No one has ever accused Sherlock of being conventional. And that extends to all his needs.
Blood pumping, out of breath, adrenaline high, Sherlock pulls John into an alley and immediately crashes their mouths together. "Sh-Sherlock!" laughs John into the kisses. "I know we just finished a case and you're excited an all, but can't we at least get back to the bloody flat?"
"Later." is the only reply given before kisses spread down his neck. John moans and leans back against the wall. It's not as if there's really anything to be done when Sherlock is this insistent.
He groans when his nipples are rubbed through his jumper and his hips buck against the taller man's. Surprisingly enough, Sherlock reciprocates, grinding their crotches together and drawing moans out of both of them. John lets his legs be kicked apart just enough for a knee to be placed between them and rub circles against his quickly hardening member.
God, they're doing this all in an alleyway, for Christ's sake.
"Sherlock," he moans before biting the back of his hand in an attempt to quiet himself against the pleasure. Sherlock isn't even in his pants and John's already losing his mind. Dear Lord, this man drives him mad in all the best ways.
"Still want to head back to the flat?" hums Sherlock against his ear, hot breath sending shivers down his spine.
"If you stop, I will personally murder you myself, Sherlock Holmes."
The detective laughs at the reply and grinds further into his boyfriend. "As you wish,"