Ahaha, my little darlings, here's another one.
ALMOST DONE!
One or two more instalments after this.
(Hey, sorry, that idea of 5 minutes from 221B to John and Molly's either by street or 'back way,' is ridiculous. They'll need a half hour.
Toooooo lazy to update the last chapter, however. Maybe laterz)
Previously in John's Interludes for Three:
"All right, sorry to keep you – it's just that - ."
"Don't be ridiculous - ." John turned to pick up his bag.
"It's just that the flat is so terribly – terribly – empty when you or Molly leave – I just - ." Sherlock stopped, unable to believe what he'd just said, then hurriedly added "Get home, now, get home to Molly, yes? I'll see you there."
"Sherlock - ." John was blinking his eyes at the depth of pain in Sherlock's inadvertent and sudden admission.
"Please, go, it's all right, I'll see you in a few minutes."
John hesitated, but it was true – it would be only ten minutes at the most, usually only five before Sherlock was dropping into their bedroom from the fire escape after they'd left 221B.
"Ok, ten minutes, but Sherlock - ."
"I'll probably beat you there," Sherlock threw his coat on, and fixed his scarf around his neck, whisking away from John to the bathroom. John paused a moment watching Sherlock stride away from him, but he was unwilling to have his partner beat him to the flat with the window to the bedrooms till closed. John turned off a lamp and left the flat, trotting down the stairs at a good clip. He's still so alone with it all, for god's sake, he can't even say things like that without being embarrassed. I suppose we help him a little, but he still feels so all alone. Molly's right. Oh, he's a handful. But Molly helps me with him. And he helps me with her, and they have one another to deal with me. It's – it's quite perfect. Ahaha.
John trotted home, almost jogging the whole quarter mile, not wanting to leave Sherlock out on the fire escape looking in through a locked window, not wanting Molly to come home to an empty flat.
Honeymoon's Over? III
Sherlock opened the bathroom window and hiked himself onto the small sill, sitting on it, then spun himself around, folding his legs up, and then unfolding them out the window. His feet located the fairly sturdy seeming bit of pipe he used in order to get a foothold, and grabbing the pipe higher up, he swung out of the building, and quickly grabbed the hand rail of the adjoining building's fire escape. The section of fire escape handrail that he'd been grabbing during this time of visiting Molly and John's flat by the 'back way,' had become loose and made a creaky complaint as he used it to hoist himself onto the steps of the fire escape, and climbed to the top of the building. The last time, I swear, he thought to himself. I love it, but it must end tonight. It's not only dangerous, it's apologetic. It's – it's – it borders on embarrassment. And I'm not embarrassed, not apologetic – I – no, tonight I swear to god, John and Molly will have to come to see how ridiculous this is.
He managed to pull himself up onto the roof from the fire escape, and dusted himself off a bit. Now he could look at London.
Usually he was in a rush to get to Molly and John, but tonight the bit of sky line the roof afforded was particularly captivating, and Sherlock paused to take it in, only regretting that he didn't have a Gauloise to light up. The sky was quite clear, and the sunset was a blood red, spilling over the tops of the buildings to the west of 221B. He only paused a few moments, though, for the longer he stood, he knew the less light he would have to make his little journey and it was a bit dangerous, after all. He started his walk across the few buildings that would bring him to John and Molly's flat.
Several buildings were quite close together, and required only a slight hop, or an awkwardly wide step to get from one to the next. But the last separation between buildings, the last one before John and Molly's building, was a three foot jump. Oh, perhaps it's a little less than that, Sherlock thought as he approached his last hurdle. He sized it up. Hmm, yes, two and three quarters, he saw. He'd jumped it easily every time for the past few weeks. There was never a problem. He gauged it carefully again, then backed up for the running start he usually took and jumped it. This time he misjudged the distance, however, in the beautiful but treacherous gathering darkness of twilight. His left foot, the one he'd lead with, touched down as usual, but he caught the top of his right instep on the little rise at the edge of the wall of the second building, and he tripped, his landing onto John and Molly's roof a fumbled disaster.. He fell, a stumbling kind of fall, legs pumping hard, trying to stay under him finally loosing the battle. He pitched forward and was laid flat out, catching himself a bit with his hands. He lay on his face assessing the damage and realized he was fairly unscathed, but noticed he'd hit his face on some kind of vent that was sticking out of the slanted roof. He picked himself up and accusingly peered over his shoulder to the bit of raised wall he'd tripped on and in that moment, he glimpsed the possibility he might have fallen three stories into the alley. He stepped over to the edge of the roof and looked over, a chilling reminder of another time he'd looked over the edge of a building.. He glimpsed John's guilt and agony. He glimpsed Molly's as well. He imagined being deprived of either of them because of such a stupid and wholly unnecessary stunt as this. Last time. Last time. This is the last.
He looked at his hands, seeing that he'd scraped them rather badly on the roof's surface, as well as whatever dirt there was there, it was too dark to see properly now, but he was fairly sure there was some light glinting off something in his palms. Is that glass? He wondered, as he looked at his hands. How did any glass get up here, and further, how did it get broken? Ah! Yes, a bit of glass, he realized as he tried to brush his hands off. From here it was easy, though. He approached the shaky fire escape with a bit of weariness, now, though it was only a few more steps to Molly's and John's waiting window. The grit and glass still in his palms made things a little more tricky than usual and he gingerly fingered the railing, carefully, carefully clamouring down the rickety laddered metal construction. He saw that the window he usually entered was open and he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't beaten John or Molly to the flat, as he lowered himself into the room.
"There you are. Come here to me, love," Molly was in his arms, but pulled away quickly, as he turned fully toward her. "What's happened to your face?"
"My face?" Sherlock asked.
"You've a nasty scrape, it's bleeding."
"Oh, I took a little tumble up there. It's nothing, I think I have some glass in my hands, though, that's really, that's more - ."
"Oh, god, look at this. Darling what on earth?" Molly tutted. "John's in the bath, but he won't mind, come on." She helped him out of his coat, and Molly knocked on the bathroom.
"Must we?" asked Sherlock, "He'll be angry with me."
"For what?"
"Well – I – I've been – that is, there's a bit of a jump I take. That's how I stumbled."
"Oh, god. Look, just tell him you tripped - ."
"Hmm."
"Just tell him – Well, I'll leave it to you, but you'll have to let me clean it, your hands and your face." Molly knocked on the door, and opened it, sticking her head in.
"He's got a scratch, love, can we come in?"
"What's happened? Ten minutes I leave him – come in, come in, what is it?"
Molly conducted Sherlock into the bathroom where the men exchanged 'heys.' John made to get out of the tub.
"No, no, no, love, stay and finish, yes? I've got this, doctor, all right? He's fine, just a bit of a trip and a scrape."
"Sherlock, you're right, no more of this, we – it's not at all worth you're safety."
John settled back down into the tub, but remained attentive as Molly disinfected Sherlock's hands and face.
"What did you knock your face on? I didn't realize it was unsafe, Sherlock. Why didn't you tell me?" John said.
"Well, it has been rather exciting, coming in this way, catching you in the middle of things. Quite charming, hmm?" Sherlock winked at John, and pressed a kiss into Molly's hair as she worked at cleaning and dressing his hands.
"Oh," John blushed, rubbing his hand on his face, the water in the bath subtly lapping at the tub's walls as he moved his hand. He remembered two nights in particular that Sherlock had come in through the bedroom window when he and Molly had been inflagrante. They were making love quite vocally in bed and had been unaware of Sherlock for some long minutes before their friend made himself known in the room by actually applauding when the two of them were spent.
"Yes," Molly smiled wickedly into Sherlock's eyes, "Quite charming indeed." She loved it when Sherlock surprised them. "I'll be sad when you stop."
"I'll just have to find new ways to surprise you," Sherlock adjusted his tone to his velvety bedroom voice, and turned his attention to John, whose blush was only just beginning to abate. "That's a lovely shade, John, suits you. It's quite - alluring for you to be shy still, after - the time we've been together."
John surged to a standing position in the bath, frankly exposing his toned naked body to his wife and friend. Both Molly and Sherlock paused as they watched the water cascade down John's well muscled body. Despite his half hard erection, he managed to remain quite casual as he reached for a towel without taking his eyes off his wife and friend, flashing his smiled back and forth between the two.
"Not too shy, I hope." John said with confidence but without arrogance.
"Oh my god," Molly and Sherlock each breathed quietly, looking at John, then they snapped their attention back to one another as they realized they'd said it at the same time, and giggled to one another as John towelled off. He was at their side in a moment.
"Let me see, no offense, Molly, I just want to see, hmm?" John pulled Sherlock to face him, and clinically looked at his partner's face and the scrape he'd just sustained on the roof. "We'll have this side of your face in shreds before we're done with you, hmm?" John remembered slugging his friend in the face, then the cut when he'd gone into the Thames, now this. "Nice job, Molly, looks good and clean. Bit of gauze? Might scar a bit."
"Yes, love, here," she said as she handed John a piece of gauze with some adhesive tape. "Oh, it won't be too noticeable, I hope."
"Doesn't matter. As long as you're both here – to patch me up?" Sherlock's voice was unexpectedly plaintiff, and as John applied the dressing to Sherlock's face, the doctor and Molly exchanged a brief glance.
Oh, they have a secret for me! Sherlock deduced from the gravity of the couple's silent communication, which he easily spotted. They're keeping something from me that they will reveal, and it's, it's, it's to be delightful! Some secret surprise designed to – to – to – What? Something to do with my pathetic need of them. My pathetic loneliness when they're away. What what what? I'll have to wait. Oh, god, I adore them.
John was focused on Sherlock's face again, his hand still on his jaw, but was now more affectionately involved than clinically. The doctor smiled, stroking his friend's chin with the pad of his thumb.
"I'm sorry – I – I don't care if they know – about us – I - ." John couldn't resist and reached up to brush his lips against his friend's, lightly. "God, you might have broken something, you might have – you might have fallen - ?"
"Nonesense. Just a bit of a tumble." Sherlock lightly touched John's throat with his finger tips, trying to reassure him. He sighed as Molly moved between the two men, and wrapped herself around John, her lips lightly brushing his collarbone, as she pushed his robe away, exposing his skin. Sherlock put his other arm around her, pressing his lips into her hair as the three stood closely together in the tiny bathroom of John and Molly's flat. They held each other quietly as they kissed and petted one another murmuring softly, whispering.
"I like standing up with you –." Molly whispered. "No one has the middle, no one's on the outside."
The two men murmured their assent, and then the three were wordless for some few moments as they continued their gentle petting and holding.
"What about Anderson and Donovan?" Molly asked at length.
"Mmm. Doesn't matter. We'll go back to our usual routine at Sherlock's. Let them try." John said.
"I fear I haven't applied myself fully to the problem," Sherlock admitted. "I will – do so, now. I'm confident we can come up with something to do about it. Don't worry, hmm?"
"But not tonight, yes?" John said, gently prompting his wife and friend to move out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, and moved in a clump toward the bed.
Molly and John slid into bed John naked, and Molly in her dressing gown, and Sherlock stood, slowly undressing as his lovely people kissed and petted one another before him. He'd undone his shirt, and left it hanging on his shoulders when John pushed Molly's dressing gown down to her waist, exposing her lovely breasts for him to suck. Molly was sighing and cooing to her husband rather prettily, and Sherlock purred to hear her, though he was still only standing, watching. Sherlock stepped closer to the bed, and pulled their duvet out of his line of view, exposing the pair to his hungry gaze. John's erection was already at full attention. Sherlock slipped his shirt off, and placed it on a chair.
John untied Molly's dressing gown, and pushed it out of his way as he worked his way down her body, kissing her abdomen, her navel, the cleft of her sex. She vocalized more loudly as John's tongue danced between her legs, teasing her, waiting a few more moments, a few more moments before venturing deeper inside. John had pushed Molly's legs open, and was now kneeling between her legs, his own backside high and exposed, near the edge of the mattress and Sherlock approached quietly and placed a hand on the small of John's back..
"Ah," John raised his head.
"Shh, please John, as you were, hmm? No cause for alarm, see? Trousers still on?" Sherlock smiled reassuringly at his friend as he stroked the doctor's backside, kneading the muscles under the skin. John reddened, and took Sherlock's meaning.
"Oh," said John as he bit his lip, "Ok." And he returned his attentions to Molly's sex.
Sherlock gently caressed John's hips. Oh, he thought, not 'if,' but 'when,' How lovely. Only to wait. I can do it. He rubbed his palms up John's back to his shoulders, gripping his friend there with some strength, but allowing the doctor the ability to continue to move his neck and shoulders as he continued to taste Molly. Sherlock smiled at Molly, who looked up at him, briefly, her eyes glazed and darkened, her world quite in a fog.
"Lovely, Molly. John." He murmured as he continued to caress and rub John's hips and back, lowering his head now to kiss and lick John's back and flank, biting gently here and there. He could feel John's reaction to the touch of his mouth on him. The doctor's muscles tensed under Sherlock's hands, the skin rippled. Sherlock placed a trail of tiny kisses from the small of John's back to his back side, then at his cleft.
"Ah," John's slight exclamation was muffled as it was directed against Molly's wet skin.
Sherlock pressed his tongue deeper into John's cleft, then reaching down, pressed John's knees wider apart. He pressed the John's cheeks apart and lapped at John's puckered hole, lingering there, moving slowly, relishing John's reactions of surprise and pleasure.
"Ah, god," John said almost indiscernibly as he moaned against Molly's sex.
Finally Sherlock pressed his tongue into John as far as he could manage and fucked him with his tongue.
"Fuck," John's word was just about understandable.
Sherlock kept his hands busy, kneading John's muscles, his legs, his backside, scratching gently with his nails, all the while fucking John with his tongue.
"Oh, god, John, love," Molly was more vocal, now, and Sherlock peeked at her for a moment to watch her writhe against John's face, her abdominal muscles churning a wave into her body as she pressed herself against John, pulsing against him again and again.
Sherlock returned his attention to John, kissing him and tonguing him for a few more minutes, then he sucked two of his fingers and replaced his tongue with them, pressing deep into the heat of John's body.
"Oh, god," John breathed into Molly's sex, muffled and wet.
Sherlock leaned down and continued to tongue John around his hole, up and down his cleft, and then concentrated on finding his special place.
"Ah!"
"Yes, hello." Sherlock had located John's prostate. He spoke to John softly, so as not to break the mood, but loudly enough to be heard, he hoped. " John, love, you've asked me a couple of times, if I'd like to come by just having you touch me, so I must surmise that you'd like that done for you, hmm?"
"Mmph." Was all John could manage.
"Yes, that's what I thought." Sherlock said no more, but watched as Molly came closer to her finish. Sherlock brushed against John's sweet spot with more and more frequency the closer Molly came.
"I'm close, John, Sherlock," Molly said, and Sherlock leant down to tongue John's skin some more as he continued to stroke into him, brushing against the prostate with every push. Molly came like a train, moaning loudly, almost shouting, her legs wrapped around John's shoulders, her hands gripping his hair as she ground her hips against his mouth. John continued to grip Molly's hips, as the litany of swearing began and continued for a rather prolonged moment as he pushed and bucked against Sherlock's hands and mouth. He finally stiffened and shook, splashing his finish onto the bedsheet. His knees shook as he finally let himself collapse down onto Molly, then roll away to one side. Heavy breathing and quiet followed for some minutes as man and wife recovered from the oblivion of their crises. John opened his eyes at length but didn't at once notice where Sherlock had gone.
"Sherlock, love?" He called softly.
"Ah waid?" Sherlock asked softly, leaning in the doorway as he cleaned his teeth.
"Sherlock, love," Molly breathed, reaching her hand into the air.
"Oh, god, Sherlock, you've – you've - ." John didn't know quite how describe what Sherlock had just done.
"Hmmhmm," Sherlock turned back into the bathroom, and finished with his teeth. He washed his face, then, and returned to the bedroom with a towel which he placed on the wet spot. He slid into bed next to Molly, kissing her, reaching for John, as well. With Molly in the middle, the three returned to their gentle petting of only thirty or forty minutes before. Petting, kissing, murmuring, little bites, little licks until one by one they each dropped off to sleep.
ooooooooooOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooo oooooo
"Next week?" Sherlock played at being surprised and offended.
"Yes, next week, love," Molly said, panicked, as John got back into bed from using the loo.
"Yes, Sherlock, next week." John joined in, surprised that he had to remind his friend about the plans for Molly's birthday trip.
"But, for god's sake, for two whole nights. Is it quite necessary, Molly?"
"Sherlock, I told you - ." John warned.
"John, I'm just teasing her, of course I know it's next week. Of course I know it's two nights. Don't worry, Molly love, I'm coming, too."
"Oh, good." Molly sighed, and settled against Sherlock's chest, then reached behind her to draw John closer to her and John budged in.
"And John, you've done all your – errands?" Molly asked.
"Yes, love, the car is all in place and – we're alllll set. No worries."
Sherlock could read between the lines of Molly and John's conversation and easily understood that there had been some secret errand. What on earth have they gotten up to? He thought. They mean to surprise me with something – and on Molly's birthday. Very clever. Don't they know with whom they are dealing? He smiled to himself.
"Yes," John said, leaning across Molly to speak to Sherlock. "We know you're deducing away, but you don't know do you? Ahaha?"
"No. But I will. Soon enough. I imagine. No?"
"Yes, love," Molly hushed, petting his chest. "Don't try too hard to guess, though. It will spoil your surprise."
Sherlock blinked in surprise. Don't try too hard? To guess? Who did she think she was talking to? But he realized in the same moment that he didn't want to spoil his surprise. His mind floated backward in time. Christmases and birthdays long, long past. He'd always deduced, he'd always either guessed or discovered through snooping what gifts he would receive. It was almost as though it had become his job. But this was different. She's 's delicious not knowing. I'll try. I'll try – not to try – too hard.
"Yes, love, don't try too hard, hmm?" John reached across Molly and combed his fingers through Sherlock's curls.
"We love you Sherlock." Molly yawned toward the end of her words.
"Yes, love, we love you."
Oh! Sherlock thought. No, no, that's – -well – it would be so twee.
ooooooooooOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOoooooo oooooo
One or two chapters left after this.
Hmm, it might take two, after all, but maybe not!
Thanks to alllll of you who have chimed in and read this crazy fic of mine!
But I still want to hear from you!
No matter how late you might feel you've come to the party, it's still on,
and I'd love to have your reaction(s)!
Ok, next chapter for Sunday! (I hope!)
Oh, I meant to tell ya!
I entered the world of tumblr.
I don't know how it works.
But I've been reposting some images that randomly and vaguely illustrate this fic
and Jollock (Or Josherlolly) in general.
It's under the same username at
Hope you like it!
It's NOT for under 18, and it's VERY NSFW.
Might be dangerous.