Interruptions (John/Sherlock)

John was far too quiet for Sherlock's liking. So John was really going to hold back his moans, huh? So this was really a playful competition? All right, then Sherlock would act like so.

Sherlock did something he knew John absolutely loved: dip his tongue into John's bellybutton. He felt John writhing under him, hissing and gasping. He did the same, but differently, twisting his tongue. John arched up to him, longing for more, but Sherlock pinned him down again.

"Having a rough time?" Sherlock came up to John's face again and kissed John again. John was trembling and bucking up under him and it was so good to feel he had this power over John. The power to make him feel good, aroused.

Sherlock teased the skin just above John's waistband. Then, he stroked his hands up John's inner thighs over John's jeans. Just before he reached John's groin, he stroked down again, smirking. The frustration that was readable on John's kissable face, aroused Sherlock immensely.

"Holding back until you will burst?" Sherlock deliberately avoided John's bulge and grinned maliciously against John's lips.

He actually loved John being not so submissive as now. Yes, he loved the gentle touch of his hands on his back, but he loved John's spontaneous reactions, so he could repress them and thus induce a heavier response.

Sherlock opened John's button and zipper and pushed his trousers down with a little help from John. When Sherlock moved his face down, he let his chest brush over John's groin without giving friction. Then, he pressed kisses up John's inner thighs, following the lines his hands just had made.

One more look up to John and Sherlock gave all his attention to mouthing John through his pants. First he just blew it, before closing his mouth over it. He licked and kissed through the fabric, which Sherlock imagined would be maddening regarding the friction between John's cock and his pants.

Sherlock reached out with his hand searching for John's hand. They linked again, fingers entwined. Without, Sherlock didn't want to do this.

((I just had a bad day so please don't mind the lack of emotional investment :|))

((Aww, it's fine! Still very sexy. Hope things get better!))

John at this point was whispering out a steady stream of curse words. This was harder than he had thought it would be, Sherlock was playing him like a violin, balancing out just the right amount of touching and lack of contact.

This had been going so slow, strokes and touches all being purposely drawn out, with well timed, breath-stealing kisses in between. Now, Sherlock was mouthing him through his pants, and John was so close to pulling the damn things down himself. Sherlock had been so careful in avoiding any real touches to his groin, John was aching for real contact. He felt like hot prickles were shooting from his stomach down his thighs. He couldn't help bucking up into Sherlock's mouth a bit. He could tell his face was flushed, and he felt sweat trailing down his back.

Finally, when Sherlock took his hand, John snapped. He abruptly sat up, using both hands to grab Sherlock's shoulders and push him up as well. He practically ripped off Sherlock's shirt and trousers, then knelt on his knees facing Sherlock, panting. He roughly grabs Sherlock's head and tugs it forward into a fierce kiss.

When he spoke, however, his voice was still low and controlled (though the control seemed to be in an extremely fragile state), "My pants are coming off. Now. Either you take them off or I will."

Sherlock gasped as John yanked him up to meet him in a breathtaking kiss. God, that kiss did things to his groin so rapidly, his groin twitched. A moment later, his shirt and trousers disappeared and he was met with John's bare chest.

God, that was sexy. Sherlock's eyes darkened at John's order. Subconsciously, Sherlock had been holding back his own arousal too. He had felt like bursting himself, but John's fierce kiss broke the dam.

"Yes captain." With one swift movement, Sherlock yanked John's pants down. He felt John's hands doing the same on him.

The teasing was over. Sherlock drove John down on the bed again while kissing him fervently. He grinded down on John while John bucked his hips up. They both moaned.

This time, Sherlock had dragged it out too long. He was trembling too and momentarily at a loss what to do with his body. He hadn't yet trembled this much before. John noticed this and apparently had enough with Sherlock's pauses that he took the initiative and turned them around.

((Hmmm yeah, bit better :\ thanks :)))

((Glad to hear it!))

John quickly wrapped his hands around both cocks and began tugging, while kissing Sherlock. Sherlock eventually regained a bit of his focus and put his hand next to John's to help.

At the same time he wrapped his legs around John, pulling him closer. With a final twist of his wrist, John felt his orgasm hit.

"OH!!!"

John screamed out, unable to form real words. His whole body went rigid as the hot waves shook through him. His eyes squeezed shut, and then flew wide open. His voice broke in a harsh gasp at the end.

He looked down at Sherlock, who looked painfully hard, but seemed have purposely held off his own orgasm to watch John. The expression on his face was completely enraptured. John leaned forward, gave Sherlock's cock a few more tugs, and bit down on his shoulder.

Sherlock came with his own loud cry, eyes watering and dripping over onto John's cheek. They both collapsed down onto the bed, breathing heavily, unable to speak. John eventually forcing himself to get up and get a wet flannel to clean up, before laying back down again. He pressed a few gentle kisses to Sherlock's shoulder.

"Wow...that was something. Not sure I'll be able to do that on a regular basis, knocked me out a fair bit...but it was fantastic. Damn that was intense. I still feel like I have electricity going through me."

John gives a huge yawn and nuzzles up against Sherlock.

"Th-this is ridiculous, it's barely past 7 and I'm falling asleep. You, Mr. Holmes, have pleasured me to the point of exhaustion. You're amazing. Now sleep here with me for a bit while I regain my energy."

John leans up to press a kiss to Sherlock's jaw.

"Love you."

Wow. He hadn't estimated thát to happen. His orgasm came with such force he had literally cried out. And John's face while coming, wow. The expression of love and arousal and everything that was important was written on his face. He didn't want to forget that ever.

"I couldn't word it better." Sherlock panted heavily. His shoulder hurt, but it was the good kind of hurt. Sherlock closed his eyes and enjoyed the after waves of his orgasm. Then, John climbed back in bed. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and held him close.

A thought stroke him and he smirked impeccably.

"Captain Watson, you have to admit that I made you scream." Sherlock kissed John's forehead.

Sherlock felt a little sleepy himself. The fantastic emotional sex of the morning, the anger of the journalist's visit and this was just exhausting.

"Love you too." Sherlock whispered back, shut his eyes and fell asleep.

((Short today, I am a bit too excited about something else. I don't know if you're on tumblr...? Well, someone made art about a Sherlock coffee shop au and someone else screamed for a ficlet, so then I wrote something and BOOM + 8 followers and 33 persons on my blog at once... so yeah, bit stunned by that))
((I totally forgot what was going to happen next, sorry :P))

((Oh cool, that's awesome!!!))
((Next we were going to move into a case that took them out of London and started up the a plot with Moriarty involved to lead into Reichenbach. So we need to work on getting a Moriarty soon. I can put up an ad if you want.))
((In the meantime, we were going to have Mycroft bring in the case- which could work because we could have him just tell Sherlock to leave London without giving details. We had thoughts of Mycroft being awkward and contacting Sherlock about the case at some point where he acts as a total cockblock. I also have a total random idea that can be stuck in literally anywhere, I just need a setting where John is alone in the flat for a bit, and then Sherlock comes home unexpectedly. So I can always put that in at some point too. That idea is essentially a very short one-shot.))

After going to bed so early, John wakes up at 5:30 totally rested. Sherlock is still fast asleep, making John laugh- seems that sharing a bed and using sex to wear him out has become a great way to get Sherlock to sleep regularly. John checks his phone, text from Sara asking if he can take a 7 a.m. sub shift at the clinic- bonus pay because it was last minute. John texts back saying yes.

He showers, dresses, and has breakfast, but Sherlock still hasn't woken up. He writes a quick note.

Lock- Picked up extra work shift, had to leave while you were still asleep. Did you know you look gorgeous when you sleep? Well, you always look gorgeous, at least to me. Anyways, I'll be back around 7 p.m. Saw that you had a text from GL asking you to stop by the Yard sometime today. Also, you owe me tea from that experiment two weeks ago. You are buying it yourself. Earl Grey, loose leaf, the box is blue with gold lettering. Aisle 6 at Tesco's.

Love you,
John

P.S. I still kissed you goodbye, so no yelling at me.

John put the note on top of Sherlock's phone, kissed Sherlock, then left for work.

((Ok so if I interpreted this right: you want Sherlock out of the flat? Ok, I can do that.))

Sherlock woke up around half past 8 in the morning. His sleep had been excellent, he had slept like a stone after that amazing orgasm he had had the day before. The bed felt cold compared to the normal body heat they shared below the covers. He didn't hear the usual rattling of dishes, the brewing of tea or the hum of John's voice. John was away. Sherlock felt his heart sink.

One deep sigh later, Sherlock rose from the bed, showered, dressed himself and made his way to the living room. He felt terribly alone and wondered why John had left him alone. He could imagine numerous reasons: grocery shopping, emergency in the hospital, abducted by Mycroft... Let's deduce it.

Sherlock walked into the living room, looking for proof. It had no use because the first thing that he saw was the note John had left for him.

Sherlock found himself smiling at John's PS. Sherlock always got playfully cross when John didn't kiss him goodbye. Absent-mindedly, he stroked his fingertips over his lips as if he could feel the kiss.

All right. So the day would be like this: Go to Scotland Yard, talk with Lestrade, if it is not interesting: going to bart's for an experiment, if it is: case. Then, afterwards, going to Tesco's, maybe even the 24h one, get home and then John. All right.

Without eating breakfast, he grabbed his coat, left the flat and hailed a cab to Scotland Yard.

---

7 pm, same day.

---

With the Earl Grey in a plastic bag hanging on Sherlock's arm, he entered 221B and climbed the stairs. The case had been thrilling, yet a bit simple. An 8, estimately. Of couse, Sherlock had solved it, though it was a nice piece of brainwork. He had loved the feeling of a problem again, after two weeks no case. Lestrade had congratulated him on their engagement. Sherlock had asked how he knew. Lestrade had given him an amused, 'obvious' look, stating he saw it by his ring. Sherlock thanked him and was very relieved that the news hadn't leaked yet.

But now, he was home again. Home with John. Hopefully. John had said he would be back at 7, but 'you never know'.

"John? I'm home! I missed you and I can't wait to have you on the sofa. I will ravish you, I promise."

((Maybe Mycroft sits on the couch?))

((Yay! Mycroft can come in a bit later, but I have to have my spot of fun first. I'm going to tease Sherlock- just a bit, because I can. :) ))

John had gotten home earlier than expected. His day had been full of people sick with the flu, and Sara had let him out a half-hour early when a young girl vomited on him. He very gratefully came home and showered, sticking his clothes directly into the wash.

He took a slightly longer shower than normal, the hot water helping him calm down after a stressful day. When he looked at the clock in the bedroom after getting out, it was 6:40. Hopefully Sherlock would be home soon.

John smiled and started thinking about last night. He had missed Sherlock. There had been no texts from him today, and John had found himself thinking about his fiance whenever he had a minute or two between patients. He was glad Sherlock wasn't here when he first came home- smelling disgusting and in a rather bad mood, but now he that he was clean and relaxed, he wanted Sherlock be here.

John imagined Sherlock walking in right now, not bothering to knock on the door, because he never did. Coming in without expecting to find John in a towel, pausing for a moment to reassess his plans for the evening, then John's favorite smirk tugging up the corner of his lips. How would it feel different to have Sherlock's skin against his when he was wet but Sherlock was dry? Would Sherlock's fingers be able to twist into his hair differently when it was still damp?

John looked down and suddenly realized his fantasizing had made him hard. Well that's a bit awkward. Haven't done that to myself by accident for years. Shit, I have no idea when Sherlock is coming home...but this will be uncomfortable to try and ignore.

John drops his towel, and lays back on the bed to have a quick wank before making dinner. He decides to go with his little fantasy of Sherlock finding him in the towel- possibly he had gone out to the kitchen just wrapped in the towel to pop in dinner, and Sherlock had come in without John realized. He was just standing there unaware, to suddenly have Sherlock pull the towel off him from behind. Sherlock would stand behind him, pressed up against his back, kissing down his neck and shoulders, stroking at his chest, refusing to allow him to turn around, his low voice directly next to John's ear. John would be able to feel the rumble of Sherlock's moans against his back.

John lets out a moan himself as he starts pumping. He is so caught up in his fantasy that he doesn't hear Sherlock come in the flat and call to him.

((*evil laughing on my part* So Sherlock, how will you deal with coming home to hear John moaning without you there?))

((ohoho you ARE evil. So sad I can't reply now, mum is taking my phone and computer away again u.u oooooh this is fun))

((Oh no! Well, I eagerly await your return and am glad you are amused))

Once arrived at the top of the stairs, Sherlock heard something coming from the bedroom. It was unmistakeably John and he was unmistakeably panting. No, moaning. And though Sherlock loved that sound... this was extremely wrong. His mind made connections at top speed and Sherlock's heart sank like a stone. Of course the obvious question raised.

Was John sleeping with someone else, meaning: cheating on him?

Sherlock's mind was cut with a sting of anger and panic at the thought. He dropped the plastic bag with the tea on the ground.

No, no, no! This couldn't be true. Sherlock, don't let your emotions guide you. You have not enough data, not enough data! Sherlock yelled in his head to himself, so he turned around the corner of the hallway. The door of their bathroom was on his left now and a few feet away, the bedroom door stood ajar. The closer Sherlock got, the more louder the moans got and the more he could see through the door.

And God, what he saw there. John, naked, lying on the bed and wanking. It relieved his heart and went straight to his groin. It was surprisingly hot to see, to watch John without he knew Sherlock was watching him.

With the next moan, Sherlock had to bite his lip. Oh God, this was randy. Sherlock felt an instant boner staining in his pants. Sherlock leaned against the bathroom door with his left underarm and palmed himself over his trousers. John and he whimpered simultaneously.

Sherlock couldn't tear his eyes off John; off John's practised hand pumping himself, shifting the foreskin to and fro John's gleaming tip; off John's other hand that clasped the sheets like a lifeboat; off John's eyes that were closed, his bitten lip and his pleasured expression. It was all almost too hot to handle.

((You can decide whether John sees/hears him ))

John's eyes are closed, his head arching back on the bed. John can feel himself getting close to orgasm, and he whimpers. In his head, he hears Sherlock whimper as well, the sound surprisingly realistic.

John bites down on his lip and grips the sheets. Sherlock is teasing him in his head, pumping him steadily, but not quite fast enough, playing with his tip. He mirrors this with his own hand, trying to imitate the way Sherlock strokes him, different from how he normally
does himself.

"Lock, Lock...please, more, I can't...I need more..." John begs in a breathy voice.

Eyes still closed, John lifts his hand off the bed to a fading lovebite on his shoulder. He scratches and pinches at it, making the skin turn red again.

Sherlock could tell John was approaching his orgasm. He knew the signs: slight tremble, arching up even higher, squeezing his eyes shut more tight, heavier breathing, louder and more moans and oh-. His penis, swelling and leaking with precum.

Sherlock couldn't hold back anymore. The moans, the sight and moreover the fact John called him Lock in such a begging voice... it was too searing to ignore. Sherlock groaned and stepped with his long legs in two steps to the bed. His hand hastily grasped John's and helped him pumping. He took over the task John's fingers were doing on John's shoulder and licked his lovebite.

John's eyes flew open when he felt Sherlock over him.

"You're home?"

Just then Sherlock gave a flick at the wrist, and scraped his teeth lightly over the mark on John's shoulder.

"Oooh!"

John groaned and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's shoulder. He reached up and tugged Sherlock's hair to bring their lips together. For a few moments it was nearly silent as John kissed Sherlock deeply and let the hot coils build up in his gut.

Then he was crying out and coming over their joined hands.

As soon as his head cleared, he pushed Sherlock over onto his back and tugged down his trousers and pants. He started pumped Sherlock and kissing along his hips and thighs.

"How long have you been home? Did you watch me? Did that make you hard? Did you like seeing me touching myself thinking of you? I showered after coming back from work, and ended up imagining you coming home to find me standing in the kitchen in just a towel. My mind ran away from me with the fantasy and what you would do to me."

"I'm glad you made it home, that made things better. Now..."

John sped up his hand motions and gripped a bit tighter. He kept up the movement until he could feel that Sherlock was right on the edge. He kissed him passionately, and then pulled back so his lips were hovering right over Sherlock's.

"...come for me love."

John's kiss was breathtaking. John came crying out the sexiest noises Sherlock could imagine. It all added to his arousal, aching painfully in his pants. Sherlock was still drinking in the delicious sight of John coming under him, when he was turned around.

With a swift movement, John pulled his pants and trousers down. Sherlock gasped, his erection was finally free to breathe. The previous sight of John, wanking off a fantasy of Sherlock, had made him rock hard. Sherlock hissed when John began to pump him.

And oh, his words. His sinful, dirty words built his arousal up. Sherlock couldn't answer the questions. He could only moan consonants like 'hnnnnggggg' interspersed with shuddery breaths. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's shoulders and grasped at his skin when he came up to kiss him.

Speed, lips, tongues, breath.

Anything, anything John did would do. Sherlock was so horny. He had not been this randy and horny before, he thought. He loved having sex, but seeing John wank was some level of dirtiness that turned him on.

Then John said something so sweet and hot that pushed him right over the edge. Sherlock bucked his hips up, arching into John's hand and came with a loud "Aaaarrgh!".

He recaptured John's lips again, but couldn't kiss properly because another wave hit him, causing him to moan loudly against John's lips.

Sherlock let his head fall back onto the pillows and breathed heavily while riding his orgasm out. Once he calmed down a bit, he dared a look down. His shirt and trousers were soaked and soiled. He then looked up at John, who wore a blissful expression. Sherlock smiled back and snogged him happily.

John watches, completely spellbound by the sight of Sherlock riding out his orgasm. He's actually glad Sherlock gave up on trying to kiss him, because he wants to be able to watch. He is amazed when multiple waves hit Sherlock, making him shudder and arch violently, his loud moan eventually just becoming a choked gasp.

John stays leaning over Sherlock and staring down at him until he opens his eyes again. He happily kisses Sherlock back, winding his arms around him and holding him close.

"Mmm," John presses kisses to Sherlock's jaw, talking in between them, "You. Are. So. Sexy. And. Wonderful. I. Love. You. And. Missed. You. Today."

After a few moments of snogging, John suddenly becomes aware of an unpleasant feeling against his stomach. He pulls back from Sherlock.

"Um, Sherlock we may need to change your shirt. I mean, as much as I love you wet and covered in the results of our sex, it's not really pleasant to lean against while kissing you. I can't imagine you're comfortable either. Can I strip you and clean us both up a bit so we can continue with the whole kissing thing?"

Sherlock chuckled darkly. "As I said before: I missed you too. I'm not sure if you heard it. You were quite wound up in your fantasy."

Sherlock was already making plans in making John's fantasy come true. He would certainly seize the opportunity the next Joh showered andSherlock was clothed.

"By all means." Sherlocl spread his arms wide out over the bed, like a Jesus-stature. "Strip me and clean me, do whatever you want with me, but only if you come back to kiss me."

And so John straddled Sherlock's lap while stripping Sherlock from his soiled shirt. John's hamds felt warm against Sherlocks heaving chest. It wasn't arousing, just pleasant. Sherlock observed how a drop of cum was sliding down John's abdomen. Whose cum was it? They had come on the same place, so was it a mix? How would it-...?

Sherlock scooped the drop from John's belly and brought it to his mouth. And i.deed, it didn't taste like Johm's cum only. Though he didn't like the taste of cum, he knew how John's tasted by now. No, there was definity Sherlock's cum blended in. Interesting.

((gooore ».« but yeah, sherlock hits corpses with a riding crop so this isn't that bad))

((Yeah, slightly gross, but then again it's not like he hasn't had John's cum in his mouth before, and he is sort of a mad scientist, so it makes sense))

John watches Sherlock lick the cum off his finger. He can't decide if he finds it gross, or just Sherlock being himself. When he sees the 'scientist' look on Sherlock's face he decides it's the latter.

He considers making a quip about knowing better ways for Sherlock to taste cum, but decides Sherlock probably wouldn't appreciate the humor. John takes Sherlock's clothes to the washer, wets a flannel, wipes himself off as he walks back to the bedroom, and then climbs back into bed. He carefully wipes Sherlock off, cleaning his stomach, legs, and groin. He follows the flannel with his lips, kissing gently, not wanting to get Sherlock aroused again but just to show his love.

Once he's done, he drops the flannel onto the floor and lays back on top of Sherlock, curling his arms under Sherlock's head, and wrapping their legs together. He pecks butterfly kisses along Sherlock's cheeks.

"So, how was your day? Did you get my note this morning? Any cases?"

((So maybe have them get up, not really get fully dressed, and eat dinner. Then cuddle on the couch and start snogging more. Possibly have Mycroft come in right when things are moving past snogging to foreplay? Have him just walk right in without knocking because he's Mycroft?))

"Yes, I did see your note." Sherlock smiled at the reminder of that. He would never admit it, but he thought it was lovely sentimentally sweet. "Case was an 8, needed to run an experiment, went to Bart's, ran experiment, got back with the results, case closed. Seemed simple, but was good brainwork after all."

John kept kissing him on his cheeks and in turn, Sherlock stroked John's hair. Sherlock giggled lowly. This felt quite wonderful.

"And you? How was your day? Sorry for not texting you. The experiment needed constant attention."

Sherlock played with John's hair as he answered, and snogged him when John was finished. Then John was reminded of something.

"Did you have breakfast today?"

Sherlock glanced nonchalantly at the ceiling. He couldn't fool John so he'd play along.

"Then, you are having dinner now."

Sherlock groaned. He didn't want to get up. But also that, John saw through. Sherlock suddenly was tackled in a tickle-attack, which caused him rolling and giggling over the bed.

"See? Now, get up and changed. Dinner's ready in half an hour."

Sherlock grunted in a reply. Eventually, he got up and put a pair of pants, pyjama pants and a grey shirt. Then, he went to the living room, picked up his violin and started playing.

That began to become a 'thing' of them. John would cook, Sherlock would play the violin. Very domestic, but Sherlock liked it.

They had dinner, (yes, also Sherlock), John did the dishes and Sherlock played the violin again. After a while, Sherlock felt a pair of hands curling around his waist from behind. So John was done with the dishes, right? Ok.

Sherlock lowered the violin, dropped it on the coffee-table and took John down with him on the sofa. They cuddled for a while, feeling each other, being close. Then, Sherlock started to kiss John on his cheek, ending up in a snog.

John was a magnificent kisser. Sherlock had improved his skill, but he had to acknowledge he would never be as good as John. John often left Sherlock breathless and panting. So he did this time.

Sherlock was becoming aroused and so did John. John gently pushed Sherlock down onto the cushions. He felt John's hands on his chest and returned the favour by pulling John's shirt up and trailing a line over John's bare vertebra, evident because he leaned down.

Then, he heard something.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Mycroft walking into the room. Sherlock grinned in his mind and closed his eyes again. John would probably moan at him later for this, but he couldn't miss such a chance to irritate his brother.

Sherlock trailed his hand down to John's bum and simultaneously lifting his knee, that rubbed against John. He kissed John with more fervour, opened his mouth wider and made the action of tongues clear.

Mycroft cleared his throat.

((Aww, they're SO CUTE!!!))

The rest of the evening passed by with warm, easy, domestic events that seemed to fill John with a glowing sense of contentment. Homemade dinner, the sound of Sherlock's violin filling the flat, curling up together on the couch. This was very much how John wanted to spend the rest of his life. The cases and danger gave him the excitement he needed, but it was this other side of his life at Baker Street that made the flat 'home' for him.

These happy, warm thoughts were going through John's mind as the innocent chaste kisses with Sherlock on the couch started to turn into something more intimate. Their mood had changed since earlier- their actions slow, sweet, just enjoying being with one another, not necessarily trying to initiate sex. If they became aroused, which was likely given the fact that Sherlock's kisses were practically a drug for John, they were not at all opposed to having sex (obviously), but that was not the goal.

After a bit, John gently pushed Sherlock down into the couch cushions and began lightly tracing out his chest through his t-shirt. Sherlock pulled his shirt off and John slipped his hand under Sherlock's. John feels Sherlock's knee rubbing against his crotch and moans, moving his hand down to cup and rub Sherlock.

Then- John hears a cough and freezes. He turns and sees Mycroft standing in the doorway, his eyes pointedly fixed on the yellow smiley face painted on the wall above them. John jumps up off Sherlock like he's on fire.

"Mycroft! What the bloody hell?! Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" John stammers out, very annoyed and uncomfortable.

He quickly locates his shirt and pulls it on. He's still hard, and he grabs a pillow to put on his lap. He doesn't want Mycroft to see that, but given that the man came in on them snogging, John decided to not bother with subtly.

"I can assure you, Dr. Watson, that if I had known you and Sherlock were...enjoying each others' company like this, I would have knocked. As overjoyed as I am about your engagement, I really desired to see my baby brother in such a state."

Mycroft blank expression falls for a moment into a grimace. John doesn't bother to ask how the man knew they were engaged.

"Speaking of which, I would recommend you put up a notice about the engagement on that little blog of yours, before a reporter with more backbone than Ms. Richardson sees you. Not all of them will be frightened into respecting your demands for privacy."

"Well, thank you for your advice," John says sarcastically, "but please put yourself out of your misery and stop trying to make small talk. Just get to the point of why you came, I know it's not just a social call."

Mycroft clicks his tongue.

"I'm disappointed, Dr. Watson, I was rather hoping you would become the peacekeeper in the family. Nonetheless, you are correct, I am not merely hear for pleasure. I have a case for you, Sherlock, in Canford Magna. The Baron de Mauley lives there and came to me requesting assistance with a situation he's having. He can give you the details when you arrive."

((Ok, real place. If you want info on it, I looked at these two sites:
[Only admins are allowed to see this link]

Seems tiny enough that Sherlock would not want to go, but it does have an important enough peerage family living there that I can imagine Mycroft agreeing to give Sherlock the case.))

Shit. Sherlock hadn't meant to become hard and moan himself, but John's hand that rubbed him couldn't prevent the groan from coming out of his mouth. Being on the bottom in sight of his brother was as humiliating as it was.

Sherlock stayed in his position, only rolling with his eyes in response. It was not like Mycroft had seen him in more humiliating situations, so making out with your fiancé (which is perfectly normal for fiancés after all) wasn't the oddest thing Mycroft had caught Sherlock on.

The boner on the other hand... not so good.

On the other hand: it was the proof of something Mycroft hadn't achieved in life, so Sherlock let it be and ignored it like it was not in the room.

Sherlock smiled and chuckled at John's prickly reaction. So Sherlock had had an influence on John. Nice.

"Where?" Sherlock sighed and retrieved his phone from the charger where he had left it before dinner. He googled Canford Magna. It was seriously the most dull place he could imagine.

"How is it possible to get murdered there? The people were only middle aged posh golfers, probably. I do not want to go all over there to discover someone murdered an eagle with a golf club. I have better things to do."

Sherlock gave a not so subtle look at John, who was hiding his hardness under a pillow. Sherlock's own had died out a little of the talking about boring stuff.

"I assured Baron de Mauley has very confidential and doesn't want to share it using any form of communication other than telling you in person."

Sherlock waved with his hand and draped the other arm dramatically over his head.

"Then he should visit me here!"

"Sherlock, don't be such a child. I have heard you haven't had cases for weeks now."

Sherlock thought he could spit fire at his brother. He hated it when he used this kind of persuation.

"Fine. But only if John can come too."

Sherlock left the pun open for interpretation, hoping either men would notice it.

((aaah ok. Geeez what a small town. Whoa, wait! I've been there xD Well no. Very, very near it tho))

((Yeah, very tiny. That's cool you've been close though! Maybe I'll have to go visit sometime now that I've forced Sherlock there))

John blushes, picking up on the pun. Mycroft keeps his face carefully blank.

"I figured that if you came he would as well, it seems to be the set arrangement."

John blinks, brain trying to process what he just heard. Mycroft Holmes knew how to make sexual innuendos? Was Mycroft not as cold and inhuman as John had always thought? Did Mycroft actually do sex?

John was then scarred by accidentally calling up mental images of Mycroft naked and aroused on a bed. NO, NO, NO!!!! ABORT!!! ABORT!!! MENTALLY DAMAGING!!! GET THAT IMAGE OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!

Mycroft saw the micro-expressions flickering across Dr. Watson's face throughout all this, while Sherlock was using his phone to look up information on Canford Magna and Baron de Mauley. Mycroft smirks, unable to resist calling out his soon-to-be brother-in-law.

"Dr. Watson, please stop imagining me in inappropriately sexual situations. Considering that you are engaged to my brother, I do not believe it is an acceptable thing for you to be thinking of, and I'd expect not something Sherlock would approve. He'll obviously blame me for any effects your active imagination brings you, and I don't have the patience to deal with his complaints."

The elder Holmes effectively killed John's boner.

"Also, to answer your unspoken question- I experimented with sex at a young age and found the process tedious and not worth the reward, so no need to worry, your original assumptions about me were correct."

That turned John off even further.

"Good day," Mycroft says politely, turning and leaving the flat.

John groans and buries thunks his head against the back of the couch.

"No, no, no! I never wanted to ever even consider your brother...ugh!!! That is so disturbing!!! Those things should never go together!!! He's too creepy."

John set to work trying to banish all thoughts of Mycroft from his mind.

((Poor John. Also poor Sherlock, I hope I haven't scarred him for life))

((excuse me for eventual typos. I'm writing this on my phone))

Sherlock did not look up nor did he look surprised at Mycroft's confession.

"Tedious you say? You sounded very differently when I caught you with Steffi. Or was it Steve? I cannot tell."

Sherlock remembered it like it was yesterday. He had been ten years old and Mycroft 22.
At a christmas dinner, Mycroft had brought one of his 'uni mates' with him to the family estate. Sherlock had sat next to steve and when he had dropped one of his useful spoons, he had seen their feet rubbing the other. And when they, at desert, had excused themselves for a lousy reason Sherlock couldn't rmember, Sherlock had done the same. Being the 10-year-old had had advantages. So Sherlock had followed them until he couldn't see them. They had disappeared from the hallway. But soon enough Sherlock had heard some low moaning and gigglimg coming from the stock room. Young Shwrlock who was just discoverimg sexuality, had opened the unclosed door and caught Mycroft on groping Steve in his pants. Now that was a traumatic experience, but perfect for little occasions like these, when Sherlok was the superior.

Mycroft moved his weight from his left leg to the right and Sherlock thought a tiiiny little blush appeared on his face.

"Good night." Mycroft decided that was a goal for Sherlock or just didn't want to talk about it and left the flat.

Sherlock grinned while putting down his phone. But that grin faded when he saw John's hhorrified expression.

"He's my brother. What did you expect?"

John still looked mortified. Sherlock scooped closer andentwined Johm's fingers wirh his own. Then, he leaned closer, his lips hovering in front of John's ear.

"Shall I kiss the imagination away?"

John wrinkles his nose for a moment.

"I definitely want to kiss you, but I'd rather not be thinking of your brother while I do it. Give me a second to banish the thoughts, then you can kiss me to keep them from coming back."

John closes his eyes for a moment, and then very firmly forces himself to think of Sherlock- Sherlock sleeping this morning, his face when they were cuddling in bed earlier this evening, the sound of his violin, the feeling of wrapping arms and legs around him on the couch. Then an image comes into John's mind that is not a memory. He imagines Sherlock standing at the front of a church, wearing a very well-cut suit, waiting for him as he walks forward. The smile on Sherlock's face is small, because of the other people in the church, but the love, pride, and happiness he felt was shining clearly in his eyes. In his mind, John is now next to Sherlock and they take each others hands.

John's eyes fly open, and a huge smile is on his face. He pulls Sherlock closer to him and cups Sherlock's cheek in his hand.

"There! Now come kiss me."

Sherlock looks at John, who closed his eyes and with an almost painful expression focussed on not Mycroft, probably meaning Sherlock. Sherlock watched intrigued how his face changed. It changed from bothered (Mycroft, obviously) to somewhat soft to absolutely beaming. Sherlock wondered what John was thinking about, but when John smiled so purely and openly, that it didn't really matter.

Sherlock threw his arms around John's neck and middle and kissed him with great joy and anticipation. He held John close to him, pressing him to his chest. Whatever John had thought of, it had so much positive power that they fell off the couch in each other's arms. They giggled for a moment before Sherlock kissed John again.

First, they kissed long, breathless snogs, feeling and holding each other. Of couse, after a while, things heated up more and they continued the train of thought before Mycroft interrupted them. But this time, no one did.

((I don't know if we want to write this out again?))