In which Sherlock and John discover and reveal things about the chair

In which Sherlock's 'am I too heavy' concerns are revealed

In which Sherlock feels a little unsure in his relationship with the other two

In which Molly and John do their utmost to reassure their friend

Nana's Chair

Sherlock entered the flat to find John standing in the middle of the room, regarding his chair.

"John? Problem?"

"No, no." John said, but then pointed to the chair, wagging a finger at it. "But, I did want to ask you – Where did you get this chair?

Oh getting too clever for your own good John Watson whatever will I do with you oh well ask your fill if you must ask away see what good it will do you how delightful he's worked it out or rather figured out the proper line of questioning.

"Hmm? What?" Sherlock said, as he gestured to carrier bags, and took himself into the kitchen.

"Ahaha." John followed his friend into the kitchen, not willing to give up on his question. "Where did you get that chair, Hmm? My chair – I mean, the one I sit in. It's, it's that is – it doesn't match – I mean – your chair and your sofa match and they're, well, they're more you.

"Oh, the chair matches, John."

"Yes, yes, very funny, I know it – Ahaha – it matches me – more traditional, less - fuck, less modern than your – your look. But where did it come from? It was with your stuff when you first moved in."

Sherlock considered lying to John, considered telling him that the chair was a left over from the last tenant and was in the flat when he'd moved in the rest of his things. No, no, that's no way to treat your loved ones Sherlock decided to come clean.

"Well, John, do you really want to know?"

"I did ask."

"All right, I'll tell you." Sherlock turned from making tea to face John. "It was Nana's chair."

"Nana's chair?"

"Yes."

"Who's Nana?"

"Was, John. Nana was my maternal grandmere. Uh – grandmother."

"I see." John considered for a moment. So - my chair was your – was Nana's chair?"

"Hmmhmm. Yes, John." Sherlock smiled and set the constellations of the qualities of John and the qualities of Nana into orbit in the planetarium of his mind and observed them. He was not at all surprised to find many items in common. How did I not recognize this before? He thought. Sherlock continued pottering about in the kitchen, smiling to himself, getting ready for supper. He set out three bowls, napkins, and wine glasses, located a bottle of red, and set that out as well.

"Ok," said John with a bit of a breath.

"Is it – a problem – at all?" Sherlock asked.

"No, no. It's – it's a very nice chair. Very – comfy. I like it very much." John smiled.

The two waited while the water boiled for the tea, John thinking to himself, and Sherlock regarding his friend. I'll help him out. But just a bit, thought Sherlock.

"If it's of any interest to you – I – um – had a very – close relationship with Nana. The closest of any of my - well – family, certainly. Possibly the whole – ah -. She was – she was very - steady for me."

John was gratified to hear that Sherlock's childhood wasn't a wasteland of indifferent adults. He had sometimes imagined a younger Mycroft, more than 10 years Sherlock's senior, speaking cruelly to him, ordering him about, talking to him as if he were his own age, rather than as a child. It quite burned him up.

"How old were you - when she passed?"

"Fifteen."

"Ah. Sorry."

"Well." Sherlock shrugged as the two men regarded one another, waiting for the kettle. He saw that John had an impulse to reach out to him and touch him, but quelled it. Sherlock smiled.

"John?" Sherlock inclined his head in what he hoped would be an encouraging way.

"Hmm? What?"

"You can you know - touch me, that is. I do – actually like it, you know."

"Ahaha. Yes, I was going to - ." John stepped over to Sherlock and touched his arm lightly. Sherlock smiled but didn't respond, wanting to see what else John might do, smiling his encouragement and John took him in his arms, an arm around his waist, and one on his neck, fingering his throat. Sherlock pressed his cheek against John's head, smiling, holding him lightly.

"I do love that you want to know, but – ah – why don't you have a seat – hmmhmm, in Nana'schair, and I'll bring you a mug?"

"Nah," said John, taking one of Sherlock's hands in his own, lacing their fingers together. "Leave it. It only gets cold. Come on." He gently led Sherlock out of the kitchen, after snapping off the kettle.

John took his seat in the chair and Sherlock looked at him, suddenly a little diffident. He waited to be invited, as he had with Nana, he remembered. Mycroft always scolding him not to hop into Nana's lap, unbidden. Ah, yes, thought Sherlock, someone else was always supervising us, scolding me, advising me. Good god.

"Come on," John prompted gently, holding out a hand to his friend. Sherlock stepped up to John's chair as he had before, and put his hands on the arms of the chair, his face close to John's as he lowered himself onto John's lap. He grazed John's cheek with his lips as he descended, lowering himself into place, onto John's lovely thick, muscular thighs. Sherlock immediately had to repress his desire to ask if he were too heavy, and he managed it, smiling wanly into John's face who was watching him

carefully. Any other person, any other situation, and Sherlock would have resented the scrutiny, but not here. Not now. Instead, and for the first time, he appreciated it. Sherlock pressed his face against John's neck, relaxing, sighing his contentment. The two were quiet for a moment.

"You don't mind about the chair - being Nana's?"

"No, of course not."

The room was quiet again for a few perfectly comfortable moments.

"I think that's what it is, John."

"What?"

"I've responded to you – you know – in this chair – with the - emotions of a time long past."

"Yes, I can see that a bit."

"An emotional connection to the chair. Hmmhmm. I'm becoming ridiculous."

"No, no -."

"Oh, don't worry, I don't give a damn, John."

"Ahaha. Good. But what about this 'am I too heavy?' business?"

Sherlock recalled Mycroft's cruel words before entering Nana's bedroom. 'And don't jump into Nana's lap until she asks you, you fat little toad.'

"Nana was getting frailer when I was still quite young. Other – family members were wary of hurting her – and you know, other childhood issues – I suppose it can all get jumbled together."

John had an image of Mycroft and other adults berating Sherlock for jumping on his aged grandmother.

"Were you – heavy as a child?"

"Shh."

"Ah. I see. I can't imagine."

"Don't tell anyone." Sherlock giggled every so slightly into John's neck.

"Ahaha. Molly?"

"Yes, yes, of course Molly, of course. But no one else."

"Our secret. But, you seem to have – gotten a hold of the problem."

"Oh, indeed," Sherlock sat up a bit straighter, his tone more adult. "The coke habit, and the club lifestyle each - contributed to a look that – well – very close to the one you know, now. Hmmhmm. Aren't I lucky?"

Sherlock was kissing John's ear and neck, purring a little as he went and John responded, his hands in Sherlock's hair.

"But, Sherlock - ."

"Hmm?"

"You were – the last time we were – sitting here – you were so upset about something."

"As I said, John, childhood issues getting jumbled together?" Sherlock's finger tips were running along John's mouth and he stopped to look into his friend's face, his eyes.

"Oh, John, love, I think that's pity I see in your eyes."

John looked away, ashamed.

"Oh, I -."

"It's all right, I didn't mean to scold you. Yes, there were issues. But I'm sure mine were the least for the world to consider."

John tightened his grip on Sherlock in his lap, in his arms, pulling him close, holding him hard and Sherlock let out a little breathy sound.

"Were you – were you ever punished in this chair, though?"

Too clever too clever by half if I keep telling him things he'll have it all and we'll hear no end of it no I can't let him know anything bad ever happened in this chair best to keep that to myself it's best for John not going to do any good going into that now, so many years on.

"No, no," Sherlock lied smoothly. "Nana only ever held me in this chair, it was in her bedroom – and it was only ever good. John, love, I'm ok now, hmm? She was lovely with me, as I recall. Seemed to know what – you know – what was going on – with me – more than any of those fumbling, moronic doctors. Oh, sorry. I meant psychiatrists, of course."

"Hmm, fair enough," said John. "So, she – held you?"

"Yes, John."

"You're lying. You're lying to protect me. From the truth of – what happened."

Sherlock froze. Too clever by half how on earth did he deduce that he has no information to go on

"How – how did you know?"

"I can feel it in your body, love. I sleep with you, remember? I know things about you now. Things you can't hide."

Sherlock bowed his head, thoroughly chastened.

"I – I -."

"Shh – I won't ask about it, since you clearly don't want to tell me. I'll try not to worry too much about it, since that's why you lied to me. Ahaha. Don't though, ok? If you can help it? Just tell me you don't want to tell me. Much better that way."

"Yes. Yes of course it is, John, I'm – I'm -."

"Shh, never mind. She didn't – That is, Nana never punished you, though?"

"No, no, never."

"Ok. How – often did you see her?"

"She lived with us until her death. I saw her all the time – well – until I went to school – she died while I was away."

"Sorry – I mean –."

"Um, John?"

"Hmm?"

"Enough for now, yes?"

"Yes, of course." John ran his fingertips down the length of Sherlock's throat.

"Sorry, I just, I just want -."

"It's fine, I – I'm just done for now. If you don't mind."

"Ok." John began unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt, kissing his neck and jaw line with some urgency when Sherlock spoke again.

"John."

"Mmm?"

"When Molly comes – tonight – in bed -?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you – do you think you'd want to - ."

"Do you want me – to be – inside you?"

"Mmm. If you - ."

"Shh, ok."

"Ok." Sherlock paused and added a little shyly, "All clean."

"Ah. Ahaha. Ok."

John put his hands in Sherlock's hair and rubbed his scalp. He kissed his head and murmured his name and Sherlock was fairly sedated after a time with his face pressed to John's neck. John could see that sitting in this chair was not going to turn into chair sex as he had previously thought. It was only ever going to be a gentle quiet cuddling moment between the two of them, something rather one-sided in which John was a carer, and Sherlock was cared for. John smiled as he thought this, murmuring Sherlock's name as he rubbed his scalp gently. Sherlock was quite mesmerized after a time, quiet and relaxed with his head in the crook of John's neck. This was the scene to which Molly came home.

"My lovely boys," She said quietly at the door. "Everything all right?"

"Yes, love," said Sherlock getting up, helping her with the food. He gave her a gentle peck on the cheek and went into the kitchen.

John joined them in the kitchen where they quietly doled out food into bowls and shared a simple meal, Molly and John seated at the table, Sherlock leaning on the counter, trying to control his boundless energy.

Both, he thought to himself I'm going to have them both tonight John on top and Molly beneath or the like oh god

He barely contained his excitement as he ate a very minimal meal. He ate and watched Molly and John chatter affectionately, leaning in to kiss one another very occasionally. They're so natural in one another's company, he thought, once again regretting his officially unmarried status. He was confident he could swoop in at any moment and talk to, kiss, touch either of them and neither of them would put him off. Rather, they would welcome him, encourage him, he knew. But officially, Molly was right – it did make him sad sometimes. No, she doesn't miss much, does she? There was a lull in the couple's conversation.

"You're so - ." Sherlock blurted. "So natural together – I – sorry – you're lovely – that's – that's all I -."

"Sherlock," said Molly, putting her empty bowl in the sink. She knew the trouble and went to him, putting her arms around him.

"Ahaha. Now you're lovely together, hmm? I've always thought so. That first night, Sherlock."

"Are we? Are we Molly?" he asked, placing a kiss in her hair. John has had to watch someone else from the beginning holding touching making love to his wife he's never given any indication of feeling left out not a word if anything it had seemed to soothe him Sherlock thought. My presence has always been welcome in their bed they only ever want me close there are never any secrets not so far not so far how much long for godssake? How can it go on?

"What is it, love?" Molly rubbed his chest with her hands.

"Just seems – sometimes - ."

"Mmm?"

"Seems so – impossible – John – Molly."

"No, love," John assured him from where he sat.

"No, love," Molly echoed.

"It's happening now." John stood up from his seat and put an arm around Sherlock's waist and one around Molly's shoulders.

"See?" John smiled into Sherlock's face that open easy smile that had so often assured his friend. Then, John leaned his head back slightly, offering his neck and Sherlock lowered his head whispering 'I love you,' silently against the skin of John's throat.

"Sherlock in the middle tonight," Molly said, squeezing her arms around him, her cheek against his chest.

"Yes, special treatment tonight," John said.

Sherlock noticed John and Molly's silent communication. It only ever made him smile when he saw them do it – in a look or the squeeze of a hand or shoulder – He could tell easily enough they were communicating something about him. Less obvious to him was whether it was something specific or just a need for general confirmation, a sort of non-verbal, 'see, that's what I was talking about.' Tonight, though, there was something more, he thought. Perhaps they have something planned. He looked at John then Molly. But they only smiled at him.

In the bedroom, Molly and John undressed Sherlock slowly, piece by piece and when he tried to unbutton Molly's blouse, they took his hands away gently.

"Let us, Sherlock you can let go, love."

Sherlock closed his eyes and let them strip him tenderly, kissing him brushing his skin with their fingers as they went. When he stood naked before them, John pulled aside the duvet on the bed.

"Get in the middle, love," he said, and smiled.

Sherlock slid into bed rolling into the middle, lying on his back and grinned as John and Molly, still fully clothed, slid in next thim, kissing him, stroking him. He closed his eyes for a moment or two to savour the feeling of so many hands and mouths on his naked skin. He was vaguely aware of noises of contentment he was making, alternating from a sort of purr to breathing the names of his lovers.

He felt John climb part way on top of him, and he opened his eyes. John was draped across his chest, his face smiling into his own, quite close, close enough to lean in and kiss him when he wanted to. He could feel Molly's small kisses across his abdomen, her hands on his hips, though he couldn't see her as John blocked his view.

"Ok?"

"Mmm. John, love." Sherlock ruffled John's hair and John took his other hand and laced their fingers together. He leaned in and kissed Sherlock, quickly dominating the kiss and Sherlock was happy to let the control slip further away from him. When John released him, licking his lips and pulling away, gently, he stroked Sherlock's cheek.

"Lovely," said John.

"Ah, Molly." Sherlock felt Molly's mouth on the tip of his now completely erect cock, teasing the contour of the head with the dainty point of her tongue. That's when Sherlock heard the click and felt the cold sharp sensation of metal on his wrist. His eyes snapped open, and he smiled at John, chuckling.

"Hmmhmm. Oh, John, love."

"What? No? I didn't get you?"

"Hmmhmm, John." Sherlock ran his fingers up and down John's neck, wanting so much to possess him, but still content only to be possessed. But how much longer before I lose control completely? Sherlock thought. How completely adorable. He thought he caught me. Molly knows.

Molly popped up to nibble at Sherlock's ear.

"It's so important to him that he was able to surprise you, Sherlock."

"Hmmhmm. I'm sorry, John."

"No? When did you know?" John wanted to know.

"Well, when you leaned down to reach for the – wait a moment! This, this isn't even connected to anything. For gods sake, John!"

Sherlock lifted his captured wrist and laughed at the sight of the pair of handcuffs dangling from one of his wrists.

"You didn't even secure them to anything! This is ridiculous!"

"I might have done. I just wanted to see if I could -."

"We don't want to have you in proper cuffs, love," Molly continued, more to the point. "We don't want you to hurt your pretty hands and wrists."

"Oh, I see," Sherlock's lips pouted as John unlocked the cuff from Sherlock's wrists, with a key he'd taken from the bedside table.

"You see, you see, Molly," said John, "He's actually disappointed – he wants the real cuffs, I told you."

"That's not happening, John. Sherlock, you'll hurt yourself. You'll have marks. You could break the skin. These will be much better."

Molly produced a pair of properly padded leather restraining cuffs from her side of the bed and captured one of Sherlock's wrists in one of them, buckling the closure.

"These are real, Sherlock, no escape."

"Hmm," Sherlock wasn't so sure as he smilingly inspected the cuff Molly had secured on his wrist. John took the other cuff, and fastened Sherlock's other wrist and then, bringing his friend's two hands together, he clipped them together with the hardware on the cuffs. John swiftly lifted Sherlock's bound wrists, pinning them over his head, pressing his chest to Sherlock's, gripping the back of his neck.

"Ok?" He asked, then kissed him again, roughly. Sherlock closed his eyes, the process of letting go was going deeper and he was really enjoying himself, now. "God I love seeing you like this," John whispered urgently in his ear then Sherlock heard another metallic click, and realized he'd been secured somehow to the bed. Ah, lovely. Sherlock opened his eyes to see John kneeling up in bed.

"What about that time?" John wanted to know.

"I – I don't know, love." Sherlock said. "I think if someone wants to be captured – are you actually – I mean -."

"Come on. Did I surprise you?"

"Shh, John, love, leave him alone with that, now. Can't you see he's starting to bliss out, already?"

"Yes, yes," John agreed, and felt his own blood drain from his head, his trousers getting tighter as he beheld Sherlock in his bonds. His cheeks were pink now, his breathing was short and rapid and though there was a smile on his lips, his eyes were dark and needy.

"Oh, god," John fell on him, concentrating on Sherlock's neck, leaving all kinds of future marks without any care about how visible they would be later. He felt Molly behind him, continuing her attentions to Sherlock's cock, then he remembered.

"Oh," he said, and lifted himself away from Sherlock, reaching for something on the bedside table.

"John?" Sherlock was half way to that other place, hoping that John wouldn't be gone for long.

Molly again lifted herself to John and Sherlock's level as John produced a leather collar from a small shopping bag.

"Purely for aesthetic enjoyment, I think – I could never secure your neck to - ."

"John, shh, just put it on him, he's dying for it, look at him - ."

"Yes, all right, Molly, I just wanted to tell him - ."

John put the collar around Sherlock's throat and Sherlock stretched the column of his neck very prettily for John, leaning his head a bit to let him secure the buckle.

"Oh, god," said John at the sight of Sherlock thus bound.

"You're so beautiful." Molly was rapt. John had to take a moment before he could speak, however.

"Sherlock, love – ok? Not too tight?"

"S'fine," Sherlock was beginning to feel drugged, giddy, light and floating. "John, please, please."

"All right, in a moment, believe me – Molly?" John looked to Molly who hopped off the bed, producing another pair of cuffs, and John and Molly quickly bound Sherlock's ankles, to the bed, spreading his legs quite wide.

"Ok? No restriction of circulation?"

"John, John, please, please." Sherlock was smiling, but stretching against his bonds, now, arching his back, his cock rock hard and bobbing his hips thrusting involuntarily.

"Safeword is biosphere, say it please."

"Biosphere, for fuck's sake, John."

John was shucking his clothes off quickly now, as he spoke.

"Sherlock, love, oh, god, you're so fucking lovely - Molly is going to get you ready, now, then I'm going to fuck you – ah, - rather recklessly, it must be said, and then Molly's going to have you. But we won't be angry or hurt if you safeword, all right It's more important, much more important to us that you feel all right, ok?"

"John, John," Sherlock whined pitifully, now, writhing against the bonds, arching his back, enjoying himself immensely. Then John fell on his mouth again and Sherlock groaned loudly against John's tongue. He felt Molly's lovely fingers, wet with something, press into him, opening him. John's tongue seemed to be half way down his throat when Sherlock felt something cool and foreign between his legs, and press into him, he hissed.

"Ah, Molly, oh god." Sherlock tried to bend his knees, but couldn't because of the bonds.

"All right, love?"

"Yes, yes, god!"

"Yes, she's got some presents for you, love," said John. "She went shopping today and got a little carried away. God, love, I love you, I love you," John whispered into Sherlock's ear, just before he knelt up on the bed. He swiftly put on a condom, and then he took the dildo from Molly's hand, and Sherlock opened his eyes to see John fucking him with it, watching him, watching his reactions as he pressed deep into Sherlock.

"Molly, love, release his ankles for me?"

"Oh, really? What a shame."

"No, he must have his legs free, I think, don't you?"

"All right," Molly hopped off the bed and did as John asked, releasing Sherlock's ankles. Sherlock immediately bent his knees up, and arched his back to gain more contact with the dildo as John continued to press the pink plastic phallus in and out of him. John slid up to kiss his neck, chin and mouth, finally asking,

"Ready, love? Are you ready for me?"

"Yes, for godssake, please, John."

"Please, what, love?"

Sherlock was at a loss What does he want me to say? Does he need me to say 'sir?' No that's not it, that's not my John at all, that's not him oh!

"Please fuck me, John, please, please please, fuck me hard, fuck me now, please don't make me wait any more."

John gently removed the dildo from Sherlock, and slid onto top of him in the same movement, he pressed his tip into Sherlock's tight hole, stopping when the ring of muscle constricted around him. John looked to his friend's face, where need and hunger were all that could be seen.

"Please, please."

John pressed into Sherlock sinking into him, pressing all the way in, in one smooth, glacially slow delicious movement, during which Sherlock hissed and moaned, his face contorted in a picture of pain and pleasure. When John was completely buried to the hilt, he pressed his mouth to Sherlock's ear again.

"Safeword is biosphere, love. I don't want to - ."

"Move, John, move, for the love of god, don't make me beg."

From the first thrust something clicked in John, and he was almost immediately out of control, pumping into Sherlock with abandon, animal noises that he didn't recognize as his own escaping his body. He tried, but couldn't stop, couldn't control himself and seemed to only be able to do this one thing, thrust hard and fast forward and back, and that was all. His world was reduced to movement and Sherlock's face. John leaned down to bite Sherlock's neck and was rewarded with a loud moan as Sherlock continued to strain against his bonds with a lewd kind of joy, bucking and arching into John's forceful thrusts. But the build up had been such that Sherlock would have to have been made of steel to forestall his pleasure any further.

"John, ah, Molly, I – close."

Molly was at their side suddenly, and reached between their bodies, Sherlock bucking and writhing, and John thrusting and thrusting and Sherlock felt her fasten something at the base of his cock.

"Oh god!" Sherlock cried and fell back against the mattress, taking in these new sensations. In addition to the incredible burn for which John was responsible, the complete release of control his bonds afforded him, he now experienced a sort of panic and pain he'd never had before. It was agony, the cock ring, but as John drew closer to his finish, pounding and thrusting into him, the discomfort associated itself with pleasure, with joy. Delightful oh fuck!

John's litany of curses and Sherlock's and Molly's names was always such a pleasure for Sherlock, but now he was disappointed that this incredible moment of capture and possession had been so short lived. He watched as John's body stiffened, his head was thrown back, and he succumbed to the spasms of his climax. John slowly, almost gracefully collapsed onto Sherlock, kissing his neck, murmuring his name and Molly's.

"All right?"

"Ah, John – yes." Sherlock's voice was breathy, strained. Then John remembered that Sherlock hadn't been able to come, and was probably in some discomfort.

"Oh, god, sorry," John slipped out of Sherlock, noting with pleasure Sherlock's whimper at the separation. He disposed of his condom, and assured his friend.

"It's ok, here's Molly, love, not long now, all right," John drove his tongue into Sherlock's ear. Then he gently and then roughly kissed his mouth again. John could feel the extra tension in Sherlock's body as his friend dealt with the pain and discomfort of the cock ring. It was very compelling, and John wished very much that he could take him again right away. Then, Molly's hand was on John's shoulder and he could feel her straddling Sherlock, mounting him, and he rolled away from the pair to watch them.

"Stay close, John," Sherlock managed.

"Don't wander off, love," Molly said, now fully seated on Sherlock's cock.

"Don't worry, I'm here." John nipped Sherlock's ear, then he knelt up in bed and kissed and caressed Molly as she gently rolled her hips against Sherlock's in small circles, gentle thrusts.

"Ok, love?" John asked her, "I didn't take too long?"

"John," Molly responded between John's wet kisses and caresses. "Love you."

"He's so beautiful," said John, "Each time, he surprises me, makes me – I don't know -."

"I know, I know," said Molly.

Sherlock smiled to hear John and Molly speak this way about him in the midst of actually having him. Entirely delightful.

John stretched out next to Sherlock, stroking his arm and kissing his neck and mouth from time to time as Molly began to move more urgently against him. She splayed her hands across his chest and leaned down, whispering as she nipped at his mouth and neck.

"Mr. Holmes."

"Hmmhmm. Mrs. Watson."

"You're looking and sounding and hmhm, tasting very lovely this evening."

"Mmm," Sherlock was too far gone to make much sense out of anything said to him verbally.

"Doing ok? Is there any -."

"I'm fine, love, it's - , just fuck me hard, Mrs. Watson, please, do whatever you want."

Molly hooked two fingers into the metal loop in Sherlock's collar and pulled him toward her a bit. It was an awkward angle for Sherlock, but his expression and mien betrayed no panic, only hunger, need. Molly gently released his neck as she began to move in earnest, using her nails lightly against his skin, his nipples. Her muscles contracted and her back arched with pleasure to see Sherlock face contort, at war with himself over whether he felt more pleasure or more pain.

When she reached a plateau she started to panic as she sometimes did, and John saw her expression.

"What is it, love?" He asked from his vantage point, lying with his face near Sherlock's. He loved it when she started to lose control like this and teased her a little in her crucial moment. "Hmmhmm, not sure what comes next? You do, love. Do you need help? A little extra help?" John leaned over and bit Sherlock's neck, then looked to Molly, was it visual stimulus she needed or something a little more concrete?

"What can I do, love? Hmm?" John saw that his wife had gone completely non-verbal, but was still looking panicked about her forthcoming crisis as she lurched and ground against Sherlock's hips. John reached across Sherlock's arching and bucking torso and managed to tongue Molly's sex even as she rode Sherlock's cock. It was an awkward, messy affair, but John managed it, kissing and biting at Molly's sex while managing to lick the based of Sherlock's cock as well. John heard Sherlock growl his pleasure and frustration.

"Please, please," he heard his friend beg. John would have to take the ring off soon, he knew, but if he did it too soon, he might leave Molly hanging. He sucked one of his fingers, and reached around, pressing it into Molly's tighter opening, thrusting in time with her own movement, and she went over the edge with a series of screeches. John caught her in his arms, and the released her gently as she collapsed onto Sherlock. She quickly rolled off him rather unceremoniously, her body pink, her legs wide open.

John looked at Sherlock, now, as he stared at John begging him with his eyes, mouthing the word 'please,' over and over. John saw the traces of tears on his face as well. Sherlock was also still moving, as if Molly were still mounted on his cock, thrusting his hips forward and back, straining against his bonds.

"Oh, god, you're such a lovely mess, love," John heard himself say. "But you're so beautiful, I just can't let you go. I'll let you come, though, no more waiting, all right?"

John smiled at the look of relief on Sherlock's face as John knelt between his legs, spreading them. He and leaned down to take Sherlock's infuriated and discoloured member in his mouth as far as he could manage, driving two fingers deep into Sherlock, brushing the prostate, gently.

"Jesus, John, oh god."

Then he released Sherlock's cock ring and felt him come immediately, his hips thrusting against him, forcing his cock deep to the back of John's throat, moaning loudly, calling John's and Molly's names. When he'd pumped out all that he had into John's mouth Sherlock muscles gave way and he fell back against the pillows. John watched his friend for some moments, his hands resting lightly on Sherlock's knees, tracing small circles against his skin with the pads of his thumbs. Sherlock finally turned his head to look at John, and smiled.

"You take it all away. John. Molly."

"Mmm. So there shouldn't be any confusion, we will tie you to the bed to keep you, love," said John, smiling.

"Hmmhmm. Yes." Sherlock said, "Good." John saw that his friend was still in a different kind of reality, and he didn't want to spoil it for him by letting him out of his bonds. John hopped off the bed and secured Sherlock's ankle cuffs to the bed again and surveyed his handy work. Sherlock's arms were still secure above his head and his legs were spread eagled across the bed. John returned to his place between Sherlock's legs, looking down at him. Sure enough, he'd thrown his head back a bit and with his eyes closed and a smile on his face he made a magnificent picture of willing surrender.

"Lovely," John murmured, and leaned in, kissing his friend's inner thighs, biting him, marking him , then kissing the marks. He noticed that Sherlock didn't even make a squeak to be marked so with teeth. John looked at him again, at his dark needy eyes, his abandoned smile.

"Lovely," John said again, gently palming Sherlock's now flaccid cock, then leaning in to place a light kiss at the base of it.

"John," Sherlock whispered.

Then John looked to Molly.

"All right, Molly, love?" John smiled at Molly curled up at Sherlock's side. Her arms were around his waist and she'd curled her knees up almost into a foetal position, her feet against Sherlock's shin. She looked small and vulnerable next to Sherlock's well defined musculature, so beautifully on display.

"Mmm, yes, John, love. That was quite magnificent to watch, by the way."

"Hmm. You should see him, love, from here, he's so – he's – I mean his total surrender, his abandon."

Molly rose and John relinquished his spot between Sherlock's legs to her. She knelt between his legs, as John had, placing her hands on his knees.

"Yes." She said. "Yes, yes. Very pretty, love." I'll have to go back and buy the strap on, she thought, regretting part of her shopping trip. Well, plenty of time for that. She felt John behind her now, his arms snaking around her, his chin on her shoulder as the couple looked down at their captured and now thoroughly well fucked prize.

"I don't want to let him go."

"No, I don't think he wants to be let go."

"No," the couple heard a soft word from Sherlock.

John pressed his semi hard erection against the back of Molly's thigh.

"Well, then," said John, "We'll have to keep him forever."

Molly turned her head to John and kissed him, tonguing him gently.

"Yes, forever."

Sherlock opened his eyes and saw his lovely people kissing as they knelt between his knees, palpably in possession of him. Yes, yes, forever, never let me go just keep me tied here forever John Molly Molly John oh god I love you I love you both so much

Ok, there you go.

Hopefully worth the extra little wait.

There really aren't a lot of Jollockers out there, and I really need to hear from you!

Let me know what issues you think need to be resolved as we get closer to the bitter end.

It won't be bitter, though, you know – all happy endings

(nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more)