing the base of his cock to stay his orgasm and make the moment last. But it had been well over a week since his last red pants wank, John had looked and smelled particularly delicious when he left the flat that morning and Sherlock was, not to put too fine a point on it, horny and desperate for relief. He soon gave up any attempt to draw out his pleasure and started tugging furiously at his prick.

The rough friction of the pants against the sensitive, un-lubed skin of his dick was incredible and he imagined taking John dry. Hardly good practice he realised but this was just fantasy.

In no time at all Sherlock had brought himself to the very edge of climax and just a few more tugs saw him topple in spectacular fashion, his whole body convulsing wildly, his cock pulsating as he spilled his load into the pants, soaking them in cum and moaning over and over.

"Johnjohnjohn."

It took some time for the post orgasmic haze to clear and for Sherlock to find the energy to move.

He held up the pants for inspection and grinned, oddly pleased with himself and his substantial load. After a moment he turned the pants over in his hand until he found a small dry patch and proceeded to clean his stomach of the random stray splashes of semen that the pants hadn't caught. Once done he swung his legs off the bed and sat up. He grabbed a pair of threadbare socks from the floor, shoved the pants inside to hide the evidence, rolled them into a ball and tossed them into the bin. Then he got up.

He took his dressing gown down off the back of his bedroom door, wrapped it around himself and headed to the bathroom. Not before taking an identical pair of red pants from a box underneath his bed to replace the once he'd ruined though.

John would never know.

Reviews appreciated