Very mild bdsm,

Slashy slash for Sweden :-P

A first

And an answer to Sherlock's particular needs, recently articulated

Blindfolded

"I love that you run to us, Sherlock," Molly said, "it's quite primal, isn't it?"

Molly and John were standing near the fire with glasses of port, looking fairly turned out. Sherlock was struck again by how perfectly attuned they seemed to be with one another, as well as by the happiness it gave him to have them both with him again.

"I love running to you, Molly darling, to both of you."

Sherlock had just entered the flat after bounding up the stairs. He hadn't been caught in traffic as he had been previously, but had gotten out of his cab about a half a mile away specifically in order that he could run the rest of the way to the flat. It was just as Molly had said, primal. He knew there was something very wonderful at the end of the run, and the feeling of running flat out, even the short distance that he'd chosen, the feeling it gave him was ecstasy.

Sherlock kissed Molly's mouth. He noted her cocktail dress, and her hair done in an upsweep. So lovely. Her neckline plunged, and he traced the dip of it with his fingers, touching her skin. He noted her lack of make up, she needed none, and her lack of perfume with gratitude. He trailed his fingers to the back of her neck and leaned to her ear.

"So lovely, Molly, love, you are so beautiful."

His mouth latched onto her neck, and he caressed and then squeezed a breast in his hand.

"So are you, love." Molly whispered back, accepting his touch, moaning a little when he took his hand away, missing him.

John's text to him earlier in the day had been short and to the point. 'The usual time.' and then, 'Something a little more involved, tonight. For you.' Sherlock had felt his bowels clench when he'd read that and felt excited and nervous at once. Though he couldn't begin to imagine anything specific John might have in store at home, he was fairly confident the game that would be played tonight would have something to do with the fact that he'd articulated his need for John to take more control of him. What does he make of it? He thought. They probably think I'm a freak. No, no. They accept me, they're doing something special for me it's – they're – agh! Sherlock had tried to put aside the assault of his childish inner voice.

"John." Sherlock now turned to his friend, who smiled at him. He was wearing a simple black suit, a bow tie, polished shoes. But his hair was quite natural, quite untouched, Sherlock thought with a smile. Perhaps just a little detail unattended, he thought. He was sure it hardly mattered, but loved the care that had gone into his friend's appearance otherwise. Sherlock didn't touch him, but stood very close, well within his personal space, close enough to smell the soap he'd used in his quiet recent shower.

"You look very pretty, too." Sherlock's voice was low and already raspy.

He was hoping the doctor would initiate contact and he wasn't disappointed. John's hand went to Sherlock's throat at his open collar, stroking his friend's neck. Then he slid his hand back to his nape, feeling the hair line, looking into his friend's eyes, making eye contact then asking for permission he knew he didn't need. Finally, he pulled Sherlock to his mouth and they kissed gently at first, and then a little more hungrily. Sherlock found the doctor's kiss quite moving and was still a little off balance when John pulled away. Sherlock knew John didn't normally like kissing him when they were both standing up, in bed was different, but from time to time when they were both standing, John would step away from him to avoid any intimate contact. At first it quite hurt Sherlock's feelings, he was aghast to find. Later, though the detective realized it was that idiotic height issue that John couldn't let go of. It quite surprised Sherlock, but he saw that this issue of John's was the problem. The detective resolved not to bring it up. The few times that it had come up, he noted how angry, childish, morose and idiotic the doctor had become. A nerve had most certainly been hit. No need to shoot at fish in a barrel, however, he would leave it alone.

"Sherlock?" John was steadying him with a hand.

"Hmm?" Sherlock came back to himself a bit, the pleasure of the kiss waning. John saw that his friend was only a little lost in the moment, and smiled.

"Ahaha. Have a seat, hmm? Will you drink some water for me?"

"Half a bottle, of course, Doctor." Sherlock sat, smiling, and dutifully opened the bottle of water he found close at hand on the side table.

He sat in his chair, looking up at his friends. The words: Something a little more involved. For you. repeated themselves in his mind over and over. It was interesting being seated as they looked down at him, smiling, chatting about this and that. Sherlock found he was already letting go, happily, happily letting go of control. When John was satisfied that Sherlock was relaxed and had caught his breath from his run, he began.

"Well, Sherlock, Molly tells me you might like, ah, a bit of restraint in our –games? And when you mentioned I should take more control – of you, I thought - we thought – Well, is that – something you think you'd like? Would you like to be – tied? Um, bound?"

"Oh." Sherlock blushed deep crimson, but couldn't help but smile at Molly, that same bashful smile he'd given her when he'd held himself in the artist's harness at the studio, spread eagle, and standing in that compromising position for longer than was necessary. Indeed having stepped into the harness at all to demonstrate had been completely unnecessary. The fact stood out: he had liked it.

"Oh, I remember - at the studio, Molly?" Sherlock asked her.

"Yes, you seemed, interested. Was I wrong?"

"Hmm. Probably not." Be specific, be clear, Sherlock thought. "That is, you, ah – no, you were not wrong."

John and Molly waited to hear if Sherlock had anything specific in mind, but since he remained quite pink, and only looked down at his hands, John picked up the thread for him.

"Sherlock - we're not at all formal or strict. Do you need that kind of thing? Because I don't know if I -."

"No, not at all." Sherlock continued to be so agreeable, it would have been laughable had it not been so heartbreakingly needy, John thought.

"Well, I have something fairly moderate, well mild to moderate, worked out. Something along the lines of what Molly did for us, you know, the night of the tie? Do you –."

"All right." Sherlock agreed quickly.

"Ahaha. Ok." John rose from his chair, smiling at Sherlock's unembarrassed eagerness. John stood next to Sherlock's chair, then perched on an arm of it. He ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair, rubbing the back of his neck, watching his friend's eyes close, releasing himself to the pleasure of the doctor's touch. So trusting with us, so loving and willing. Yes, it must be a great relief for him to let go. I'm surprised we hadn't though of this for him earlier. Best to go slowly, though.

"Do you, that is, would you like me to describe it for you?" John stroked his friend's cheek and throat. "Or do you want it to just, ah, unfold?"

"I trust you, I trust you both."

Oh, god, he's dying for it, John thought, as he watched his friend allow his head to loll back in the chair at John's simple touch.

"Oh, you're so lovely," John leaned in and kissed Sherlock's cheek and temple. Sherlock hissed with pleasure and then, overcome with affection, John further licked and bit at Sherlock's ear before a last kiss on his friend's cheek.

"All right, we'll start, hang on a moment, ok?" John whispered in Sherlock's ear. He squeezed his friend's shoulder and rose.

"Ok," Sherlock was hoarse.

John chose a small chair and set it in a clear spot near John's and Sherlock's chairs.

"Sit, here, love," John directed him, and Sherlock complied.

"Good. Now, I'm not interested in anyone doing anything they don't want to do, I know that's understood, but I'll say it again. So, the safe word is Caliban, please say it for me now."

"Caliban." Molly and Sherlock said the word at the same time.

"Thank you. Molly?"

Molly approached Sherlock, smiling and holding a piece of black muslin.

"Very loosely, darling, all right? Tell me if it's too tight or uncomfortable in any way."

"Oh." Sherlock was surprised to see a blindfold, but he thought, Yes, yes, that would be lovely.

"Yes, yes, please, of course," Sherlock said, and Molly began to wrap the length of fabric around her friend's eyes. The strip of material was long, and she wrapped it around him for a time. The result was complete blackness, and no ability to see whatsoever, nor was it uncomfortable at all, and it seemed to be affixed firmly in place.

Sherlock found that he could open and close his eyes easily under the blindfold without discomfort. But either way there was nothing to be seen at all and it was completely liberating. When the material was completely in place, it was as though an unbearable weight had been lifted from his shoulders. All he had to do, now was listen, and do as he was told, and he was content, so content to do it. For John and for Molly. No, it's true, no one else, no one else in the world, but with John and Molly, yes, he could let go. Why on earth? My people, that's all. Just do what he wants, as he says and it will feel good, it will feel incredible.

"All right, John," Molly said.

"Good, now, Sherlock, shoes and socks."

Sherlock slipped off his shoes and socks, and felt Molly near him, picking them up, and placing them out of the way.

"Fine. Now, stand, Molly will help you, but just stand in place."

Molly took Sherlock's hand, and he rose from the chair. When he was standing, John continued.

"Good. Now, take off your clothes. You can hand them to Molly. If you need help, we'll help you."

Sherlock didn't need help, and shrugged out of his jacket, then his shirt, handing the items to Molly. He shucked off his trousers and pants in one go, handing the clothes to Molly when he was done. The blindfold didn't at all impede him in this simple task, but he could feel the psychological effect of the fabric on his face taking hold of him: he felt freer than he'd ever felt, he felt as though he were able to float at will, no fly, take off and spin around the room, out the door and into the air.

"Ok, you can kneel down on this cushion." John placed the cushion in front of his friend. Sherlock felt John's proximity to him, and felt the blood rush from his head. He accepted John's hand, as Sherlock knelt to the floor, adjusting the cushion.

"Get well situated on the cushion, get comfortable, all right? Make sure you can kneel up, and sit back comfortably, please. You should feel free to kneel up or sit back whenever you like, all right?" John ran his hands through Sherlock's hair when he'd knelt and watched as his friend tested his position on the cushion, then sat up straight again, waiting.

"Molly?"

From inside his lightless cocoon, Sherlock felt Molly approach him from the right.

"Hands to the back, please, and put them in a comfortable position. Thank you. Now, the rope will feel secure, but if you had to, you would be able to get out of it. I'll use lots of loops but minimal knots all right? But it will feel tight enough for you to feel secure in it."

Yes make me feel secure tie me hard and make me feel safe and held in held down by you by both of you don't let me go please keep me safe keep me with you please don't let me go like I had to go before I never want to go away from you again.

Sherlock could feel his erection near the half-way mark as Molly worked, near him, touching him. The rope was loose feeling, and Sherlock wondered if it were done well enough. But when Molly was finished, Sherlock tested the strength of the rope binding his wrists and saw that what she'd done was exactly as she'd described. He felt quite secure in the rope, but he could tell there were enough flaws in the knots that he would be able to wriggle out of it if absolutely necessary and if given enough time. He knelt up straight on the cushion, waiting. Then he felt Molly kissing his lips, and he responded, but she soon pulled away from him.

"Molly." He said.

"It's all right, we're here," she assured him, and he heard her as she stepped over to where he thought John was standing.

John was rapt at the sight of his friend in his blindfold and bonds, naked and kneeling before him. He tried to control his breathing, which was becoming more and more ragged as he watched Sherlock's cock come to full erection.

"Oh, lovely, Sherlock. Tell us what's happening, darling, please." Molly breathed as she too, watched.

"I – I'm getting, ah, excited - I'm getting hard."

"Yes, lovely," John approached his friend. Molly looked up, startled, this wasn't in the plan, what was John doing? She regarded her husband and friend, as John knelt at Sherlock's side, and took his face in his hands and began kissing him. John kissed Sherlock's neck, face, throat, shoulder and chest, while rubbing his hands over him, alternately embracing him, and stroking him. He took some time to lavish this bit of spontaneous attention on Sherlock, and Molly watched, saying nothing, smiling, excited.

"John, John," was all Sherlock could manage as John continued his onslaught of attentions, then he directed his friend.

"Close your mouth, please. Don't open it." Sherlock complied and John pressed his lips to his friend's and kissed, licked and bit them, nipping at his cheek and chin as well. John's kisses went on for some time, while Sherlock moaned through his nose, unable to open is mouth, dying to open his mouth. John finally came to a stop, holding his friend for support, stroking his chest.

"Lovely," John whispered in Sherlock's ear, "You're so lovely and I – I want you - I don't understand it, but I do - I want you. I want you and I'll have you, now." John's breath was out of control, ragged. He kissed Sherlock's cheek a final time, then nipped his ear playfully, and rose up to his feet again.

What does he mean, 'I'll have you now?' Sherlock wondered. They certainly have me. But how will John have me tonight? John and Molly, Molly and John, oh my god.

"I need a minute," John said to Molly as he took her in his arms, gently rutting his erection against her. He kissed her, more fully, slowly with less heat than he had done with Sherlock. What's the difference, what's the difference, I must be out of my mind to wait, to have waited so long, to continue to demure. He's so compliant he's so — Wait, what does that make me? What am I? What am I? John's head was swimming, he found he could barely stand. Molly was half holding him up, now, he realized and he tried to take control of himself again.

"Sorry," he said to her, as he pulled himself up right, and made sure Molly was all right, too.

"Oh, John, you're so beautiful together, I'm wet just watching you."

"Oh, god, he's -," John breathed, looking back to his friend, a blotchy red colouring now covering Sherlock's neck and chest and what the couple could see of his face.

"Beautiful, Sherlock, you're so beautiful," Molly breathed.

"Yes," said John. "All right. Molly." John was himself again, and directed Molly to the next step in the game.

Molly knelt to Sherlock now, kissing him.

"Molly, love- " he said.

"You're so lovely, darling. No talking now."

Sherlock was silent. Molly took Sherlock's cock in her hand, and started stroking him.

"Ah, oh god."

"Shh, it's all right." Molly hushed him. She stroked him slowly, and then more and more quickly. John came to her, and dispensed a little lubricant into her hand, and Sherlock gasped when her now wet slick hand returned to continue stroking him, but he managed to keep silent. John and Molly continued to check in with one another as Sherlock's pleasure progressed and when he reached a plateau of sorts, John stopped it.

"Stop," John directed from somewhere behind Sherlock. Oh god. Molly squeezed the base of his cock, and held her hand there as Sherlock shook with frustration, leaning forward, his mouth gaping open. Little by little he came back to his senses, when John spoke again.

"All right, go ahead." John was walking slowly toward him, Sherlock could feel the floor moving, hear his steps, casual, not trying to sneak up on anyone. He felt the doctor move past him, and felt him stand in front of him, he felt his eyes on him as he reached another plateau.

"Stop, Molly." John put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and came close to his ear "Just a reminder, the safe word is Caliban, all right?" Sherlock shook his head, as he fought to keep his breathing regular, and his trembling at a minimum but he managed to remain silent.

"All right, go ahead," John took his hand away from Sherlock, and Sherlock felt the loss. Molly began to stroke him again. She was now varying her strokes, pulling at him with more speed, more imperative.

"Stop," John said again.

"Oh, god, not now, please, John, Molly, let me – I need to - ."

"Shh, yes I know, love," John said, "You're beautiful, just beautiful. No talking. Just wait. Wait a few moments." After some moments, John finally spoke.

"All right, Molly."

John gave Molly a little more lubricant from time to time as he stopped and started Molly several more times.

Finally, Sherlock was moaning loudly, threatening tears and shaking uncontrollably as Molly continued to stroke him at an agonizing pace.

"Stop." John signalled. Molly stopped and Sherlock tried to control himself as Molly squeezed the base of his cock and held him firmly. She spoke to him.

"Sherlock, that's the last time I'll stop. You have a choice to make now. Would you like me to put my mouth on you to finish you, or would you like John to?"

Sherlock could barely believe what he was hearing and said so.

"What? I'm sorry, what?"

"Me, or John, darling? You must choose." Molly couldn't help but smile and looked to John.

"Oh, god, don't – don't make me choose, please, please, just - I need to -, Molly, John?"

Sherlock felt John come to his side, his hand on his shoulder.

"We won't – we won't make you choose," said John as he slid down to kneel next to Sherlock. Sherlock hissed with pleasure when he sensed John's proximity. Sherlock noticed, too, that John was now bare to the waist and the skin to skin contact made him dizzy.

The doctor kissed and licked a path from Sherlock's ear and neck, down to a nipple which he licked and nipped at, and then lowered himself to Sherlock's cock, licking the tip, then taking him into his mouth. Sherlock let out a long loud moan of desperate satisfaction as he felt the doctor's tongue flick along the tip. He almost blacked out with pleasure when John took him deep into the back of his mouth, easing himself slowly down the shaft.

John removed Molly's hand from the base of Sherlock's cock, but held her hand in his own, interlacing his fingers between hers, making eye contact with her as he established a quick rhythm up and down Sherlock's erection. Molly smiled and lay down on the floor, looking up at John, smiling, holding his hand, content to watch from this vantage point. She considered touching herself, but didn't, relishing the sights and sounds of John and Sherlock together, for their own sake. She wondered what would happen to them, the three of them, as she often did. The developments between Sherlock and John were exciting, took her breath away, but she'd always considered their arrangement, their triad as somewhat ethereal and certainly socially tenuous. Could they make a go of it for years to come? She wasn't sure how they would survive. But she couldn't think of ending any part of it either. It seemed to be so perfect for them, all three. And now this, oh god, now this. Heaven.

"John, I— close." Sherlock managed.

"Whenever you want, love," John responded plunging his mouth back down on his friend's shaft, and Sherlock almost immediately let go, releasing into John's mouth, his whole body shaking and spasming, moaning his release. John took it as best he could, gagging a little, inexpertly licking off Sherlock's cock what was left. He then quickly moved to hold his friend, kissing him, and murmuring to him, his arms braced around his shoulders, supporting him.

"Sherlock, lovely. All right? Hmm?

"Yes."

"Not too much?"

"No, no. It was – good, it was – John, you, you -.,"

"Shh. You were lovely, god, so lovely."

"Oh, beautiful," Molly breathed. Her first instinct was to immediately release Sherlock from the rope, but instinctively stayed where she was. She sensed something wasn't done yet.

"Molly?" John broke her reverie, and she hopped up to untie Sherlock's hands, rubbing his arms, as she worked.

"No, don't." Sherlock said, a plea in his voice.

"What, love?"

"Just, for a moment, please. Leave it."

"Leave the rope on?" Molly looked to John.

"Ahaha, no, take it off, love," John directed Molly, "We have to have some circulation in your arms, hmm? That's good Molly, rub him, rub his arms."

"John, I - ."

"Shh." John hushed his friend, and continued to chuckle lightly, "Don't worry, we'll tie you up again, soon, love. Ahaha."

John gently removed the blindfold and the two men locked gazes, but needed no words. John saw that Sherlock had been shattered, taken apart and was still quite moved, and full. When Molly had finished taking off the rope, Sherlock put his arms around his two friends, and sobbed with abandon into John's neck. John and Molly held him until his sobs subsided and his breathing became more regular.

"You take it all away," he gasped at last. "You take it all, then give it back."

"I must say, John, Molly, I'm very impressed."

John and Molly had managed to get Sherlock to bed, stripped, and arranged themselves around him, holding him. They petted and kissed him for some time before he finally spoke.

"Hmm," John responded, spooning Sherlock's back, lightly kissing his partner's hairline at the nape of his neck.

"The blindfold was – masterful. And I had -I had no idea you were thinking of – that you were ready to -."

"Hmm, no?" John smiled into his friend's shoulder and Sherlock felt the smile.

"No, nor did I think you would - execute – with such – thoroughness and ah - proficiency."

"Ahaha. No? Ahaha."

"No, frankly, no offense. You've quite taken my breath away. Where did – how did you -?"

"Ahaha."

"Sherlock really. He knows what he likes for himself. And he knows the human body. And he loves you," Molly said. Her hands were buried deep in Sherlock's hair, pulling gently, Sherlock's face was pressed between her breasts, one of his hands deep inside her, gently probing, exploring.

"Mmm, Molly. John."

"Mmm, lovely," Molly arched her back at Sherlock's touch, and then opened her legs to him more.

"Molly. Kiss me love, will you?" Sherlock leaned up to Molly.

Sherlock and Molly kissed for some moments, while John spooned his friend from behind, now and then stroking Molly, too.

"John, we've neglected her, I think, haven't we darling? Have we neglected you? Hmm? Let me taste you. Sit up here in the pillows."

Molly arranged herself on the pillows, her knees still together.

"Open for me, love?" Sherlock, gently pulled her knees apart with his hands looking up at her, smiling.

Molly let her legs loll apart and Sherlock breathed in her scent and the two of them adjusted their positions on the bed so that Sherlock could kiss her inner thigh and nip at her. He was fully on his stomach, now, his hands on her hips as he leaned in and buried his face between her legs with a moan of deep pleasure. John watched as Molly laced her fingers deep into those dark curls, pulling his face deeper into her. He locked eyes with his wife, then drew himself near to her, kissing her, stroking her breasts, then, from time to time, fondling Sherlock's head, rubbing the back of his neck. Molly came fairly quickly in a series of spasms and cries and collapsed in John's arms.

"Just take me, John," Molly pleaded, before she'd even recovered from her climax, and John didn't disappoint her, hauling her away from the headboard, and mounting her easily on her back, while Sherlock, lay watching.

"I love it when you've just had Sherlock, love," John was saying to her. "I love it when you come back a bit, and you realize it's me. Yes, just like that, love, yes it's me, now, ahaha, I love you, too."

"Mmm," said Molly, "I love you, I love my husband."

"I love my wife."

"And I love Sherlock."

"Mmm, so do I." All three chuckled and Sherlock came closer to the couple, he could never keep away, the way John often did. He loved to be close to them when they were together, loved to hear them, see them, touch them when they coupled.

Molly had come to herself a little and looked into John's eyes. She always had a little something of surprise in her face after she'd been with Sherlock just before John was with her. It was a pleasant kind of surprise, a happy realization and it was a fleeting reminder of Sherlock's presence, and John relished it, even though he could feel him, see him in the bed with them. If left to himself, John would wait for Molly to rest, but she always insisted he take her right away, and he loved it this way, so he obliged her.

"Sherlock," John said, a little surprised to feel Sherlock touching him from behind, just stroking his backside, gently.

"Hmm? No? Shall I stop?"

"No, it's, ah, oh, Molly, Sherlock."

"Here, this should help." Sherlock used a little lubricant, and pressed a finger into John as he continued to move on top of Molly.

"Ah-, oh god, what, Sherlock I don't actually need any help, really -" John began to buck and thrust faster than he would have at this early stage, and felt a little rushed, but Molly was clearly loving it, writhing and thrusting against him as he went, so he didn't refuse.

"Not enough? Here, I'll just -." Sherlock pressed two fingers into John, now, gripping his shoulder with his free hand and John felt as though his neck and face had burst into flame.

"Jesus, Sherlock, oh, Molly." John leaned down, pressing his face against Molly's shoulder, biting into her, thrusting relentlessly now. Sherlock kept up with John and Molly, keeping contact as John was more and more violent, less predictable as he began to pound into Molly. Molly was crying out now, fairly loudly, in time with John's thrusting and John's usual final vocalization pattern was beginning, Sherlock recognized. Another? He thought. Sherlock pressed a third finger into John, thrusting and twisting.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, oh, god, motherfucker, oh, Molly, Molly, oh, god, oh, fuck," said John.

Molly's final vocalizations weren't exactly words, but the two of them together were very loud, and Sherlock chuckled as the pair finished at the same time, swear words and screams all together. Sherlock drew his fingers out of John, and watched as the couple collapsed together, breathing hard. He leaned over Molly and kissed her.

"I love kissing you when you're done, Darling, I love your mouth when you're done." Sherlock ran his tongue over her lips, nipping her, then sucking her tongue inside his mouth. She was responsive to him, but entirely compliant, and let him do as he wished. The three were quite for a time as Sherlock and Molly kissed gently.

"Well, my goodness," John said.

The three laughed together at that and sighed at once with deep satisfaction.

"Um, so, to answer your question, no, I'm not."

"What's that, Molly, love?" Sherlock continued kissing her.

"I'm not feeling at all neglected."

"Ah, that's good, that's very good."

"Ahaha."

Sherlock pulled the duvet up from the bottom of the bed, and with a gesture of his arm, flipped it over the three of them, covering them all together.

Ok, hope you liked it –

Hey, I know it's not everyone's ship, so if I offend: sorry.

BUT, if you do like it, please, please let me know, 'k?

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The more comments I get the faster I respond with new chapters.

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JennoftheGlenn