InvisibleBlade: Sherlock

Me: John, Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan

Warnings for this chapter: teasing, orgasm denial, Anderson being a dick, and some angst near the end.

Chapter 5 – Games at the Yard

John glared after his retreating figure, smirking slightly at the knowledge that he had wrecked Sherlock's arse so badly he could barely walk. He sat up and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing and trying to think of something so utterly repulsive in order to get his erection to wane. It worked and he managed to make it up the stairs to his room without much difficulty. He rummaged through his wardrobe until he found the trousers Sherlock mentioned. They weren't skin tight like the blue jeans the women wore nowadays, but they certainly sat on his hips perfectly and made his arse look fantastic.

If we're going to play this game then I won't make it easy for him either, John smirked. He plucked his red button-down off its hanger, knowing how Sherlock's cheeks had turned almost the same color as the shirt the last time he'd worn it. He pulled on the clothes, purposefully 'forgetting' his pants, and put on his socks and shoes before heading back downstairs. He was perfectly composed but he was not prepared for the beautiful sight that greeted him when he returned to the living room.

Sherlock was wearing his purple shirt, or, as many of the fan girls reading John's blog called it, the purple shirt of sex. The top three buttons were undone, revealing a tuft of chest hair. He wore a slim suit and tight trousers that showed just what was going on underneath the material. His hair was slicked back with gel and he was wearing eyeliner to make his eyes look even wider with lust. John gulped at the sight and couldn't tear his eyes away from the bulge in Sherlock's trousers, his own erection back with full force. God fucking dammit, he swore, bracing his hand against the doorframe to keep himself upright.

'You, um... You look...' John stammered. Absolutely fuckable, like you were carved out of marble, abso-fucking-lutely delicious, and hot as fucking hell all came to mind but John was too dumbstruck with lust to voice them. He just gulped and stared at Sherlock's eyes rimmed with black, caught in his gaze, mesmerized. Sherlock walked over to John, beaming wickedly. He eyed John up.

'You don't look too bad yourself, soldier,' he laughed, kissing John and pressing himself tightly to him, rubbing his erection against John's. John moaned into the kiss, moving his hips against Sherlock's, his hands gripping Sherlock's suit jacket tightly.

'You're a bad man,' he whispered against Sherlock's lips, nipping his bottom lip playfully.

'Oh the worst I agree,' Sherlock growled, increasing the intensity of his movements. John leaned against the wall, spreading his legs so Sherlock would have better access. He began panting and met Sherlock thrust for thrust, ripples of pleasure traveling throughout his body. He was close, and he knew if he came then he wouldn't get his reward after dinner.

'Stop. Sherlock, stop. I'm too close,' he warned through gritted teeth. Sherlock giggled, ramming one last thrust against John before stepping back.

'Right, we should be off,' he said, sliding one hand to caress John's arse.

'You bastard,' John spat, a grin on his face despite his tone. 'If I survive this little game of ours then I am going to ride you so hard we both won't be able to walk for a week.'

Sherlock clicked his tongue. 'I believe it's my turn to ride you.' His fingers darted to John's erection, palming it. John clenched his eyes shut and threw his head back, barely managing to bite back a moan.

'No, no, stop, too close, fuck,' John gasped. 'What... What I meant by riding you was that you would be fucking me but... But I'd be sitting on top of you. Your cock would still be up my arse, only you'd be on your back and I'd be sitting on your cock basically.'

'Oh,' Sherlock purred. 'I do like the sound of that.' He smiled maniacally. 'I can't wait to drive you home.'

'Jesus Christ,' John groaned, the image of Sherlock fucking him like that made his cock even harder, if that was even possible. 'Go... Go get a cab. I need to calm myself down.' He closed his eyes and tried to picture something disgusting again. The head in the fridge, the taste of the octopus he'd had to eat for a case once, stepping in a puddle of water with socks on, anything to get his mind off his aching groin.

'Right!' Sherlock exclaimed, clapping his hands in glee. 'Good luck with that,' he called over shoulder.

'Fuck you you sexy bastard!' John called after him, grinning like a mad man. He sighed and rested his head against the wall, focusing on at least getting his heart rate down. He breathed deeply, imagining a calming scene in his mind where he could relax. And it worked too, his body relaxed but his prick was still hard as a rock. This was going to be a difficult case, especially if he had to run anywhere. With a frustrated sigh he pushed himself off the wall and walked down the stairs, albeit with some difficulty, and met Sherlock at the kerb.

'Feeling better?' Sherlock asked in mock worry as the cab pulled up. He eyed John up, licking his lips.

'Not much, but I'll manage,' John replied, ignoring looking at Sherlock as he knew what that would do to him. He climbed in the cab and slid across the seat, wincing as both his arse and prick were so sensitive. As soon as the cab door closed the atmosphere changed. He was in the back seat of a cab with his new lover and they were playing a game to see if they could both last until dinner and the air was thick with tension and want. John gulped, refusing to look at Sherlock, and told the cabbie to take them to the Yard, his voice heavy with how much he wanted the man beside him to swallow his cock and bring him to orgasm in a fucking London cab.

'I'm sorry honey,' Sherlock pouted teasingly, placing a hand on John's lap. 'I promise to make it up to you.' John stiffened at the touch, his aching cock seeming to gravitate to Sherlock's hand. He risked a glance at the cabbie and caught his gaze in the rear view mirror. He was glaring at them, but John minutely shook his head, telling him they weren't going to go that route today. The man just shook his head and sighed, turning his attention back to the road.

'Sherlock, you had better fucking worship me tonight,' John growled, his voice low so the cabbie wouldn't overhear. 'And by "worship" I mean you had better fuck me so fucking hard that I can't sit down for at least a week.'

'We'll see,' Sherlock whispered back, groping John's thigh ever so slightly. 'We'll see,' he reiterated.

'You're fucking infuriating,' John grit out, trying to stop his hips from thrusting into Sherlock's hand. One of his own latched onto Sherlock's thigh and gripped it tightly, if not to tease him as well but to let him know of the state John himself was in. Oh Sherlock knew what state John was in. It was rather sweet. Fortunately his mind was in case mode so there was little room for his brain to comprehend what John's hand was doing to him.

'Jonathan! Not in public,' he tusked playfully, batting the offending hand away. John blushed crimson and snatched his hand away, putting both hands under his bum to keep from touching Sherlock or himself. He grumbled to himself the rest of the way, muttering how the whole game was idiotic and how Sherlock was being a teasing prick, but then his voice of reason would come in and explain that he had signed up for it and Sherlock was just playing the game. Damn it all to hell.

Sherlock took hold of John's shoulder. 'We're here dear,' he smirked. 'Come on. Time to put on a good show.' Sherlock meant that he was going to be an utter genius whilst John praised him but it was clear that the cabbie didn't see it like that. John grinned as he understood what Sherlock meant, but one glance at the cabbie's shocked expression and he turned as red as his shirt. He opened his mouth to explain but no words came out. He snapped his jaw shut and just tossed a random assortment of bills at the man, not caring if it was too much or not enough. He just needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. He scrambled out the door and slammed it shut before Sherlock could crawl out after him. He didn't want to witness that, just imagining it sent sparks directly to his prick and he clenched his hands into fists at his side, his nails biting into the skin.

Sherlock winced as the full force of the door slamming rippled through him. He glared at the cabbie for a long moment before retreating out of the cab and cautiously walking over to John. The detective smiled to himself. John was a beautiful crimson shade of red, causing his blue eyes to brighten in volume, and the bulge within his jeans was large and prominent, jutting out and almost looking as annoyed as the man it belonged to. The detective reached for the fair haired man's hand, gently linking their fingers together and squeezing.

'I'm sorry. I'll let up a little now we're here,' he said, genuinely feeling a little bad for John. A little bit.

'You don't have to let up, Sherlock,' John sighed, squeezing his hand back. 'I just... I didn't like the way that cabbie was looking at us. Like we were... Like our relationship was...' He struggled to find the right word, squeezing Sherlock's hand tightly. 'But I don't care. I love you and that's all that matters.' He finally looked up at Sherlock, his breath catching at the sight, and pulled him in for a quick kiss. 'Now let's go solve a murder,' he grinned against Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock slid his hand down John's body till it reached his hard on. He smiled and breathed out, 'I love you too.' His eyes darkened, enhanced by the eyeliner. 'Now do lead the way. I adore a good murder.'

John sucked in a breath, bucking his hips into Sherlock's hand, his own dark eyes boring into Sherlock's. If they were really going to do this, then he was going to walk in there with his head held high and his cock hard as a fucking rock. But there was no way he was going to walk into the Yard without setting some ground rules first.

'Some rules first, Sherlock. One, no arse grabbing of any kind. It's too painful for both of us right now. Two, no crotch grabbing, not in front of anyone at least. Keep that private. Three, if anyone asks, don't tell them it's because we're toying with each other until dinner. They'll all know anyway, but I'm not ready to confirm it just yet. I want to at least have had sex with you on every surface of the flat first.' He grinned widely at the prospect and waited for Sherlock's confirmation.

'Understood,' Sherlock replied, voice trembling with the mere image of what John had just suggested floated in his mind.

'No touching. I presume eye sex is still allowed though,' Sherlock said with a lick of his lips.

'Oh most definitely,' John agreed, staring deep into Sherlock's eyes. They were a pale green today, but that might have been the eyeliner affecting the color. 'But you can still touch me on my arm or back or something. Just nothing so intimate. That's just for us and no one else, alright?' He squeezed Sherlock's hand again before planting a small kiss on Sherlock's cheek.

'What, like this?' Sherlock quizzed, letting his hand migrate to the small of John's back.

'Yes. Precisely that,' John smiled, reciprocating the touch himself. Sherlock purred, throwing his head back in approval. He hummed softly and nodded. His hand curled against the material of John's shirt tightly.

'This should be fun.' John was too lost in the moment to truly comprehend Sherlock's words. All he saw was Sherlock's exposed neck and his lips gravitated toward it, planting a kiss beside Sherlock's Adam's apple before his teeth nibbled on it.

'We should really go inside,' he whispered against Sherlock's neck. 'I'll lead the way, shall I?'

Sherlock bit his lip. 'Yes dear,' he croaked, his voice feebly cracking. John's touch made the detective's heart flutter and his cock twinge.

'Mmm. I think this will be fun,' John smirked, nipping the underside of Sherlock's jaw before turning and nearly sashaying toward the Yard's main entrance, glancing over his shoulder and winking at a rather dumbstruck Sherlock. Sherlock groaned. This man would surely be the death of him. He hurried after John and entered the crime scene where they were greeted by a most unhappy Lestrade.

Lestrade glared at the two men as they entered his office, but it quickly faded into a look of utter shock at their appearances. 'Do I even want to know?' he asked.

'No. Definitely not,' John smirked, subtly running a finger down Sherlock's spine. Sherlock felt himself inhale sharply. Oh he was going to get John back and when he did he wasn't going to have any remorse.

'What have we got?' Sherlock rubbed his hands together, trying to steady his ragged breathing. He moved his hand to rest just above John's arse. It was still technically his back and not his arse so it wasn't exactly against the rules that had been laid out. John's breath hitched in his throat and he felt his cheeks heat up at how close Sherlock's hand was to his arse.

'Triple homicide over at Brixton. No murder weapon, the doors were locked from the inside, and so far nothing in common with the victims,' Lestrade rattled off, handing a file of crime scene photos over to Sherlock. 'We know some sort of gas was used, we just don't know what. The windows were sealed shut so the gas couldn't escape. We had to clear the building before we could allow anyone to investigate. Don't worry, the gas should still be in the victims' tissues. Talk to Anderson about having a look at those,' Greg explained when Sherlock looked up sharply at the whole 'we let the gas escape so we could get the bodies' part.

'Anderson!' Sherlock yelled gruffly, shaking his head. 'He won't work with me.'

The hand above John's arse began to stroke his lover tenderly. It was as though by doing that the irritation that Anderson caused lessened. John allowed the touch for a moment but shifted slightly so Sherlock would know he needed to stop.

'Just rattle off some deduction about him and Donovan,' he whispered to him. 'He's usually too in shock to deny you access to bodies.'

Greg just raised an eyebrow, but knew it was the truth. 'Sorry, but Anderson's all I've got. He's the forensic anthropologist on the scene and that Hooper girl down at the morgue isn't due to get them for another day. The case is pretty fresh, and I know you like to get them as soon as I hear about them.' He glanced up at the two and blushed, remembering the awkwardness from earlier. He opened his mouth to say something, but decided it would be best to ignore the issue altogether. He shook his head, knowing that if they weren't in a relationship already they were bound to get together at some point. It was pretty damn obvious how they felt about each other, even if they seemed utterly clueless. He smiled despite himself and said, 'I'm happy for the two of you, really.'

'Kind of you,' Sherlock muttered, pausing his hand's movements and sending John a nervous glance. He growled under his breath and sighed. 'Anderson will have to do.'

John glanced back at Sherlock, offering him a small smile. 'We would appreciate it if you wouldn't go spreading it around, Greg,' he said, turning to look at him. 'We're not ready for everyone to know.'

Greg snorted and waved his hand in the air, letting them know that he wasn't finished yet. 'If you boys wanted to keep this a secret, what's with your attire? I mean, really?'

Sherlock glared and took a step forwards. He was taller than Greg so took pleasure in making the D.I. feel intimidated.

'What we choose to wear and the reason behind it is not something that concerns you.'

Greg was having none of it. He stood up to his full height (which wasn't much compared to Sherlock), crossed his arms over his chest, and squared his shoulders. He didn't even need to speak. John knew was he was threatening, and he grabbed Sherlock's upper arm to pull him back.

'Sherlock, it was an innocent question. He wasn't mocking us,' John said. 'But yes, the reasons behind our attire don't concern you, Greg. That is between me and Sherlock. Now, we'd still like to help with this case. What else have you got?'

God Sherlock wanted nothing more than to snog John right there and then. He was beautiful even when he was annoyed and coming to his defense.

'I apologize. Now I think it's time I learnt more about these bodies. Where's Anderson?'

'Where do you think he is?' Greg nodded his head behind them and they turned to look. Anderson was leaning against Donovan's desk, glaring at them in Lestrade's office. 'Anything else about the case you'll get from him and the bodies. I've done my part.' Greg sat in his chair and sipped at his coffee, propping his feet up on his desk. 'He's been particularly foul today guys. Be warned.'

John nodded and held the door open for Sherlock, grabbing his arm again before he could bully Anderson into letting them help.

'Play just a tad nicer and I'll reward you later,' John whispered in Sherlock's ear, squeezing his arm gently. 'If he is especially foul, I give you permission to give him hell. But only if I give the go ahead. Understood?'

Sherlock groaned. 'Fine, but I shall have to take my frustration out somewhere else. And considering what we're going to be doing tonight I hope you're prepared to be bed bound for at least a week. A week being the minimum.'

'I look forward to it,' John grinned, pinching Sherlock's side. Greg snickered but let the boys alone. It was about fucking time in his opinion.

John stood off to Sherlock's side as they approached Anderson. He looked more pissed than usual to see Sherlock, and Donovan was trying her best to ignore him as well. That was never a good sign.

'Anderson,' John nodded politely. 'Greg sent us over to get a look at the bodies of the triple homicide.'

'I know why he sent you here,' Anderson sneered. 'And I'm not gonna let you two poofs look at anything.' Donovan's head snapped up from the paperwork she was pretending to do, embarrassment etched all over her face. John clutched onto Sherlock's shirt tightly, his other hand curling into a fist at his side. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but he had almost expected better from Anderson. Almost. John could feel Sherlock vibrating with rage at his side. He knew he had to say something before Sherlock flew off the handle, but he was at a loss for words.

'Got nothing to say?' Anderson sneered. 'I though as much. I knew you two were poofs as soon as I saw you two together. When I said at the pink lady's crime scene that I didn't want it contaminated I didn't mean it in the traditional sense. I didn't want it contaminated by your homosexual filth.'

Anderson continued but John wasn't listening anymore. Sally had gotten up to leave but had squeezed his shoulder apologetically before disappearing. John's hands were clenched so tight his knuckles were white and his nails were digging into his palms. He stiffly turned to Sherlock who was looking at him, vibrating with rage, pleading with his eyes.

'Lay it on him, Sherlock,' John grit between clenched teeth. Sherlock grit his teeth and strolled across the room to loom over the smug man.

'Anderson, I understand you have a problem with me but if you dare bring John into this little feud between ourselves then you will regret it.' He wrinkled up his nose and pulled back his lips into a snarl. 'And don't just think that was an empty threat because it wasn't.'

He smacked his wrist on the desk Anderson was lounging against with immense force. 'If I ever hear those sorts of names again I swear I'll – I dread to think what I'll do!'

The fuming man steadied his voice. 'Now I suggest you get the files of the case victims, results from the gas, and fast access to the bodies,' Sherlock growled. 'Be quick about it.' He pointed to the door and watched as a shaken up Anderson slowly got to his feet and left without saying a word.

John watched as Anderson slunk away to retrieve everything Sherlock demanded. As soon as he disappeared from sight John pulled Sherlock into a fierce kiss. He stumbled backward until his legs hit the edge of the desk behind him and leaned against it to keep himself upright.

'I have never been more proud or more turned on in all my life,' John breathed against Sherlock's lips. 'God I want you so bad right now.'

Sherlock grinned, grabbing John's wrist and pulling him to the corner where they would be unseen. That way they were sure to have a little privacy. 'You are inclined to a little preview of what you're going to get.' He pulled John against him, kissing him and grinding his still very prominent erection into John. He moaned as he felt John grow a little.

'Blimey,' he mumbled against his lover's lips. John moaned and arched into Sherlock, pulling the taller man flush against him. His hands slid all over Sherlock's back, stopping when he reached the dip just above his arse and squeezed.

Sherlock pulled back. 'I thought we agreed. No squeezing around – that area.' He narrowed his eyes and smiled softly before moving his hand forward and groping John's erection with all his might. 'Two people can break rules.'

'Oh Jesus fucking Christ,' John swore, throwing his head back and swallowing down a rather obscene moan. He rocked his hips into Sherlock's hand, shaking at how wonderful it felt against his hot, aching prick. He laced his fingers with Sherlock's and rocked into their hands, staring into Sherlock's eyes to intensify the moment.

'Oh my, you like that, don't you?' Sherlock groped John with more force. 'Well there's plenty more of this to come, but only if you sustain your condition.'

'Like it? Sherlock, I bloody love it,' John gasped. He squeezed their hands on his prick and his hips bucked up at the sensation. 'Your long fingers were made for this.'

'My fingers were made for a satisfying amount of things,' he retorted seductively. He rubbed his thumb across the throbbing bulge. 'It's quite sweet that I affect you like this. I can't believe you've lasted for all this time.'

'Sometimes I have a surprising amount of self control,' John smirked. 'That, and being around Anderson kinda killed it for a while.'

Sherlock hummed. 'I can appreciate that. He's an annoying bastard.' He smothered John's lips with his and removed his hand, replacing it with his own aching groin. He began to use very subtle thrusts to drive John insane. John gasped into the kiss and hitched a leg around one of Sherlock's, giving him leverage and Sherlock better access to his groin. He thrust against Sherlock, their pricks sliding against each other's through the fabric of their clothes. John let out little mewls of pleasure as he neared his release.

'Oh fuck, Sherlock. I'm gonna... Gotta stop. Stop. Stop!' He shoved Sherlock back with surprising force and balanced himself against the wall as he tried to calm down. That was a close call. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, thinking of Anderson's ugly face in order to get his prick to die down. When he opened his eyes Sherlock was grinning at him but just behind him was Anderson. He had dropped the files Sherlock had demanded on the floor and was staring at the two of them with a look of pure horror and disgust on his face.

Sherlock growled beneath his breath, turning around. 'I'd think carefully about it if you're going to say something Anderson.'

The man in question said nothing. He just turned and walked rather briskly to the men's loo. John sighed in relief and sank to the floor, laughter on his lips. That quickly turned into fits of shaking and he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, closing his eyes to block out the precinct.

Sherlock chuckled. 'I think we scarred him for life. Are you ok?' He crouched down to John's level. 'I'm sorry I brought you so close and in front of Anderson.' Of course he was only sorry about the latter part.

'No. No, I'm not ok,' John sighed. 'What the hell are we doing, Sherlock?' He looked up at his lover, his beautiful, gorgeous lover, and sighed, dropping his head. 'We were both so scared when Lestrade popped by not a few hours ago and look at us. Parading around in our best clothes, trousers so god damn tight and erections so prominent people can see what religion we are. And then you've got your hair slicked back and your eyes lined and I just... It's a teasing game for us, but all I'm seeing are people passing notes to one another because of the bets on our relationship. And it sickens me and I... I'm not ready for all that. I'm not ready for people to know.' He buried his head in his hands and took in deep, shaky breaths.

Sherlock sighed and pulled John into a hug. 'May I just remind you I was quite literally trapped in my mind because I was so terrified?' He rocked his lover, lovingly nuzzling his neck. 'However, I have come to a revelation since then. I love you. You're mine. And my heart belongs to you. And as long as that is true nothing else matters.'

Sherlock kissed John lightly on the lips. 'So what if people are betting on our relationship? Isn't it a little sweet that they spend so much time thinking about us?' He smirked. 'Does it scare you because of what they think? Or is it simply because of who they think you're with?' Sherlock looked a little sad. 'Would you feel different if I were a woman ... Or simply if I were normal?'

John clutched tightly to Sherlock. 'It's not sweet that they think about us so often, it's fucking creepy. I've overheard some of their conversations about who tops or bottoms, who gives the best head, one was even about us supposedly becoming so aroused at a crime scene that we had to leave and fuck each other like rabbits.' John reached for one of Sherlock's hands and laced his fingers with his. 'I am not ashamed of being with you, Sherlock. I love you with all my heart and nothing will ever change that. I do not wish that you were a woman and I wouldn't trade you for the most boring, normal human in existence. I love you exactly the way you are, I love everything that you do, and I love you because you let me into your home and into your heart.' He caressed Sherlock's face with his free hand and moved it up so he could look into his bright eyes.

'I love you for you and I wouldn't change a thing about you,' he whispered before he brought him forward for a soft kiss. Sherlock ravaged John's lips for several minutes before having to pull back for air. He grinned.

'Ignore them. They think we're just fucking each other brainless.' His lips quirked. 'Which we most definitely are. But they don't understand that we truly love each other. Now, Mr John Hamish Watson, care to solve a case with me?'

'Why Mr Sherlock Holmes I do believe I would,' John grinned. He gave Sherlock a quick peck on the lips before a rather delicious idea popped into his head. He grinned maliciously at his lover as he crawled across the floor to the files Anderson had dropped, giving Sherlock full view of his arse in his best jeans, wriggling it for good measure.

'Tease,' Sherlock growled, reaching out his hand and spanking John, watching as he writhed from the contact. John's entire body stiffened at the slap and he grit his teeth in pain.

'Ok, from here on out the rules apply again,' he ground out.

'Oh, I see. You get to tease me but I don't get to get you back,' Sherlock pouted, caressing John's right bum cheek.

'No, you just don't get to slap my arse. It hurts and it's against the rules,' John hissed, batting Sherlock's hand away. 'Unless you want me to pinch your sore arse in return that is.'

Sherlock wriggled his eyebrows. 'That would only give me further cause to wreck that arse of yours more than I already have.'

John considered that a moment, cocking his head to the side as he organized the papers strewn about on the floor. 'So what you're saying is, the more I tease you the harder you'll fuck me after dinner?' he asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

Sherlock groaned. 'I should not have said that.' He shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. John smirked and handed the files over to Sherlock, making sure their fingers touched. He sat back on his heels and began fanning himself.

'It's rather warm in here, don't you think Sherlock?' He slowly unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, his hand lingering over the third before undoing that as well. Sherlock's eyes bulged as he tried to ignore the urge to rip John's clothes off right there on the spot.

'It certainly is,' he replied. His top two buttons were already undone but he started plucking at more buttons despite that fact.

'Now, now, Sherlock,' John tutted. 'It won't do for you to be arrested for indecent exposure today. You are in the center of Scotland Yard with hundreds of police officers abound. Quite a few of which would love to see you behind bars.' John hummed at the image. 'Now that I picture it, I would kind of like to see you behind bars. My hardened criminal, my bad boy.' John was practically vibrating and his hand dropped to the crotch of his trousers, his fingers skimming along his erection.

'Come now, love.' Sherlock snogged John and wrapped his hands around his erection. 'Surely this isn't helping.'

John moaned and thrust into Sherlock's hand, pulling him down until he was on his back with Sherlock looming over him. 'No, it isn't helping. But it feels fucking amazing.'

Sherlock groped John. 'Tell me to stop when it gets to be too much.'

John nodded and thrust up into Sherlock's hands, his back arching up off the floor. God he wanted Sherlock's cock so bad. He batted Sherlock's hands away and pulled him down by the waist, their groins coming into contact. John sighed and rocked his hips up in a steady rhythm, making sure Sherlock would be just as hot and bothered as he was.

Sherlock was trembling with anticipation. This moment was one of the rare moments that he let himself indulge in feeling human and it seemed only right that it was John who made him feel that way. He pushed himself as close as possible to John and felt in wonderment as his cock throbbed against the surface of his trousers. Said trousers were now stretched to their maximum with the V now tenting out. He started pounding himself against John, grunting and wheezing.

John braced his feet against the floor and met Sherlock thrust for thrust. He was lost in the moment, completely forgetting that they were humping each other on the floor in Scotland Yard. All he knew was that Sherlock was trying to fuck him through his trousers and it felt way too fucking good to care who spotted them. Sherlock's thrusts were becoming harder and harsher and John could tell he was close. Well that just wouldn't do. They had after dinner plans to look forward to. Mustering as much self control as he could he forced his body to stop moving and pushed Sherlock away by his shoulders.

'Too close,' he said in a ragged breath. 'And you are too.'

Sherlock groaned. It was true that he was on the very cusp of coming in his trousers. Somewhere in his mind told him that perhaps what they were doing was wrong in such a public place. But that part was drowned out by the part that wanted to fuck the living day lights out of John.

'Yes I am,' he exhaled deeply, brushing a finger over his groin.

'Which is why we should hurry up and solve this case.' He pushed himself up and grabbed hold of John, pulling him up. He moved behind the desk and sat down. Patting his knee he said, 'Come sit down on my lap Jonathan.'

John's cock lurched when Sherlock used his full name. It did when he said 'John' as well, but 'Jonathan' just felt more intimate and personal. He sat down in Sherlock's lap without a second thought, his right arm draping over Sherlock's shoulders to keep himself balanced but also so he could rub soothing circles on the back of Sherlock's neck.

'Yes, Sherlock,' he whispered huskily into the detective's ear. 'Hurry and solve this case so you can take me home and fuck me with no mercy.'

Sherlock ignored the way his cock throbbed beneath John's arse, picking up the files. His mind went into overdrive and suddenly he'd come to a shocking discovery:

All of the victims were short, stocky blond men... Much like John.

His heart pounded in his chest. This had Moriarty written all over it.

John was perusing through the witness statements when he felt Sherlock's body stiffen.

'Find something?' he asked, peering to look at the photographs of the victims.

'John, I need to make a quick phone call. Can you get off of me for one moment? And perhaps leave the room. Don't ask questions. Just trust me.' Sherlock's jaw was taught and his whole body was tense.

Shit. It was pretty serious then. John nodded and stood up, grabbing onto Sherlock's arm before he could sprint away.

'I just want you to know, that no matter what happens, I love you and I trust you with my life.'

Sherlock sighed and nodded as he watched John retreat. That was what he was rather afraid of. Plucking his phone from his pocket he dialed in the number to the only person he knew could help him. Much to his discomfort said person was his brother.

John left the room and went to sit on one of the benches randomly dispersed throughout the Yard. He felt like a little kid, banished from the room so the adults could talk alone. He sighed and ran the toe of his shoe along the carpet. What had gotten Sherlock so worked up? It must have involved him, he wouldn't have reacted so drastically if it hadn't. A cup of coffee materialized in front of him and he looked up to see Sergeant Sally Donovan standing there.

'Oh. Hi Sally. Thanks,' he said, accepting the cup and letting it warm his hands. Sally nodded curtly and turned to leave but she stopped. She sighed and strode back to John on the bench, sitting down next to him.

'I feel like I should apologize for Anderson's behavior,' she explained.

'Oh, no, that's fine,' John stammered quickly. 'You don't have to do that. Sherlock already threatened him and I'm pretty sure we scarred him for life earlier too. Don't ask,' he added quickly.

'I'm still sorry he said those things to you two,' she said. 'In all the time I've known him he never seemed like the, the...'

'Homophobic type?'

'Yeah.'

'Well, I never saw myself as bisexual until I moved in with Sherlock. And even at that I don't think I'm completely bisexual.'

'How do you mean?'

'I mean, Sherlock is the only man I've ever been attracted to. In my entire life, even throughout the college experimentation years, Sherlock is the only man I have ever been attracted to and the only man I have ever wanted to be in a relationship with. Only him.'

'That actually sounds really sweet when you put it like that,' Sally smiled.

'He may not look it, but he's actually quite the sentimental fool,' John grinned. 'Oh god, don't tell him I told you that. He has got a reputation to maintain after all.'

'Yeah. Freak's gotta be respected somehow.'

'Don't use that word,' John nearly growled, glaring at her.

'What word? Freak?'

'Yes, that word Sally. I don't like it, I never have, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop using it. It's a simple word but it holds a lot of power. So please, stop.'

Sally actually had the decency to look morose and she nodded apologizing. 'I have to get back to work. Good luck on the case by the way. We, well, I really appreciate you two taking the time to help. It's a strange one.'

'Tell me about it. Sherlock is in full on case mode. One look at the photos of the victims and he's already spouting theories.'

'There was something off about those people,' Sally mused. 'Tan, blonde, well-built. They sort of reminded me of you.' She shrugged and stood up to leave, squeezing John's shoulder as she left. John didn't feel it though. He didn't see Sally leave, didn't hear the noise of the Yard, didn't smell the cheap coffee in the cheap cup in his hands. All he could think about were Sally's words: 'They sort of reminded me of you.' That must have been what made Sherlock so tense and protective. He suspected someone was after John, and he had a hunch he knew who.

This was more than a bit not good.

Oh shit. Our boys are in trouble. What will they do and how will they cope? Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion! Sorry, I couldn't help myself. But we'll see you all next week, with some more angst and sexy times ;)

TSA + IB