Heyyyyy - Thanks for waiting - Here you go:

In which Sherlock and John talk things over

In which Molly gets some special attention

Wee Hours Again

Sherlock woke with a start and found the bedroom quiet and dark. The usual ambient light was gone - someone must have drawn the curtains – and he strained to see objects in the room. The first thing he noticed was that he was still in his restraints yes, my restraints mine they can borrow them if they want to but these are mine and they were still secured to the bed. Sherlock smiled as he remembered what the three of them had just been up to, only an hour or so ago. He strained carefully against the cuffs and ankle restraints, stretching his muscles. He noted no ill effects from the bonds. Perhaps there will be some stiffness in the shoulders, but circulation seems fine. Why am I awake? Oh. Bladder seems to be full. What to do? I must have dropped off, he thought, where's John? He heard Molly breathing regularly next to him, but John was gone. He listened carefully then, and noting the quiet flush of the toilet in the bathroom, he breathed a sigh of relief. John entered the room only moments later, and slid into bed next to Sherlock and saw that he was awake.

"Ok?" John asked.

"Mmm," murmured Sherlock, "I have to use the loo, however."

"Oh, god, sorry. You only just dropped off, and I had to -." John quickly reached to Sherlock's wrists and uncuffed them from the bed, and from each other. Then he leaned down to unclip an ankle restraint from the bed, and Sherlock reached down to do the same to the other and quickly slipped out of bed. Sherlock padded out to the loo. John slipped out of bed, too, a moment later and followed him. Why am I following him? What am I doing? Why am I not back in bed with my beautiful wife? John knew he was still under the spell of the vision of Sherlock in his collar and cuffs. Like a school boy, John waited outside the bathroom door until Sherlock was finished and when he opened the door, he stepped up to him.

"Hang on a moment." Said John, taking the loop in Sherlock's collar in his fingers, firmly.

"John?" Sherlock smiled, seeing a little bit of madness, a bit of debauchery about John's features.

"Let me just show you something," John, gently brought Sherlock's face down some inches to his own level, and directed Sherlock back into the bathroom until his back touched the rim of the sink. Then John brought Sherlock's wrist restraints together and clipped them to one another, then clipped them to the Sherlock's collar.

"Safeword is still biosphere, but I just want to show you something – I think." John looked at the picture of Sherlock's bondage for a few moments, then gently turned Sherlock to the mirror. Sherlock had to admit it was a somewhat alarming sight, his naked, vulnerable frame exposed, his wrists held at his throat by the restraints. But he smiled even so, particularly to see John's hands which were holding him by the waist, moving lazily over his skin. He felt John stroking him, his flank, his back. Sherlock closed his eyes, the control slipping away again, blissfully receding, as he concentrated on John's hands moving across his body. Then one hand slid up his back and gripped a fistful of hair. John gently pressed Sherlock down, guiding him with his other hand to bend at the waist, until his arms were resting on the rim of the sink, his neck connected to his wrists. Sherlock could now see himself as well as John in this somewhat awkward position, with John's fist in his hair, the other hand on his hip, circling and circling his hip and arse. He saw John's face and torso in the mirror as well, and they locked gazes as John continued to rub Sherlock's skin. Then Sherlock felt John's thumb gently slide into the cleft of his backside, slip down and explore Sherlock's opening. John's thumb tested the muscle's tightness, then pressed against it, entering him, fucking him gently but more and more deeply. Sherlock's head reeled from the pleasure of this, but was quite off balance at John's having initiated such a thing at all.

"John, love, what has gotten into you?" Sherlock couldn't help but leer into the mirror at the doctor.

"I don't know, it's you, it's you in these bonds, fuck, you've gotten into me."

"No, John, I haven't gotten into you, I have never gotten into you, have I? Hmmhmm." Sherlock smiled into the mirror, even in his extremely compromised position.

"No, no you haven't, have you? Ahaha." John paused and looked thoughtful for a moment then spoke again. "Keep your eyes on the mirror, turn to the side a little. That's right. Now lift your knee to the rim of the sink. Good."

Sherlock's new position afforded John a better view of Sherlock's open arse as he probed him, pressing his fingers in, now. He needed more lubricant, however, to make this exercise more comfortable for Sherlock. John reached to a cabinet where he knew there was an extra tube. He slicked his fingers with it, and drove deeply but still gently into Sherlock's opening, letting Sherlock's little love sounds and moaning wash over him. He breathed deeply as the vision of this scene – to his mind – of depravity touched him, worked on him, pushed buttons he didn't know he had. John pulled Sherlock's head back just a bit, pulling the hair and pressing his erect cock into the back of Sherlock's thigh.

For god's sake is he going to shag me like this it's extremely uncomfortable but incredibly exciting how delightful what on earth has come over him it's as though he's channelling his inner dominant. Is he all right?

"John, love? Are you all right?" Sherlock managed to breathe out without changing the position he was in.

"I'm – I'm not going to - I mean, – I guess I just want to hold you for a moment and – look at you. Are you – are you all right?" John was concerned and responsive, but not to be deterred, it seemed. Sherlock was a little relieved, and decided to go along with John's requests.

"Aghm. Yes, I'm fine," Sherlock managed, trying to get comfortable in the position, supporting his weight with only the one foot, balancing his knee on the rim of the sink as well as both of his arms with his collar still attached, rather uncomfortably to his wrists. But he immediately felt John become gentler as he removed his fingers from deep inside Sherlock, and replaced them with just his thumb, gently fucking him, stroking his hole with the one finger.

This is what you are now Johnnyboy goddamn faggot buggering blokes proud of ourselves are we shagging men and –

John's inner voice stopped suddenly. It hadn't been around for a little while, and now it had only made a momentary appearance and was gone. What a relief. Is it gone? John closed his eyes a moment, still stroking his thumb into Sherlock. No, it was gone, now. He opened his eyes again, and saw Sherlock's patient but concerned expression. But then this new urge, voiceless, but no less upsetting for John, to hold, to press, to bind, to grip, to fuck, to possess this man. It was a strong and painful urge that came to him not without violence, though he was able to quell that aspect of it. It came, he knew with these physical bonds they'd put on Sherlock. What am I doing here? What do I think I'm doing to him? John took in the debauched scene again, letting it work on him. John's hands were on Sherlock's hips, ready to plunge deeply into him, Sherlock's wrists bound to his neck, helpless, debilitated, his legs spread with his knee's elevation to the sink, open and waiting. He likes it, this kind of play, John thought, but I have to be very careful not to hurt him. Oh my fucking Christ he is so beautiful in those restraints I could so easily fuck him right here, right now, so hard and so fast he wouldn't be able to sit for a week. No, I must be very careful not to hurt him. I must be gentle with him, gentle, he's not just mine, he's Molly's too. No, I'll –

John leaned down to Sherlock's arse, still reverently circling his hands at Sherlock's hips and lapped at his cleft with his tongue. He smiled at Sherlock's hiss of surprise, and then his moans of humiliation and pleasure. No, he probably didn't see that coming. John spent a few long moments, rimming Sherlock, letting his friend moan and sob a little before he stopped.

"I love to hear you, the sounds you make," John said when he was done. "Here, put your knee down." John directed Sherlock's knee off the sink, but kept a hand on his back, keeping Sherlock bent over at the waist, and recommenced gently fucking him with his thumb. What is so compelling about this man in ropes? In leather binding? John gave up. He gently lowered himself to Sherlock's back, putting his arms around his friend, lapping at the skin of his back with his tongue, whispering things against his skin, brushing him with his lips. John ran his hand up Sherlock's back to his neck, gripping him there, then quickly, forcing himself to do it, he unfastened the buckle on the collar, letting it slip off, and partly into the sink, the metal hardware making a clinking sound. Sherlock seemed to understand the moment was over, and rose slowly to his full height, feeling John standing up straight with him. He turned to John. He presented his wrists, still bound together for John to release, which he did, setting the cuffs and collar aside. Then he dropped to his knees, stroking Sherlock's legs as he lowered himself to the cold tiles.

"No, John, that's not nec -." Sherlock reached a hand to his friend.

"Not necessary? Ahaha." John undid each of the ankle restraints and kissed each of the ankles, slowly, taking his time, pressing his lips to the skin of each foot and holding them there for several moments. He rose to stand before his friend, and took his wrists in his hands, and kissed each of them, rubbing them in his hands.

"I don't know, I – I - ." John tried to explain.

"It's all right. Come here." Sherlock put his arms lightly around his friend, and John allowed him to hold him. "The restraints, John, the restraints are so, they're so -."

"Yes, they are," John agreed, "But they do something to me, too, I think."

"Yes, it's thrilling to see. And, John, the collar and wrists against the sink was irresistible."

"Hmm. Yes, you were very – ah – lovely – on the sink. Ahaha. Perhaps another time. I was – I was starting to frighten myself a little."

"Ah. I see. Yes, that kind of - transformation can be – upsetting. At first. I love it, though, John, it's ah – well, it's hot."

"Ahaha." It was always a little bizarre hearing Sherlock use such vernacular vocabulary.

"And I'm fairly sure Molly likes it."

"Does she?"

"Surely you know she does."

"I – I -." John was at a loss for words.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't want - to hurt you."

"If you don't want to, then you won't." Sherlock gently took a step back from John and took his wrists in his hands.

"Here," said Sherlock, "Let me show you something." Sherlock put John's wrists together in the same attitude that Sherlock's wrists had been held in the restraints when John had clipped them together only moments before. Then he pressed the wrists to John's throat, where they would have been held had John had on the collar and cuffs.

"Can you hold there?" Sherlock asked and John nodded. "Safe word is biosphere, still, but you can walk away at any time, obviously, since you're not bound." Sherlock turned John to the mirror, and gently directed him to the same pose that Sherlock had just been made to hold. With his hand, Sherlock directed John to turn his body and prop his knee on the sink as well. Then Sherlock got the tube of lubricant, and tenderly pressed his fingers into John.

"Ah – I – I-."

"You like it John, remember?" Sherlock smiled at John's conflict yet again.

"Yes, yes – but – are you -?" John couldn't finish his question.

"Hmm?" Sherlock was enjoying touching John's hip and the curve of his arse, the nip at his waist. His fingers were deep inside John, now as he watched his friend's face contort with mixed emotions. Sherlock continued to stroke his friend gently.

"John, may I – take you – here, this way?"

"What – you, you -?"

"Hmm, John? May I?" While Sherlock maintained an outwardly sad and pleading look for John's benefit, he was enjoying John's total compliance and trust in him, as he asked the impossible. He'd like to see how long he could take this little joke, but he wasn't a sadist. Finally he chuckled lightly.

"Here, put your leg down, go ahead, stand up, relax." Sherlock directed John's leg off the sink, then he backed away from John, and leaned against the wall, an elbow against the adjoining wall. John stood up and faced his friend, his face a smiling question.

"Lovely, so lovely, your trust in me," Sherlock began as he rubbed his face with his hands. "We all have urges we control. You waited, with your lovely knee on the sink, all open and ready for me. But I couldn't – I wouldn't want to unless you -. Did you think I would?"

"No, I – I don't think – I wasn't sure what you were up to." John was leaning back against the sink, his palms on the rim of it.

"Hmmhmm. I didn't think so. It's the same thing for me. I trust you, I know you won't hurt me."

Sherlock noted John's concerned expression. He knew the doctor was struggling with the way their little exercises were taking him despite the fact that Sherlock himself was benefiting from such wonderful release because of them.

"I have to admit, John, these – games – have been - are very liberating, very freeing for me. But I see you have some – difficulty lately?"

"Yes. I – I have the – urge – to do a thing, but then I find I don't want to do it, it's not – it's not right somehow."

"Hmm." Sherlock took a couple steps to the sink, and John stepped out of the way, as his friend washed his hands. John did the same when Sherlock was finished.

"Like this, like taking you in here, and – I – ultimately didn't want to – do that – like that."

"Ah, I see. Too bad." Sherlock gave John a wink and smiled. "Well, you're – testing yourself a bit, I suppose. Seeing where the urges will take you, but then ending the thing if you find it's not what you want." Sherlock shrugged, giving John the hand towel to dry his hands.

"When you put it like that, it sounds perfectly natural. Perfectly normal," said John.

"It is, love."

"Ah. Is it?"

"Yes, John."

Sherlock hated seeing John conflicted on a whole new aspect of their growing physical relationship when he seemed to be just getting over that inner voice nonsense.

"Remember our first night? When you both came to me?" Sherlock's tone became reverent whenever he spoke of the first time the three of them slept together.

"Mmm."

"I remember it so vividly," Sherlock closed his eyes, shaking his head, smiling. "You said that you and Molly had found that you were a bit of a voyeur. And then you said 'human sexuality,' and you – rolled your eyes, and lifted your hands." Sherlock copied John's shrugging motion, his hands held palms heavenward. It communicated a sort of cosmic giving up, giving in. "Do you still feel that way?"

"Of course." John smiled, knowing where Sherlock was going with this.

"Perhaps it's just a little harder to accept in oneself, rather than a patient? Or someone else?"

John smiled at Sherlock.

"I suppose you're right." John hung up the hand towel.

"Suppose?"

"You're right. Obviously."

"That's better," said Sherlock. The two men smiled at one another sheepishly, then Sherlock put his hand on the door. "Shall we go back to bed?"

"Yeah, getting cold."

Back in the bedroom, John and Sherlock heard Molly moving in bed, turning around toward the door.

"Where did you go for so long?" They could hear the pout in her voice, though they couldn't see her face.

"Oh, love, we had a little chat in the gents." John said.

"Yes, I heard voices. What about?" Molly was feeling a little bruised to be left in bed alone while a whole long conversation seemed to be going on in the bathroom. She often felt that the fledgling triad relationship they were fostering was tenuous and was afraid of something breaking it up. Would they leave me? Would they go together somewhere and leave me? No, not my John. Not my Sherlock.

"John, shall I?" Sherlock asked, slipping in on one side of Molly.

"Yes, of course," said John, slipping into bed on the other side of his wife. John was happy to let Sherlock explain their bathroom conversation, he wouldn't have the stammering, the emotionalism, the upset that John would. And he'll keep it short, too, he thought.

Sherlock related what had passed between the men succinctly, and to John's mind, accurately. Molly took it in, and put her arms around John.

"Ah, I see. Yes it is interesting, how you change in bed lately. It's quite exciting. But I didn't know you were concerned, love?"

"Mmm." John didn't know what more to say about the matter. Molly kissed him, and tried to soothe his furrowed brow with her lips. She changed the subject, when it seemed to her he didn't care to talk about it further.

"Well, as long as you're not planning to run off together and leave me."

"Molly, love." John hushed, "You'd have to come, too, darling. I can't do without you."

"Neither can I," Sherlock spooned Molly, nuzzling her neck, his hands between her legs, but only gently petting her there.

"Mmm. No. You mustn't leave me out."

"Molly, darling, no, we would have talked in front of you, but we didn't want to wake you," John voice was coloured with his genuine concern for Molly's feelings and both Sherlock and Molly heard it.

"Promise," Molly asked, but she seemed soothed.

"Oh, sweetheart," John lifted Molly's chin, and searched the darkness, trying to read her eyes, but was unsuccessful. "Of course we promise. Sherlock, tell her."

"Molly, I owe you my - I belong to you, love. I'll never leave. You're rather stuck with me, darling."

"Me, too," said John, as he nuzzled her breasts, kissing them, gently sucking them. "Tell me what you'd like, sweetheart, hmm, or may I - ?"

"Yes, John, you may - ." Molly always preferred it when John took the initiative in bed, even if it was only his usual procedure of pressing her down on her back, and taking her gently. But he surprised her tonight and sat up in bed, turning her around from him, and pulling her to sit in his lap. He lifted her against him, pressing his erection into her from behind and let her roll back and forth a bit until she was comfortable and adjusted to having him inside her. John kissed her neck and kneaded her breasts in his hands, as Sherlock watched them, smiling, as always loving the sight of them together. Then John leaned back slowly, somewhat propped up on the pillows, pulling Molly against him to lie on top of him. He spread his legs and Molly's with them.

"Sherlock, love?"

"Oh, John," Molly gasped, loving the situation, John deep inside her, pulsing into her gently at the same time she was completely open and exposed for Sherlock to do as he pleased. This isn't at all his usual thing, why did he think of this? She wondered. Is all of this because we've tied up Sherlock? Or is it just that we have Sherlock at all? A little bit of sheer heaven. John. Sherlock. Would they? Could they ever leave me?

Sherlock knelt up in bed and leaned to Molly, kissing her, then bent further to nuzzle John and kiss him, then he slid down the bed and crept in between the knees and legs of his people, pressing his mouth to their knees, their inner thighs, running his lips up and down from Molly's skin to John's and back again.

"Sherlock, ahaha." John was a little surprised at the contact. He thought Sherlock would concentrate on Molly, but was enjoying the contact with his friend. Molly was almost immediately non-verbal, moaning and cooing. She felt Sherlock's hands and lips on her thighs as he crept inexorably up to her sex, leaving a trail of kisses. She felt him press his lips between her legs, lightly, gently, only kissing, then she felt him go lower, and felt John squirm and heard him giggle. Oh, he's tonguing John, too, how lovely. It's adorable how new it still is for John, she thought. Sometimes he reacts like a newly initiated girl.

"Ahaha." John laughed, but his heavy breathing and straining gave away his excitement. "Ah, oh, god," he said, and Molly felt Sherlock's hand at her sex just where John was gently thrusting into her. She felt his fingers enter her with John's cock, then pull away again. It took her breath away.

"You are so lovely, so lovely together. I love to – oh, god – I -." Sherlock trailed off, and Molly felt him lower his mouth to her and felt his tongue lap at her, and then at John's thrusting cock, kissing, and licking them both as John continued to stroke into Molly.

"Jesus Christ, love," John managed, straining, arching into the pleasures he was feeling. Sherlock smiled, recognizing John's reaction as somewhat mixed and unsure, somewhat unprepared. But he's doing so well, in general, completely enchanting, thought Sherlock. He put one of his fingers in his mouth, wetting it, then slipped it into John's tight opening, gently stroking into him and was delighted to find him still wet and slippery from the lubricant they'd used in the bathroom.

"Oh, Christ, ah – ah – it's good, it's, it's ah-." Sherlock smiled and almost chuckled to hear John's conflicted sounding comments, when he was clearly having a ball. Then Sherlock put his mouth, his lips, his tongue on Molly, just where he knew she liked it. He pressed his tongue between her folds slowly, in no rush at all, as he stroked John just as slowly, brushing against his prostate with each gentle, loving stroke.

"Oh, fuck, love, that's - oh, shit -." John was starting to thrust a little more strenuously as was Molly. After some few moments, John's increased urgency caused him to pop out of Molly, and Sherlock didn't waste a moment before sinking his mouth down John's shaft, working his tongue along the underside.

"Oh, god, Sherlock, Sherlock, love," John gasped at the sudden new contact with his friend. But Molly reached for Sherlock's hair and begged softly.

"Please, please," Molly tugged at Sherlock's hair, and Sherlock obliged her, by gently pressing John's erection back into her. He watched them thrust together for several strokes, then couldn't help but lean in and tongue them again where their flesh coupled. One flesh, he thought and wanted to be part of it, a part of them as he ran his tongue up and down the base of John's thrusting shaft and all along the lips of Molly's sex where John was pulsing in. He breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of them together as he reverently kissed and tongued them there where they were connected.

"So lovely, you're so lovely together, I want, I wish - " the couple heard Sherlock say.

"You're lovely with us, we love you," Molly said, thrusting harder against John as she became a little more frantic for her release.

"You're with us, love," John said, reaching his hand to Sherlock's arm, then gripping the back of his neck, "You're with us right now, love."

"Yes, yes, I know, I just - ." Sherlock saw he was potentially killing their moment as they worried that he was getting maudlin again this evening. To prevent this, Sherlock intensified his efforts to bring Molly to her finish, which he managed fairly easily, bringing his tongue to her favorite spot, and being as attentive as he could. Molly called out the names of her lovers as she sobbed her release, collapsing backward against John.

"Molly, love, ok?" Sherlock asked, kissing her and stroking her hair.

"Mmm, Sherlock, love you."

"Love you too," said Sherlock and he easily slipped Molly up off John's cock, and let her relax back into the mattress, then he took John into his mouth.

"Oh, god, love, that's – that's good – fuck, fuck, fuck." It didn't take John very long and Sherlock was thrilled to feel John's hands in his hair, gripping his curls gently, but firmly, guiding his head as he sucked him. When John was finished, Sherlock licked and kissed John's still pulsing erection until his friend reached a hand to his head, signalling him to stop. Sherlock slid up in bed to kiss him.

"All right?" Sherlock asked, stroking his friend's cheek, licking his throat.

"Yes, love," John murmured, biting his tongue before he said 'thank you,' knowing how Sherlock hated that, stroking his friend's face and hair, instead.

"Sherlock, love?" Molly beckoned to him, and he gently mounted her where she lay, now, just next to John. He was able to kiss John from time to time as he stroked into Molly, nuzzling her neck as well. He took her very tenderly as he held one of John's hands, his fingers laced between his own. When he came he noticed he wasn't able to repress a few tears, a few happy sobs of nothing more than gratitude, relief and love. Even after all this time, these months, what was it now, six months? He still couldn't believe his good fortune at having them with him in this way. John and Molly Molly and John. His friends put their arms around him and covered him with kisses, murmuring little love words, holding him tightly. One by one they dropped off to sleep this way, bundled up tightly against one another, so warm without the duvet, no one bothered to reach for it and they slept this way almost all the way through until dawn.

There you go

Thanks for waiting

Next instalment is almost allllll Sherlolly – I wanted to do it here, but ran out of room. No more monster chapters!

Please let me hear from you for heaven's sake!

I'm desperate to hear what you think :-D