Author Notes: So, this story will be two chapters long and the next chapter should be ready in two to three weeks, hopefully. *crosses her fingers* Let me know how you like the story. :)

Trigger Warning: Mentions and descriptions of spousal abuse (Not between Sherlock and John)!

The Deduction

"I didn't know that you smoked." John frowned at Sally as she took a drag from her cigarette and was only met with a shrug. "I don't... or at least, I haven't in several years, but this case..." She didn't finish her sentence and truthfully, there was no need to give voice to the terrible secrets they had unearthed at the manor that loomed behind them.

John certainly didn't want to recall the past few days in too much detail. It sent a cold shudder down his spine whenever he thought about it and considering how used he was too gruesome deaths and psychopathic games, that meant something. He couldn't blame Sally for craving a smoke, when even Sherlock had been upset about the case... although John doubted that anyone of the Yarders had noticed the detective's unease, when they had finally unraveled the whole bloody - literally - puzzle.

"It would have been easier to handle, if Miller had killed his daughter for some selfish reasons, instead of..."

Obviously John had been wrong and Sally wanted to talk about the case, after all. A silent sigh escaped past his lips and he glanced in the general direction, where he suspected Sherlock. The detective was where he had left him - in front of the main entrance to the manor - and talking animatedly to the federal law prosecutor, Greg and another man, John had never seen before.

"Arthur Greenhill," Sally answered John's unvoiced questions as she followed his gaze. "He is a psychologist. I have worked with him a few times. He is good at his job, but... I doubt that it would have changed anything, if we had consulted him sooner. It's most certainly too late now, but..." Sally shrugged and John nodded in understanding. It was normal procedure to consult a psychologist in such a case... in the case of stumbling over an unhealthy, abusive relationship in the midst of their investigations. John shuddered, when he recalled the shock at realising the depths of Mrs. Miller's manipulations.

"She has completely broken him over the years." Sally's voice was laced with disgust and John wouldn't have been surprised if she had spat on the ground. "She told me that it started small at first - telling him when and what to eat, ordering him around in general, taking her anger out on him by slapping him or throwing things at him or... commanding him into her bed - and that she didn't manipulate him intentional at first. Obviously she was just an abusive piece of shit, until..." Sally took another shaking drag from her cigarette. "Until she realised that he would do anything to please her, that he would crawl on the floor just to get a few crumbs of love."

John would have laughed at Sally's poetic description, if the situation hadn't been so sad. Mrs. Miller had managed to break her husband over half a dozen years, until he had been ready to do anything for her. And by anything, John meant that he had killed three people for his wife - including her stepchild, his own daughter. The whole story probably wouldn't have come out, if Sherlock hadn't taken the case - only a four, when Lestrade first brought it to him - out of sheer boredom. He had dragged the pain, fear and horror of years of abuse to the light.

"Some of the other police offers believe that it's Miller's own fault for staying with his wife and that it is impossible to be under someone's spell like this." Sally nodded to a few of her colleagues in disgust and it reminded John of why he could have a civil conversation with the Sergeant by now. She had been one of few, who hadn't doubted that it was possible for a woman to abuse a man... and she had finally ceased to call Sherlock a freak. John wasn't exactly sure what carried more weight for him. It was probably a mix of both - a proof that Sally shed a lot of her own prejudices, since Sherlock had returned from the dead.

"It's not his fault that she twisted their relationship like this. She used his dependence on her to her own advantage. If she had been a decent human being, she would have done everything in her power to keep their relationship a healthy one, instead of chaining him to her like this." John rarely defended a murderer - and despite everything, the fact remained that Miller had killed three people - but in this case, it wasn't as black and white as he would have liked.

"It will be a long court case," Sally muttered in reply. "Psychological consultants, cold facts, the testimonies of everyone who knew the couple and not to speak of Miller who is still in denial about the abuse he has suffered."

John cringed at that. He had seen enough victims of domestic violence to know that it could take a lot for them to admit to themselves that they had been abused by their own spouses. He was truly glad that the case would be over for Sherlock and him, once they had given their statements. Speaking of Sherlock, the consulting detective had just finished his consultation with the two men and was heading their way.

"You know," Sally started, when John was just about to take his leave. "At first I was doubtful of your relationship with him as well, when I realised that you two were really a couple. I thought that he would certainly manipulate you like this woman did, but," Sally hurried on, before John could interrupt her with an angry retort. "I don't think he is a psychopath anymore and... you are really the one in charge in this relationship, Doctor Watson."

Before he could question how she came to this conclusion, Sherlock reached them and John bid Sally a hasty goodbye, before it could come to insults between the two. He just needed a peaceful evening with Sherlock and then he could start to forget about this horrible case... or so he thought.

OOO

"Sherlock! Dinner in ten!"

"Not hungry!"

John sighed loudly, but forced himself to stir the spicy cheese sauce - Mrs. Hudson's special recipe - one more time and turned the heat off, before he ventured into the living-room, where Sherlock posed on the couch. Really, there was no other word for how Sherlock was sprawled across the piece of furniture. It reminded John of the paintings of Roman patricians, although he doubted that he had ever seen one that pouted just the way Sherlock did. It would be adorable, if John hadn't spent the last two hours in the kitchen, trying to get the sauce and the risotto just right... because Sherlock had looked interested, when Mrs. Hudson had mentioned her special sauce and John had been desperate. Desperate to get his brilliant boyfriend to eat more than a piece of toast and he wouldn't give up just yet.

Marching up to the couch, John glared down at Sherlock, who had the cheek to ignore him as he kept pouting at the ceiling.

"You haven't eaten in two days," John started and was met with an irritated huff. "Really John, if you have the need to monitor me, please do so correctly. I had an apple and a toast this morning."

"You had a slice of apple and a bite of toast this morning," John shot back and Sherlock rolled his eyes at him. "Details."

"Yes, details. The small pieces of information that you are always on about when it's about a case."

"But this isn't a case, John." Sherlock turned onto his back and crossed his arms behind his head. "It would be great if it was a case. At least better than this." Blue-grey eyes flickered over the chaos in the living-room and John groaned inwardly as he finally understood what the matter was with his boyfriend. Really, he should have seen it sooner, especially as it had been three days since they had solved their last case and it was to be expected that Sherlock... was bored. Yes, it was as simple as that - or not so simple when it came to a brilliant detective - and yet, John hadn't seen the signs, until now. Overworked, his mind supplied him with an excuse as he had been forced to work a double-shift, right after they had come back from the last crime scene. It was as good an excuse as any and yet it didn't solve the problem of the sulking detective - Sherlock would fume at this wording.

"You promised me to eat something, when you don't have any cases on," John tried patiently, but Sherlock only sneered at that. "As we already established, I have eaten something today."

"And it's not enough to fuel your body for more than a few minutes, let alone for a whole day." Sometimes, John felt like he was discussing with a five year old, only that he presumed it was easier to get a child to eat something if they were hungry than to even get a bite into this stubborn man.

"Please, just because your body constantly needs to digest food and..."

"You're human, Sherlock, not an alternative life form that turns dust into energy. No," John added harshly, when Sherlock opened his mouth, probably to tell him how stupid his example was. "Listen to me! You have barely eaten during the case - just enough to prevent a collapse - and you haven't had anything that counted as a complete meal, since we went to the Chinese restaurant afterwards. I know that you have gone longer without food - and you know what I think of that - but two days without eating is long enough. You don't want to be half-starved if an interesting case comes in." It was a mix of logic arguments and his commanding voice and John deflated inwardly, when Sherlock still didn't show any sign of getting up anytime soon.

"As if there are any interesting cases anymore. They are all boring. It's as if all the criminals have lost their touch. Sometimes, I wish..."

"What?!" John snapped, tired by the argument and triggered by Sherlock's words. "If you enjoyed Moriarty's games so much, why didn't you elope with him? You could have seen the world burn... wasn't this what he promised you? I'm sure that you wouldn't be as bored with him as you are obviously with me and..."

"John!" Wide blue eyes stared at him in shock and snapped him out of his rant, as Sherlock unfolded his legs and scrambled up from the couch. "I don't... I never wished for Moriarty to come back. I'm glad that he is dead and that his network is destroyed. I don't... I wouldn't have left you for two years if..."

"It's fine." John shook his head, disgusted by himself for how easily he had ripped open old wounds, judging by the look of raw despair in Sherlock's eyes. Christ, they had had this conversation numerous times, after Sherlock had returned from the dead. There had been tears and angry insults, loud arguments and crashed crockery, but in the end they had mended their friendship. It had taken time, but they had worked through all their feelings - mostly disappointment, betrayal and anger on John's side - and had emerged on the other side as lovers. All was fine - better than fine actually - and John had forgiven his friend for the two years of anguish and grief, therefore it was more than unfair to accuse him of wishing for a criminal like Moriarty. Sherlock loved interesting crimes, but that didn't mean that he wanted to play a deadly game with a criminal mastermind once more and John... he was tired...

"Your words scared me. It reminded me of how fascinated you were by Moriarty at first and... I'm sorry, I don't believe that you wish for him to come back and I... I'm glad - more than glad - that we are together."

Blue eyes melted at John's words and their owner leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head, before he marched in the direction of the kitchen. "I'm also glad that we are together... I doubt that Moriarty would have prepared risotto with spicy cheese sauce for me."

It was one of Sherlock's ways to apologize and although John didn't think that his boyfriend owed him anything - his words had been far more hurtful than Sherlock's - he accepted it quietly, as long as it meant that his friend was going to eat something.

"Mrs. Hudson also wouldn't have given him the recipe," John joked as he joined Sherlock in the kitchen and they both chuckled inappropriately over their steaming dishes.

John smiled quietly as he watched how Sherlock wolfed down the risotto and made a note to find his friend something interesting to experiment on for tomorrow, to prevent their latest argument from repeating itself in one form or another. At least an experimenting Sherlock wasn't as easily annoyed as a bored one.

OOO

"You're naked"

"And you are stating the obvious," Sherlock muttered in reply, his eyes glued to the microscope. "Next you will state that I'm still wet."

John opened his mouth and then closed it again, when he realised that his boyfriend was in fact... wet. His hairs lay in wet curls against his neck and drops of water were running down Sherlock's back, until they vanished in the cleft of his arse cheeks.

A familiar stirring in his pants reminded John just how long it had been, since he had gotten the chance to lay hands on Sherlock's plush arse. Between the last case, his boyfriend's sulk and John's work at the clinic, they had only gotten a few kisses in. Not that John thought of their sex life as lacking - it certainly wasn't - but sometimes he wished that they could take more time to pleasure each other. A few hours - or even a whole day - spent in bed - making love, cuddling and dosing - certainly sounded like a good idea.

John's eyes flickered to his watch. It was four at a Saturday afternoon. He wasn't due for another shift at the clinic, until Monday afternoon and Sherlock didn't have any cases on, therefore... it was certainly worth a try.

A grin pulled John's lips apart as he leaned over Sherlock's shoulder and rubbed his nose against his lover's neck, while his left hand sneaked to an already hard nipple. "Aren't you getting cold?" John breathed against wet curls and licked an inviting earlobe for good measure. A shudder ran through the lean body and John smirked as he rubbed his index finger over Sherlock's nipple. "I don't want you to catch pneumonia."

"You as a doctor should know that it's impossible to catch pneumonia from mere exposure to the cold."

John nodded the hitch in his boyfriend's voice, even when he tried to sound aloof and he placed his other hand on Sherlock's thigh. "You're right of course, but being cold means that your body has to bring energy up to warm you and this energy can't be used for your immune system anymore, which makes all the little bacteria really happy." John chuckled, when Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance at his flawed - and not really scientific - explanation. "I could warm you up a little, so that you don't get sick." John was well aware that his words sounded like they were taken from a porno, but that was part of the fun. It wasn't intended as a role play game - John wasn't really into this kind of thing, he never managed to stay in character - but the uninspired texts always got an amused laugh out of Sherlock.

It was the same this time, when his boyfriend turned his head away from the microscope and focused on John. "So, you want me to interrupt my time sensitive experiment on the growth of spore fungus - for which I ran out of the shower without toweling off - in order to have sex with you?"

John cocked his head to the side as if thinking it over and then shut it quickly. "No, I want you to interrupt your experiment, so that I can take you to the bedroom and take you apart, until you have forgotten everything about your experiment."

Interest sparked in blue eyes - and in other parts of Sherlock's anatomy - when John's fingers stroked the inside of his thigh and brushed his balls - by complete accident of course. "I have only gotten twenty minutes, until the next stage of the experiment needs to start."

John frowned slightly as he fought a lightning war with his conscience, which he won easily, when his eyes fell on the half hard flesh of his lover. "Twenty minutes should be sufficient," he whispered in as low a voice as possible and dragged Sherlock to his feet and in the direction of the bedroom. He saw it as a challenge to make his brilliant boyfriend lose track of time and exchange all thoughts of spore fungi with pleasure fueled images.

OOO

"You're so beautiful," John whispered reverently as he took in the amazing creature that was his boyfriend. Sherlock was spread out on his stomach, before John's worshipping eyes. His pale skin was flushed with heat and pleasure. Sweat had replaced the water drops on his neck and his cock had long since exceeded half hard. It was definitely as hard and flush as it could get as it hung heavily between Sherlock's thighs - probably still wet from John's tongue.

A shiver ran down John's spine and he caught himself just in time to stop the motion of his hand that had wandered towards his own cock. As satisfying as it would be to come all over Sherlock's arse and back, he had something else in mind - and he doubted that even his boyfriend had yet figured out what it was.

"John," Sherlock growled impatiently and wriggled his arse at him. No, he definitely hadn't figured it completely out, when he believed that John was going to take him, although he had plans for Sherlock's arse.

Giving in to Sherlock's plea - his boyfriend would certainly call it a command - John grabbed the presented arse cheeks. He was always surprised at how it was possible for them to be plush and hard at the same time. It certainly felt amazing to just knead the flesh with his fingers... and listen to his lover's elaborated breathing at the same time.

"John," Sherlock pressed out once more - one of the few words his boyfriend could speak while in the middle of sex - and John chuckled quietly as he parted round cheeks and blew between them. A keening sound escaped his lover and John wondered how many varying noises he could get out of Sherlock as he pressed open mouth kisses on soft skin, before licking a wet trail from Sherlock's tailbone to his hole and back up again.

"God... John... please!" And there his lover had once told a dominatrix that he never begged, John thought with satisfaction. The memory of Irene Adler cooled his own arousal and gave John the patience to have his wicked way with the inviting arse of his lover.

Some people thought it unsanitary to push one's tongue into someone else's arse or to suck on the flesh that surrounded said hole, but John certainly wasn't one of them. For one thing, Sherlock was almost pedantic when it came to his hygiene and for the other part... he just loved rimming too much to give up on it. The musky, heavy scent that went straight to his cock, when he buried his nose between Sherlock's cheeks. The velvet skin between his lips. The thrill of doing something almost forbidden and dirty. And of course the way he reduced his lover to a whimpering, begging wreck, whenever he twisted his tongue inside him. Yes, John definitely loved all of it.

"God, John... I..." John withdrew his tongue and let go of flushed cheeks - which would bear the imprint of his fingertips the next day - as he could tell that Sherlock was close to the edge. Very close, if his desperate moan was anything to go by.

"Patience, dear, I have something in mind, you will like. Can you wait so long?" John waited for Sherlock to nod, before he reached for the items he had deposited at the foot of the bed, when they had first entered the bedroom. If Sherlock had been desperate for an orgasm, John would have left them for another day, but as it was, he got to live out one of his fantasies.

John opened the lube and squeezed a healthy amount on his fingers, before he stroked between Sherlock's cheeks. The muscles around his hole were already relaxed and wet, it wouldn't take much to get him ready for what John had in mind. He pushed one finger into his lover's tight heat and was rewarded with a happy sigh and a wriggling of a sexy arse as he pushed deeper. He took enough time to spread the lube generously and widen his lover slightly, before he withdraw once more.

"John," Sherlock's unsure voice sounded after a minute without activity - at least without any he could notice in his position. "I don't mind it a little rough, but we haven't had sex in quite some time and..."

"Shh," John pressed a kiss on Sherlock's right cheek and then reached for the second item and stroked it along a quivering thigh.

Sherlock stilled.

"The small anal plug with vibrating function." It was a breathless whisper and John hummed in confirmation. "Yes, do you want to have it in you, while I ride your cock?" John was damn sure that Sherlock was up for it, but he wouldn't push anything up his lover's arse without getting verbal consent first.

"Yes." Sherlock's voice was at least an octave lower than usual. "Please, that sounds... God, yes."

A quiet smile turned John's lips up. "Relax," he ordered and lubed the plug up, before he slowly pushed it inside his lover. It was small - smaller than your usual anal plug - but they had bought it, because it wasn't necessary to hold it all the time like you had to do with a vibrator and... it came with a remote.

When John was sure that the plug sat snuggly inside Sherlock, he pressed the button to start the vibration. It's vibrations would increase every two minutes - this setting had certainly been a selling point - and John wondered to which level they would get, before they both came.

"Oh, that's..." Sherlock wriggled his arse in delight and John chuckled quietly, before he pushed lightly against his lover's hip. "Turn on your back."

A shudder of anticipation went through Sherlock's body as he did as he had been told and John had to grab the base of his shaft hard to prevent himself from coming right then and there. God, but Sherlock was sexy as hell. His chest was flushed with heat and glistening with transpiration. Dark curls were fanned out on the pillow and his face... Christ, John could spend hours describing the flush on these sharp cheekbones, the slightly parted - kiss swollen - lips and the abnormally dilated pupils, but he really didn't want to wait so long.

He grabbed the condom - the last item that hadn't been put to good use on the bed - and made short process of tearing the packet open and rolling it on Sherlock's cock. He added a generous amount of lube to it and then positioned himself above Sherlock's lap. Just when he was about to lower himself on his lover, strong hands grabbed his hips and stopped him.

"What...?" John started. He had been sure that Sherlock had wanted this - he had confirmed it after all - but if he had changed his mind, it was fine as well. Not optimal, but they could still find release in a different way. John was just about to suggest something else, when Sherlock beat him to it. "You... I haven't prepared you. There is enough lube, but..."

John's eyes softened at Sherlock's worried tone and he leaned forward to steal a kiss from tender lips. "Don't worry, I prepared myself, when I fingered you as well. I'm more than ready for you."

"What are you waiting for then?!"

John laughed at Sherlock's impatient tone and refrained from reminding him, who had interrupted their lovemaking, instead he gripped his lover's cock in a steady hand and sank slowly down on him.

"Yesss!" John sighed happily as his lover's length stretched him. He loved this feeling. The feeling of being filled. The slight burn, when his body stretched to allow part of Sherlock inside him. The look of utter pleasure on Sherlock's face, when his mouth dropped open as he sank into John.

"Move!" Sherlock commanded breathlessly after several heartbeats had gone by and John was all too happy to oblige. He didn't bother with going slow as he leaned forwards to capture Sherlock's lips in a bruising kiss, while he rode his lover's cock with abandon. He had held himself back the whole time he had pleasured Sherlock and now he just wanted to come... and to feel Sherlock come as well.

"John... Oh God... Yes!" Sherlock cursed as he panted against John's neck, his fingers digging into John's hips as he bucked up into his lover, hitting his prostate every second thrust or so and John... He was close, so fucking close and...

Sherlock moaned and gasped as he increased his speed - just like the plug had increased its vibrations, John suspected - and John knew that his lover was close as well. They both were and a few more well placed thrusts latter, it was over. John couldn't say who came first - he was too far gone by then - but he felt his orgasm crash over him as he came all over lover's chest and Sherlock pressed up into him as he tumbled over the edge as well.

They stayed like this - sweaty and intertwined - for some time, until Sherlock started to squirm under John. "Too much... the vibrator... John."

John nodded against Sherlock's chest and then got up from his lover to find the remote and turn the vibrations off. While he was at it - and while Sherlock was still relaxed - he also took the plug out and then sat back on the bed to grin at his completely exhausted lover.

"Come here," Sherlock murmured and John was all too happy to oblige as he snuggled up against his lover. They would need to change the sheets and clean the toy later - and also have a shower - but right now cuddling was right on top of John's priority list.

OOO

John must have dosed off as he blinked in surprise, when Sherlock suddenly sat up with a sigh. "So much to my fungi," he muttered and John giggled, as his lover untangled their legs to get up.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock gestured to the kitchen and John shook his head. "No, go ahead. I will clean our mess up and then order take away."

"Thai," Sherlock ordered and then hurried to the kitchen, in all his naked glory. John looked after him with a soft smile, before he closed his eyes once more.

"She told me that it started small at first - telling him when and what to eat, ordering him around in general, taking her anger out on him by slapping him or throwing things at him or... commanding him into her bed..."

John frowned as the memory of his conversation with Sally ghosted through his mind. Really, why would he think of that, when... He sat up suddenly, his heart racing as he stared at the mess on their bed, without really seeing it as images flew through his mind. Images of Sherlock and him. Memories of John ordering Sherlock to eat something and nagging him until he complied. Screenshots of every time, John had shaken Sherlock in anger, when his boyfriend had done something extremely stupid. A list of all the times, when John had seduced Sherlock to come to bed with him, although his boyfriend had been otherwise engaged. Dear God...

John stared at his hands. They were shaking. In fact, his whole body was shaking as the realisation hit him: He was abusing his power over Sherlock. Manipulating him to do things, he didn't want to do, with the excuse that his boyfriend needed someone to look after him.

"Oh fuck!"

John stared in the direction of the kitchen, where Sherlock certainly tried to safe his experiment... after John had ruined it. He had promised Sherlock a quickie and instead they had been in bed for almost two hours... and he had planned it. He had planned to have a lazy afternoon of lovemaking with his lover, without asking for Sherlock's opinion. No matter that his boyfriend had obviously enjoyed himself immensely, but it was still not right of John. He shouldn't manipulate Sherlock like this. He loved him and he knew that his lover sometimes depended more on him than he would admit to anyone and therefore...

"Calm the fuck down, Watson!" John took a few deep breaths and then went to do as he had said - cleaning up the mess they had made. When the sheets were replaced and the toy cleaned, John's head had cleared enough to allow him to come to a solution for the problem. He would just stop. Stop nagging Sherlock about his eating and sleeping habits. Stop commanding him around and scolding him like a small child, when he insulted the whole of Scotland Yard again. Stop ruining his experiments, when John's libido got the better of him.

Yes, he would make sure that their relationship didn't become unhealthy.

John nodded to himself - proud that he had seen their problem, before it was too late - and went in search of his phone to order Thai.