A/N: Four months. I am so, so sorry. It is unacceptable, and should you wish to shun me forever, you would be well within your rights.

I hope this extra-long chapter goes some way to making amends to you, dear readers; however, I feel that a harsher penalty than just this is required to earn your forgiveness.

THEREFORE: Leave a FanFic prompt that you want me to write in the comments, and whether you want it smutty, romantic, plotty, whatever; I will pick one, and I promise AT LEAST 3,000 words of it will be written and posted before the end of June, as my gift to you.

I would just like to let you know, too, that I don't take it for granted how many Author and Story alerts and favourites I have been getting; Reviews remain my favourite, though, and are what have kept this story running even when it came to a complete halt. So, thank you so much to all reviewers, alerters and favouriters - you are fantastic beyond words.

Even after so long a time, I remain forever yours,

The Plot Ninja

John hated his body for betraying him like this. Absolutely hated it.

But then he found himself thrown unceremoniously onto the bed, stripped of all but his navy-blue boxers and crushed into a kiss by his lanky, powerful flatmate, and suddenly he didn't hate it at all.

'My God, John, where have you been hiding this talent?' Sherlock panted as he broke away for air, using the opportunity to shed his shirt. 'So entirely kissable – if I weren't so strictly asexual, I might turn gay just so I could devour your lips like this all the time.'

That's just the spider venom talking, John might have said, if Sherlock hadn't already regained his grasp on John's shoulders and begun to devour his lips again.

Devour. That's a good word for it.

Oh.

He gasped surprise as lips brushed up his neck, then soft lips began nipping at his collarbone. Uncertain what to do with his hands, he gingerly raised them around Sherlock and touched them gently to the man's back. A tongue at his earlobe made him hold slightly harder, and he felt the outlines of Sherlock's shoulder blades and the movement of his muscles through the fine fabric. Suddenly impatient, he took a chance and gripped the shirt in both hands, trying to pull it over Sherlock's head.

His flatmate sat up at this, and John's endorphin-flooded brain felt the loss of his lips as disappointment, until he saw the man's triumphant smile. Still straddling John, Sherlock halved the clothing discrepancy between them by peeling off his shirt, flicking it across the room without a second look, before sliding back into his previous position on top of John. He caught the shorter man's arms as he went, and John found himself quite pinned to the bed.

'Now, where was I?' Sherlock mused as he held the captured hands with one of his own. He licked one finger slowly, sensuously, in such a way that made John's mouth go dry. 'Ah yes, I remember now.'

John shuddered as a wet finger wandered around his left nipple, circling closer and closer until it was rubbing right over the hardened nub in long, assured strokes. 'That's... Oh...' he started, trailing off when he realised he'd forgotten what he wanted to say. Another shuddering inhale, and he blushed and went quiet.

'Come on now, John,' Sherlock half-whispered in his dark-chocolate voice, running his hand down the doctor's side. 'I want to hear the noises I'm getting from you – don't hold them in.'

John blushed deeper, avoiding Sherlock's gaze; then suddenly, he tried to pull his hands out from under Sherlock's. 'Wait – is the front door locked?'

'No.'

'I have to go lock it – Mrs Hudson is downstairs, what if she comes up to-'

'No,' Sherlock repeated, his tone simultaneously a smirk and a command. 'If you get up, you might lose your nerve.'

'Then you do it – just, please?'

'And leave you, just when I've wound you up into the perfect state?' Sherlock asked, leaning in to nudge at John's neck again. 'Unlikely. Besides, the fact that you want to stay quiet will make it harder to extract those delicious sounds from you,' he whispered in John's ear; the emphasis was not accidental. 'I do rather like a challenge.' And with that he plunged his hand down the front of John's boxers.

'Nngghh!' John moaned suddenly, partly with surprise, but mostly because of the intensity of the pleasure being sent through his nerves. 'Ahhh...'

Sherlock had a wicked smile spread across his face as he played the doctor like an instrument, his nimble fingers stroking with intricate technique. 'This is when you're trying to be quiet?' he asked, the fascination in his words evident. 'Surely I can't have made you lose control already.'

He fluttered his fingers over the head of John's cock, and with a loud moan John pulled at the material of his boxers, sliding them down, in the hopes that it would increase the friction Sherlock could put on it. 'Please, Sherlock, please... Ahh... Please...'

'I take it back,' Sherlock pondered aloud. 'The idea of the front door being unlocked seems to turn you on; you're much more vocal than I thought.' He licked a line from John's jaw to his clavicle. 'Now, I don't think you're an exhibitionist; you're far too private a man for that.' Pulling the navy boxers the rest of the way off of John, he traced a line down the doctor's chest and stomach, shuffling down the bed and positioning himself between the man's legs. 'You get off on fear itself.'

Any objection John might have had was drowned in the rush of oh-so-good-don't-stop that flooded his brain as the head of his cock was drawn into Sherlock's mouth. A skilled tongue circled and swirled around it, manipulating the nerves that made John shudder and grasp the sheets. 'Mmmnnngh,' he moaned; he could feel the pulse throb in his thick member, and it took all his willpower not to come right then. His hips bucked as Sherlock changed tactics to flicker his tongue along the sensitive underside, but Sherlock's warm, insistent hands held him flat down on the bed, and caused him to quake instead as the detective did it again and again. A soft touch on his tight, drawn up balls extracted yet another noise rising from his vocal chords – a feral, uncontrolled sound that he barely believed was him.

Sherlock's fingers moved down to his shaft as he pulled his mouth away, panting. 'You really are exquisite, John,' he said, his voice silk and chocolate and dark promises once again. 'Come for me.'

And with that, he took John as far into his mouth as he could.

John lost any control he might have had as he felt Sherlock's warm mouth envelop him, the smooth tongue and ridged palate and tugging suction causing a cascade of sensations to crash over his mind. His vision blurred, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut as he trembled and jolted under Sherlock's control. An intense rush of adrenaline and testosterone ran through him, and he felt release drawing closer and closer until, in one more muscle-tensing moment, his orgasm rocked through his every nerve, and he came in surges. Finally he lay panting and still, too drained to move, too satisfied to think.

After minutes had passed, he at last raised his head; from there he could see Sherlock's smug, self-satisfied expression. He decided the man had a right to it; as it turned out, that mouth was for more than just sharp words and astute observations.

'Sherlock,' he eventually managed, his voice raspy at the edges. He cleared his throat a little. 'That was... Wow. Thank you.'

'That's quite alright,' the detective grinned, getting up and turning to leave.

'Wait... Don't you want me to...' He gestured in the direction of Sherlock's pants. 'Return the favour?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'No need. I felt my heart rate and testosterone levels return to normal a good half-hour ago; the spider venom has left my system. As such, I feel no particular desire for you in that way.'

John blinked, surprised. 'Then you did this...'

'As an experiment, John. Do try to keep up. I wanted to test the effects to their full extent. Now, I'm off to the lab. Don't wait up.'

And with that the lanky man swept from the room, scooping up his shirt as he went. Moments later, John heard the front door slam.

The doctor stayed still for several moments, trying to process the events that had just occurred; then a slow smile spread across his face. 'I don't believe it,' he murmured out loud to no one but himself and the bedposts, half smug and half stunned. 'I think I just received an apology from Sherlock Holmes.'

-OoOoO-

'We cannot replace this phone, Doctor Watson,' the salesman told him in that slow, patronising tone all salespeople develop. 'You see, the terms of the warranty have been broken with the modification of it.'

Modification? Harry hadn't mentioned changing anything on the device. 'Do you know what caused the damage, at least?'

'Not entirely sure, but it's probably this,' the techie said, prying the backing of the cell phone open to show him. 'You shouldn't have soldered the new vibrator so close to the battery; the larger motor is probably what's stuffing it up.' Technical jargon: not this man's speciality; however, this did ring a bell in John's head.

'New vibrator?'

'Yeah, it seems this phone has been fitted with a vibrator that has a motor bigger than the usual phone vibrator; constant use would probably cause it to overheat.'

'Ah, I see.' John kept his temper in front of the shop assistant, but replacing the backing, he shot off a text.

You. Owe. Me. A. New. Phone. - JW

Mere seconds later, he had a response. He never got to open it, however; with a hiss and a spark, the phone flickered and died. The acrid smell of battery acid hit their noses.

John sighed and internally counted to three.

'Could you please show me your selection of phones? Expensive as you like; my flatmate is going to pay for this.'

Fin.