It's been a while since I wrote any essentially plotless smut, since real life has kind of been getting in the way of my writing somewhat, so it's good to be back to my old Smut Queen self. Here's some Johnlock PWP at its finest. I hope it's as filthily entertaining to read as it was for me to write.

Feel free to chuck plenty of reviews my way.

And I don't own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson or 221B Baker Street or anything. Owning Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman in my mind palace doesn't count apparently.

Jealous Much

John noticed the scowl on Sherlock's face the moment the front door of 221B closed. The detective had been in a particularly foul mood since their latest client arrived, a pretty blonde twenty-something whose stolen jewellery failed to hold Sherlock's interest. Once he had waved her out of the flat with a blunt "Boring, go away," Sherlock had thrown himself on his leather armchair, glaring furiously into space.

"It's not the end of the world, Sherlock," said John, rolling his eyes at the detective's sullen mood. "I'm sure a more interesting case will come along soon. Why don't you text Lestrade again if you're so bored?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he watched John take a seat in his usual armchair. "You think I'm in a bad mood because of the lack of decent cases? Oh, John, your complete lack of deductive skills never fails to amaze me."

"Yes, thanks for that," said John in an exhausted sort of way, shaking his head at Sherlock's condescension. "So what's wrong with you then? I mean, besides the obvious."

"That woman that was just here," grumbled Sherlock. "Whatever her name was..."

"Her name was Claire," said John.

"Unimportant," said Sherlock, waving it away. "I knew immediately what type of woman she was; young, technically attractive, dependent on the generosity that her looks tend to inspire, and unresolved issues with her father that has lead to a number of troubled relationships with older men and a string of one night stands."

John didn't even bother asking how the hell Sherlock had figured all of that out.

"I saw it all the moment she walked through the door," Sherlock continued bitterly. "Once she realised that all of that silly, simpering hair flicking and flattery would never work on me, she turned her attention to you. And you, John... you flirted back."

There was a moment of pointed silence, before John scoffed.

"I wasn't flirting!" he insisted. "It's called being nice, Sherlock. I had to make up for how rude you were being to her, didn't I?"

"You were flirting," Sherlock said coldly. "Just like you do with every attractive woman who catches your eye, regardless of whether or not I happen to be standing right next to you."

"Oh my God," John said slowly. "Sherlock, are you... are you jealous?"

Sherlock got to his feet so quickly that John barely had time to register it, crossed the room in a few brisk paces and placed his hands on the armrests of John's chair so their faces were only inches away from each other.

"Of course I'm jealous," Sherlock said, bitterly. "Do you think I enjoyed watching that little display just now, seeing that blonde bimbo coming onto you even though it should be obvious that you are spoken for?"

"Sherlock..."

"And you fell for all her cheap flattery, John, even though it was so obvious that she was just trying to get you on side so I'd solve her pointless so-called case – as if I would waste my time."

"Sherlock, I..."

"You were just another older man to her anyway. She heard the name Dr. Watson and started imagining all the expensive presents you could shower her with in exchange for a few sordid sexual favours, I saw it all on her face, but of course she was far too stupid to realise all the obvious signs that you're not a wealthy man and you are certainly not single..."

"Sherlock, you're so sexy when you're jealous."

Sherlock's rant seemed to catch in his throat, and John took the opportunity to grab the back of his detective's head and pull him down into a hard kiss. Sherlock gasped before he could stop himself, but allowed himself to be pulled down onto John's lap as he was kissed. Once their lips separated John laughed and shook his head.

"You know, Sherlock," he said. "For someone so intelligent, you're such an idiot."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "There's no need to be puerile."

"I'm not being puerile, I'm just telling the truth," John chuckled. "I can't believe you're actually jealous just because some woman was flirting with me. Considering how little modesty you show on a regular basis I thought you'd think a bit more highly of yourself."

Sherlock ducked his head away from John's gaze, pouting like a child. "I have every right to be jealous. The whole time that you and I were just friends everyone assumed we were a couple, but now we're an actual couple the opposite of that seems to be happening. You can't blame me for being aggravated, all these boring normal people coming onto you like I'm not even there..."

"It's just harmless flirting," said John. "Honestly, it doesn't mean I'm suddenly going to up sticks and leave you, Sherlock."

When Sherlock didn't say anything, John pulled him closer to their foreheads were pressed together and slowly said "No one is ever going to steal me away from you, stupid. Not that Claire woman or any other boring normal person, for that matter. I love you, you impossible git. So reign in the crazy jealousy."

Sherlock smiled, the sort of genuine smile that made him look almost human and that only John was privileged enough to ever see, and kissed his doctor softly on the lips. "I love you too, you insatiable flirt. But my perfectly reasonable jealousy isn't quite ready to be reigned in just yet. I think I need a bit more convincing."

John grinned deviously. "Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

The two men scrambled out of John's armchair, their short walk to Sherlock bedroom – which was the closest – made more difficult by the fact that they couldn't seem to keep their hands or lips off each other long enough to actually walk in a straight line. Their path to the bedroom was littered with their clothes, and by the time they fell onto the bed the couple were both completely naked and flushed with arousal.

John straddled Sherlock's slim hips, kissing down his jaw and his pale neck as Sherlock let out an array of delicious baritone moans. Sherlock held John close, his slender fingers touching as much tanned skin as possible while he sucked and bit John's neck, leaving as many possessive marks as he could in places John would never be able to hide – even the most imbecilic person would be able to tell that John was very much spoken for.

John kissed his way down Sherlock's thin but pleasingly toned body, pausing to take each small nipple in his mouth in turn, sucking and nibbling until they both stood out hard and pink against the pale skin and Sherlock's breathing became shallower. John travelled lower down Sherlock's long body, leaving a trail of wet kisses, until he was in between Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock trembled with arousal as John kissed his inner thighs teasingly, sinking his teeth into the pale skin to leave large love-bites that would most likely be there for days. Sherlock grabbed handfuls of the bed sheets, sweat dripping down his face and his hard cock throbbing and leaking pre-come all over his stomach. He was desperate for release but knew there was no use in begging – John loved to be a tease.

"Why would I ever leave you?" John whispered, his breath against Sherlock's oversensitive skin making the detective squirm. "As if I would ever find anyone as beautiful as you, Sherlock... and no one could ever make you feel this way, could they? No one knows how to make you fall apart quite like I can..."

Sherlock shivered at John's words, the sound of his husky, seductive voice turning him on even more. "Please... please, John..."

"I love to hear you beg," John said with a smirk, caressing Sherlock's thighs slowly. "Sherlock Holmes never begs... except for me. But you've been so childish and jealous today, love. Maybe you don't deserve it, me giving in to your begging..."

Sherlock had to bite his lip to stop himself from letting out a needy and embarrassing whimper. His mind appeared to be short-circuiting, unable to do anything other than chant the words 'please-please-please-please-please' again and again. John seemed to know what was going on in Sherlock's head. He grinned mischievously and planted a little kiss on the tip of Sherlock's cock, chuckling when his detective gasped.

"On the other hand," said John, almost conversationally except that his voice was still so husky. "You did say you needed convincing that I'm all yours, that I'm not going to bugger off with some normal person. I should get to convincing you then."

John wrapped his hand around Sherlock's pulsing manhood, giving it a few slow strokes and smearing the pre-come over the crown with his thumb, before he dragged his tongue up the think length from base to tip. Sherlock's whole body shuddered with pleasure as John's tongue lapped at his crown, licking up the salty beads of pre-come before John finally sank his mouth down, taking as much of Sherlock's long cock into his mouth as he could without gagging.

"Oh... ohh, John..."

John began so very slowly bob his head up and down, swirling his tongue in all the right places around Sherlock's throbbing member, twisting his hand around the base while his other hand gentle cupped Sherlock's balls. Sherlock's breath was coming out sharp and laboured, the ecstasy coursing through his veins, better than any drug. The only word that seemed to be able to come out of his mouth of John's name, chanted over and over again like a mantra in between deep, desperate moans.

Sherlock glanced down and had to bite his fist to stop from crying out – the sight of his cock disappearing into John's gorgeous mouth and those sweet blue eyes, blown out with lust, staring up at him was almost enough to make him lose control and come down John's throat. But John was keeping Sherlock right on the edge, never quite giving him enough to bring him to climax, and just when Sherlock thought he was about to go insane, John took his cock out of his mouth with an obscene little pop.

"W-why... why are you stopping?" Sherlock asked, his deep voice strung out with need.

"Because I don't want you to come just yet," said John, his own voice sounding hoarse and used. "I need you inside me first, Sherlock."

Sherlock groaned and sat up against the headboard just as John crawled back onto his lap, the two men kissing each other fiercely, only separating when John reached over to the bedside cabinet for a bottle of lube. Sherlock slicked his slender fingers up and reached around John, catching his lips in another hard kiss as his pushed two wet fingers inside his doctor's hole. John groaned into Sherlock's mouth, pushing down on those nimble fingers as they thrust in and out, twisting and scissoring to stretch him out. The threw his head back and cried out once those fingers found his prostate, Sherlock rubbing the tips of his fingers over that little bundle of nerves again and again until John was moaning his name. Once a third finger was added John said that he was ready, resting his head against Sherlock's shoulder to catch his breath.

Sherlock used some more lube to slick up his aching erection and positioned himself at John's entrance, and held onto John's hips as he lowered himself down onto Sherlock's length, both of them groaning at the wonderful feeling. They kissed slowly and sensually as John got himself used to the intrusion, before they finally began to move.

It started out slow, John lifting himself off of Sherlock's lap until only the head of Sherlock's cock was inside him, before carefully lowering himself back down, the couple kissing and caressing each other as they did. Once their arousal began to grow, however, their movements became faster and harder and more frantic. Sherlock held tightly onto John's hips, so tight he was sure to leave bruises, thrusting his hips upwards as he brought John down hard onto his lap, and leaving even more dark red possessive love-bites all over John's neck and chest. John braced himself against the headboard, bouncing up and down on Sherlock's cock, riding him harder and faster, Sherlock feeling so incredibly deep inside him and hitting his prostate with every thrust.

They were both so close, teetering on the edge of their orgasms. The bed creaked underneath them and their cries and moans were probably loud enough for all of Baker Street to hear. Sherlock reached between them and wrapped his hand around John's leaking cock, stroking quickly, willing his doctor to come as he sucked hard on the skin just behind John's ear, leaving a nice red mark to bloom. John had one hand braced against the wall behind the bed, the other clinging onto Sherlock's arm for dear life, his fingernails sure to leave scratches that neither cared about just yet. They were so close, so fucking close...

Finally John's whole body shuddered and he muffed his scream in Sherlock's neck as he came hard, his seed spilling all over Sherlock's hand and their stomachs in hot ropes as walls clamping down on Sherlock's cock still thrusting deep inside him. Just seconds later Sherlock finally reached his own climax, unable to hold on much longer. He bit down on John's good shoulder as his orgasm hit him like ton of bricks, and as his body shook with the aftershocks of pleasure his normally chaotic mind was unusually and blissfully empty.

Sherlock and John collapsed on the bed, too exhausted to clean up or even cover themselves with the duvet. They curled up in a tangle of limbs, breathless and sweaty and content.

"That was..." Sherlock began to say, searching for the right word even though it felt like his mind palace had had its walls knocked through with a bulldozer. "That was... it was..."

"I know," John said, unable to stop himself from giggling. "I can always tell a particularly good shag when I manage to make your enormous brain stop working."

Sherlock chuckled, holding John closer as his mind started to function properly again. "I should get jealous more often, it leads to some truly spectacular sex."

"It does indeed," said John, snuggling up to his detective as his eyelids started to droop. "Although it's going to be impossible for me to cover up all these bloody love-bites."

"That was the idea," said Sherlock smugly. "Now no one can say they don't know you're spoken for."

Hope you enjoyed the filth, Humble Readers.

xxx