There was a stunned silence in the living room in 221B Baker Street after the little pet's outburst. John wondered almost hysterically if they had managed to catch a pet that was totally insane and had no survival instinct at all. How the hell did you train a pet who was that stupidly brave or bravely stupid? That was going to be Sherlock's problem, and one he was going to relish. Well hell, the little one might have just managed to make Sherlock even more determined to prove himself.
John slowly turned his gaze from the monitor towards his silent lover who was still staring at the screen with that focused rapt attention he used for his more challenging of cases.
He could see the muscles of Sherlock's throat working and the way that delicious pink tongue peeped out and flickered against his top lip as he raised his hands in the familiar gesture which left them steepled together against his chin in his comfortable thinking pose.
The way Sherlock tilted his head towards John, the predatory gleam in his beautiful eyes, and the delighted smirk on his lips sent a shaft of desire straight through John's gut. God he was beautiful. And he was all Johns. Only John's!
"Isn't she just adorable John?" The delighted question posed in that deep velvet voice husky with fascination and desire and intensified the lustful gleam in John's eyes.
He could feel himself harden in response.
"She is so perfect for me," then those brilliant gleaming eyes flickered softly towards John's lower regions "For us" he amended as somehow that deep voice became even huskier and the irresistible smirk on his lips shredded the last of John's self control.
He put down the cup carefully and refusing to let Sherlock's gaze drop, he stalked towards him, menacing possession in every movement, until he was close enough to lay a heavy hand on Sherlock's shoulder. He exerted pressure on the collarbone, resisting the urge to move his hand to the delectable pale throat and squeeze just enough for his mark to become visible. Time enough for that later. He had other plans at the moment.
"Kneel" it was the stern Army officer uttering that word and Sherlock instinctively obeyed the succinct command, still with that delighted smirk on his face that John was going to take such pleasure in replacing with the beautifully debauched abandoned expression Sherlock wore after John had made him focus on John's pleasure and before John permitted his desperate partner his own release.
"Thank me properly" John commanded implacably, and as Sherlock's fingers stroked at John's waist underneath the jumper and then with typical impatience reaching for his zip, John growled his voice as hard as his interested cock "No hands".
Sherlock blinked, and then lust blown eyes stared straight up at John, and he exhaled, he was close enough for John to feel the warm breath against the top of his waistband where he had disturbed his clothing, then he leant closer as he mouthed the tented part of John's trousers. The feel of that hungry mouth pressing that fabric into his flesh, desperate to touch skin send a pleasurable shudder radiating out from the epicentre throughout this body. His unspoken challenge to himself and Sherlock was to stand completely still and silent whilst his body was bared by the machinations of that clever wicked mouth, whilst that mouth feasted on him.
That wicked clever mouth that could deride, devastate and destroy any one that stood in his way, but for John would devour and delight. Such a wicked clever mouth
The only sound in the room was John's tense breathing, and Sherlock's needy desperate groans of pleasure as he took his fill of John's flesh. It was the absorbed greedy expression on Sherlock's face which gave John the idea and the smile of sheer satiation and satisfaction which crossed John's face was not just because that wicked mouth had tilted his world and drained him dry. The quick catlike licks which were worshipfully cleaning him were accompanied by Sherlock's attempts to gain his own release when John lowered his head and whispered in his ear. "No", and all movement stopped as he raised his head and stared at John with eyes almost black with lust. His hand and his tongue remained in their respective positions.
John could see the intelligence begin to creep back into those delectable eyes and he smiled lovingly but with total conviction at him. "You don't get any release until she passes her first training test. You can decide who gets to give you that pleasure then, your pet or me." Sherlock's eyes flashed but John could see the faint irritation turn to excited interest as he continued " This will keep you focused on your responsibility as a Pet owner and trainer Darling, Now will you be able to resist unaided or do you want external help" and John mockingly held his thumb and forefinger together in a perfect circle. Sherlock flushed angrily and began to open his mouth. But John knelt beside him and his cold hand replaced Sherlock's on his warm aching flesh.
Sherlock moaned as that hand moved so slowly and tantalisingly "Damn you John" he groaned and whimpered when the grip tightened unbearably. "Of course I will still expect you to pleasure me as normal darling; I can still come whenever I want" and he smirked wickedly at him. "You are an evil bastard sometimes John" Sherlock groaned feeling those clever fingers take him to the edge "Please just let me this once, just now" he begged almost incoherently, the hand carried on stroking and flicking and teasing and tormenting and he couldn't help it, he was nearly there, he was shuddering with the need when that build up was brutally stopped and the hand squeezed at the base of his cock. The pitiful groan he uttered was beautiful and John grinned at him lovingly. "Are you up to the challenge Sherlock?" he deliberately taunted knowing a dig at his lover's ego would work. He knew this would ensure Sherlock didn't lose interest in the little one anytime soon.
"Help I need help" Sherlock confessed as he stumbled over the words, his head bent as he watched John's hand. "I won't be able to do this without help".
John gently tilted Sherlock's down bent head up towards him, smiled lovingly at the desperate expression and kissed him lingeringly.
Greg Lestrade stared in disbelief at his new office. What in the name of all that was holy was he going to do with this? Fucking Mycroft Holmes again! He was reeling Lestrade in like a fish on a line the cunning persistent bastard.
First it was the meeting with the Chief who was as pleased as punch that one of his officers was going to be working with Holmes. Who had to gleefully point out that this would bring major kudos to the department and Lestrade didn't have to be a mind reader to know that what he meant was the kudos it would bring to the Chief himself.
It might even get the slimy arse-licking bastard into that stupid private men's club he had been trying to join for years. What was it called again? Yeah he remembered now. It was the Diogenes Club, the one Mycroft Holmes practically owned his cynical self sniggered.
Then the one that really stuck in his craw and made him want to run over Mycroft Holmes with his own sodding car, stop and reverse it back over him in order to make sure the bastard was as flat as a pancake, was walking into New Scotland Yard that morning, heading for his office after picking up a decent cup of coffee for his first cup of the day before he had to rely on the disgusting sludge that they produced in the department and finding that stupid git Gregson sitting in Lestrade's chair, in Lestrade's office now in charge of Lestrade's fucking team. And when Lestrade was about to toss him out through the unopened window of his third floor office for even daring to breath the same air as the team he had hand picked and put together and trained until they were the best in the bloody division, Donovan had pulled him aside urgently and told him that all his files and personal belongings (including the whiskey he kept for the really late sessions to help him sleep on the uncomfortable sodding couch at the back of his office, which was falling to bits but was still better some nights than returning to his dingy miserable lonely flat) had been boxed up and taken away by the most efficient looking and sinister ghosts she had ever seen in her life. Before he could even ask the question, his mobile phone rang with an unknown number.
"DI Lestrade" he offered curtly, that's all he needed now was to sort out this stupid mess, he was hoping it wasn't a case because this was sodding ridiculous and he needed to get hold of Holmes and ring his suave and sinister neck whilst getting his stuff back, and getting that lump Gregson out of his office, his chair and his hair.
"Lestrade, there is a car waiting downstairs for you to take you to your new office" the suave and sinister Mycroft Holmes himself was speaking to him
"Mr Holmes" Lestrade began angrily but was interrupted without compunction
"Excellent, we can chat over tea and discuss the requirements of your new position, I have already cleared it with your superiors. I look forward to meeting you again…Gregory" and the smooth, sinister and suave git had the bloody cheek to hang up on him without allowing him to say another word.
Lestrade stared at his phone in disbelief. What the actual fuck? Not only was the guy remodelling his fucking life but was he actually coming on to him? Shit a brick this situation just got worse by the second.
He collected his coat and case, resolutely ignoring the smirk on Gregson's face or he would send the creep arse first through that window anyway. Never could stand the little shit he was a thick but cunning bully who took the credit for his teams work. But most of his success was because of the eccentric brilliant younger Holmes brother, the self styled world's only consulting detective. Another rude and arrogant little shit; he and Gregson deserved each other. Thank the good lord he had never been saddled with the freak. Lestrade got the results he needed through his own blasted hard work. He'd probably be in jail for treason or attempted murder or locked up in a secure mental ward if he'd had to cope with that tosser Sherlock Holmes for even five minutes. Dimmock had the pleasure of his company on one case and he barely restrained himself from pulling his gun on him. It was only the presence of his partner the ex soldier that had calmed the situation down and Dimmock was the most unexcitable policeman he had ever met.
He brushed off a few of the quietly worded worried comments from his longer team members with a neutral expression and a brief "On secondment guys, nothing to worry about"
Dimmock caught up with him in the elevator to the ground floor. They knew better than to speak openly in the monitored space but Ian's concerned expression spoke volumes as he cheerfully asked Lestrade to come to the house to eat later in the week.
"Emma's making a roast dinner Guv, your favourite, with lemon meringue pie for afters"
"How can I resist Emma's cooking of course I will be there" Lestrade gave him the first genuine smile of the day and as Dimmock shook his hand goodbye, his grin grew even wider as he felt the tracking device Dimmock pressed into his palm.
He nearly laughed as Ian winked at him, his back safely turned to the monitor. Damn Dimmock was as paranoid as he was. He'd trained the lad well.
They had evaded detection for a long time, admittedly sometimes more through luck than judgement in the very early days but they had become a damn sight slicker and more professional over the years. Hence the little task Mycroft had given him.
But his people were good, and there might be a chance, a very slim chance that they could actually all get out of this mess without any damage. He allowed himself a sliver of desperate hope but when he saw the sleek and dangerous black vehicle waiting for him, the back door opened by a suited and armed grunt who stared at him as if he was sizing him up for a coffin, his heart sank again. But he wouldn't give up, he didn't have the luxury of giving up, too many people, too many friends would be endangered.
So here he was in the same official and secret building as the mighty Mycroft Holmes, surrounded by the kind of computer hardware and software which would make the tech bods at MI6 cream their pants, and the menacing presence of Holmes personal fucking ninja army. Sweet merciful Christ, he wasn't going to last a bloody week before they knew everything unless he could get out of this building.
He obediently followed the very attractive blonde young woman who had smiled shyly at him and asked him to call her Fleur.
This was his office? The mahogany desk was bigger than his double bed at home, the leather sofa was huge. The captain's chair behind the desk was padded with the safe green leather that covered the sofa. There was an ensuite toilet and shower, a wardrobe and Fleur the petite Mycroft minion was now showing him all the amenities by pushing mysterious buttons on a tiny black remote which even meant the appearance of a 42 inch plasma flat screen TV hidden behind the dark wood panelling. He wondered half seriously if he could give up the lease on his flat and actually move into this office, it was much more luxurious and well appointed.
Lestrade wasn't sure if his jaw was still dragging on the floor but the smart young woman who was there with him and was now ostensibly his personal assistant (why the fuck did he need a personal assistant? He had never needed a personal assistant, what the hell did they even do?) smiled shyly at him again, took him through another door which led into a smaller office which was apparently hers, complete with coffee percolator and when he sniffed appreciatively at the beautiful aroma of freshly ground coffee, she took his overcoat, poured him a mug of the delicious drink, gave him a plate the prettiest most delicate biscuits he had ever seen and then proceeded to outline his meetings for the week, the expenses policy, told him he only had to let her know when he needed a car and it and the driver assigned to him would be ready immediately. She handed him a sleek brand new mobile phone with all his current contacts and some impressive new ones including Mycroft Holmes and the actual Mayor himself.
Her efficiency was incredible and terrifying and he knew damn well that if he relaxed around this clever sweet young woman, he might as well confess to Mycroft Holmes right now. Lestrade was not vain, but he knew he was a handsome man and hell he had to use all his advantages in this situation. He had seen the flicker of interest in her pretty eyes when she had met him for the first time, and the way she had blushed slightly before trying for a more professional demeanour. He was way too old for her she probably had some kind of Daddy kink.
As she was leading through the confusing corridors to his first meeting with Mycroft Holmes, she seriously asked him if he was allergic to any food or had any strong dislikes so that she could ensure his lunch was appropriate, he knew this was as good a time as any to begin. He came to a full stop in the corridor and asked her with a wickedly charming smile on his handsome face if she would marry him because his ex-wife hadn't taken care of him this well in the ten years they had been together.
Fleur had flushed a very pretty red colour, and stuttered through a flustered disjointed apology, and then flushed even more realising that she wasn't making much sense.
She quickly muttered that Mr Holmes's assistant would bring him back to the office after the meeting and his lunch would be ready and hurried off back to the office.
Lestrade felt a twinge of guilt, she was a nice kid but too many people depended on him, the risk was too great and a flexible conscience was non negotiable.
If he ended up having to shag both Fleur and Mycroft Holmes to protect the networks then so be it.
He took a deep breath as Anthea; Holmes personal assistant opened his office door and announced him in a low sultry murmur.
"Do come in Gregory, I have been so looking forward to the day you joined me" Mycroft's voice sent a shuddering shiver down through his nerve ends. God help him, he wasn't sure if it was fear or something worse.
AN
Warnings for smutty and slutty behaviour but all done in the best possible taste.. not.
Sorry for the delay, real life got a bit too real and a little bumpy for a while. Anyway chapter 5 is up and even more out of my comfort zone but hopefully you enjoy it.
Next chapter will be focused on Molly after her outburst and how Sherlock is going to deal with it now he has an extra incentive.
Sorry if I haven't responded to you lovely people who have taken the time and effort to review yet but I will do and I hope you are inspired to continue sending me your thoughts.
Disclaimers as per previous chapters, no money being made etc etc