5

John was making good on his promise from earlier in the day. Sherlock had behaved himself the rest of the day. He had helped John make dinner, had helped Hamish clean up his toys, moved an experiment because it was inconveniently placed, done the dishes, and had read Hamish four bedtime stories. He then stayed upstairs and cuddled with his son until he was sure that he was in a deep sleep. Sherlock then carefully untangled himself from Hamish and practically jumped down all of the stairs.

John was irritatingly reading in his armchair, looking completely at ease. His hair had gone a bit more grey in recent years and he had started using reading glasses, which Sherlock found incredibly sexy. John knew what this did to him and he was just torturing him. To make matters worse, once John heard him come down the stairs, he began flexing the fingers of his left hand, the one he used to prepare Sherlock, in the exact motion that he used to stretch him open. Sherlock's mouth went dry at the sight.

He had to play it cool, though. He couldn't take much more of this. So he shook his head, silently expelled all of the air from his lungs, and sat in his chair across from his husband. John didn't acknowledge him for exactly two minutes and fifteen seconds. Sherlock was about to lose his composure and say something when John stood up, gave him a seductive glance, and held out his hand for Sherlock to take. Sherlock followed John, his heart fluttering rapidly. John could feel the fluttering, and he stroked Sherlock's knuckles gently with his thumb.

"I was going to use this opportunity to torture you, but I think I can think of a better way to spend our time, don't you?" John whispered into Sherlock's ear, licking the outer shell and causing Sherlock to shudder violently.

"I'm amenable." Sherlock thought it was a miracle that he was able to respond at all.

John smiled and laid him down on the bed and his husband of his clothes. He then reached into the drawer where they kept lube in their bedside table and pulled out some silk straps. Sherlock's eyes got wide, and John smiled sheepishly. "I want to do all the work tonight."

"Is that fair? Considering the fact that I made you finish my work earlier today?"

John chuckled and secured one of Sherlock's wrists to the bedpost. "I actually thought it was incredibly hot. I figured I should return the favor. Would you just relax and enjoy yourself for once?"

Sherlock nodded and sighed contentedly. "Don't you think you're wearing too much?"

John finished securing the other wrist and kissed it. "I don't want you being distracted. I know what seeing my irresistible body does to you."

"Modest as ever."

"Always. Now shut up."

John worshipped Sherlock's body without any interruptions from his husband. He kissed every inch of skin, left love bites all over and licked the abused flesh after to soothe it, and put his hands wherever they could reach. He even broke out the flavored lube that they used on special occasions and tortured Sherlock by brushing his core, but not getting quite to the spot that he desperately needed to be touched at. He brought him to the edge several times, and then backed off to prolong things.

Finally, Sherlock was moaning wantonly and finally was begging John to take him. John smiled and decided that Sherlock had had enough. He was about to finally get out of his clothes and make slow, sweet love to his husband when he heard feet coming down the stairs.

"Fuck," he groaned. He tossed the sheet over Sherlock and less than ten seconds later, Hamish was in their doorway. His eyes went wide with fear when he saw his Papa tied up on his bed.

"What's happening?" he asked.

John looked at Sherlock, who was no longer flushed from arousal, but from humiliation. He opened his mouth but for once was speechless. John glared at him and was about to respond when Hamish noticed the red welts all over Sherlock's body and started crying.

"Papa, did someone kidnap you and hurt you?"

John walked over to hug his son and was trying to think of a good cover story when Sherlock answered and said, "Yes, but your Daddy found me and scared them off. Don't worry, Hamish, I'm just fine."

This just made Hamish cry harder. John glared harder at Sherlock. Their son now didn't feel safe in their home, and he thought that his Papa had been tortured. Great. John stroked Hamish's soft blond curls and kissed the top of his head, all the time cooing in his ear to try to calm him down.

Hamish pulled himself together a bit and then walked over to the bedside table where his Dad's cell phone was. He quickly hit his Uncle Greg's number before either of his parents realized what exactly he was doing.

"John, it is past midnight. There had better be a good excuse for this," Lestrade's deep voice growled into the phone.

"Uncle Greg?" Hamish whimpered.

Lestrade immediately sounded more awake and sympathetic. "Hamish? What's the matter?"

"Papa got kidnapped."

"Shit. Where's your Dad?"

Hamish could hear his Uncle Mycroft in the background asking what was the matter, and Uncle Greg shushing him. "He's here. They're both here. Daddy scared them away. Could you and Uncle My come and investigate?"

"Tell me what's happening first. Is your Papa okay?"

"He was tied up on the bed and there are lots of red marks on him. They hurt him, Uncle Greg, please come over." Hamish started crying again.

"Hey, buddy, it's okay. Just put me on with your Dad, okay?"

The next voice Lestrade heard was John's. "Greg, I-"

Lestrade was cracking up on the other end of the conversation. John couldn't get a word in.

"This really isn't funny. Hamish is really frightened."

"Are you telling me that you had Sherlock all tied up for some kinky sex and Hamish walked in on you?" Greg could barely breathe.

"Yes, that's the basic story, but I would rather not get into the details of the whole thing now. Or ever, really, now that I think about it.

Greg had dissolved into howls again and couldn't speak. Mycroft pried the phone from his hands and said, "John, put me on with Hamish, please."

John passed the phone back to Hamish and said, "It's Uncle Mycroft."

Hamish hiccupped into the phone and Mycroft said, "Hamish, I will be sending some people over to watch your flat and keep the three of you safe tonight. Uncle Greg and I will come over tomorrow while you're at school so you don't have to watch the investigation. Now, I advise you go back up to your room and go back to sleep. I won't let anything bad happen to you." Mycroft said the last sentence with a softness that he reserved for the people who he loved the most.

"Promise?"

"I promise. You go back up to your room and go back to sleep. May I speak with your Dad?"

"Yes. Thank you, Uncle My. Love you."

"I love you too," Mycroft smiled. As soon as John was back on the line and Hamish was out of the room, his tone of voice switched. "How could he have possibly walked in on you two doing that?"

"Jesus, Mycroft, it happens. No matter how quiet we are, there's always a chance that he could come in. Thank God I was dressed and I got a sheet over Sherlock before he got in here."

"I don't need the details of the act, John." Mycroft sounded incredibly uncomfortable. "Just tell Hamish that I came over with Greg while he was at school and looked into matters."

"Thanks Mycroft. Sorry for waking you two up," John grimaced. He could still hear Greg laughing in the background. He was going to kill that man.

"I don't believe Gregory is sorry you rang. Oh John, next time you and Sherlock feel the need to engage in acts of bondage, please send Hamish to sleep over here."

John went red. "Right. Thanks. Good night."

Once he had hung up, Sherlock cleared his throat. John had nearly forgotten that he was there. He turned around looking exhausted, and Sherlock said, "If you don't mind, my love, I've been tied up for close to an hour and a half and haven't been allowed to have an orgasm. Could you please take your clothes off so we could possibly finish what we started here?"

"You really are a bastard sometimes, you know that," John sighed as he began to slowly disrobe.

"I am well aware, John," Sherlock grinned maliciously and canted his hips up so he rubbed against the sheet and moaned quietly.

That was too much for John. Within a few seconds, his clothes were in a puddle on the floor and not long after he was inside of Sherlock, moving so slow that Sherlock bit his chest to spur him on. They finally came, and John untied Sherlock, but still stayed sprawled on top of him and buried inside of him until he softened enough to fall out on his own. Sherlock wrapped his arms and legs around him and pressed a kiss to his temple.

"Twice in a day," he remarked. "We really need to be more careful."

"I blame you. You started it today," John mumbled.

"Indeed I did. Let's just go to sleep and we'll figure out how to be more cautious tomorrow."

John hummed into Sherlock's chest and soon enough, they were fast asleep.

A/N: Hello my lovelies! This was the fifth chapter, so guess what the next chapter is? I know I've been super diligent about updating every day, but tomorrow's is a lot longer than the rest of the chapters and I really want to make sure that it is perfect. It may go up tomorrow if I get time, but if not, it will be up the next day. Promise! Thanks for everyone's support for this story. I'm really enjoying all of the reviews and messages I'm getting about this. It really means so much to me to see that people are enjoying it so much! Y'all are fab!

Of course, my obligatory disclaimer, I own nothing here, and I apologize to ACD and Moftiss for destroying their creations.