Sherlock, determined to keep hold of the laptop, found that doing so occupied one of his hands. Since the other hand was thrust behind him in case he backed into something, this allowed John free rein to quickly undo his two top shirt buttons as he pushed Sherlock towards the door of Angelo's restaurant. They smashed into the door, John crushing his lips against Sherlock's, the laptop hitting the glass door with a crack but luckily not breaking the glass. All the patrons in the restaurant looked their way at the noise. The young waiter opened the door.

The two men stumbled in, Sherlock slightly off balance and still backing up. Angelo heard the ruckus and came out, then a broad grin spread across his face as he recognised Sherlock and John. Sherlock managed to extract his lips from John's for long enough to say to Angelo, 'Private room… now!' and Angelo laughed and opened a back room door for them, allowing John to push Sherlock through, then closed the door with a smile, leaving them to it. The young waiter gave Angelo a round-eyed look, and commented, 'Bit different from the last time they came in here.'

Angelo shrugged and returned to his kitchen, whistling tunefully.

In the room, John had Sherlock's coat and scarf off already, and snatched the irritating laptop from Sherlock's hand and was about to drop it when Sherlock said, 'No! No, we might need it!' and grabbed it back and put it gently on the small dining table. John glared at Sherlock's shirt and grabbed it on both sides, then pulled, popping all the rest of the buttons in a single move. Sherlock began to laugh, and John grabbed his hair, and said, 'Shut up, just shut up. I want you. What the hell did you do to my programming? God, I want you.'

'Tweaked it a little. You're not gay, but-'

'I'm not? I think we could have fooled Angelo,' chuckled John, 'Wait, I'm not? What the devil is this then? I want you so bad I can taste it, Sherlock.'

'Yes, that's the tweaking I referred to,' smiled Sherlock, then gasped as John tugged the shirt off him, a little roughly, and started working on his trousers. John began growling and Sherlock put his head back slightly and said, 'Oh, John,' as the trousers and pants came off. He stood naked before John, and John looked around wildly, assessing the room for the first time. He pushed the small table to the side and pulled the cushions from the dining booth on to the floor, then picked Sherlock up and deposited him gently on the cushions, 'Sherlock… you reprogrammed me, right? So there's no need to ask you if you want this," said John.

'Of course not.'

'Just checking. Tell me, okay, tell me if things are getting out of hand, or too fast for you, okay?' warned John.

'Yes John. Oh….. yes John,' the final comment being when John began to take soft nips at Sherlock, starting at the neck and working quickly down his stomach. Sherlock groaned as the nips changed to gentle kisses, then he gasped as John moved his mouth down to engulf Sherlock's bobbing hardness in his mouth. Sherlock arched up and breathed, 'Oh God yes, oh John… yes, oh please…. yes!'

'Shut up, will you?' asked John, and Sherlock surprisingly, did. Although he couldn't resist one last sigh of contentment, 'Finally…..' as John began to suck at him and lick him, with amazing skill. (Too damned amazing. Sherlock didn't want to think where John had gained the bulk of his programming from). The detective sighed, then lay back on the cushions and let John go to work on his body.

And John did, with enthusiasm. He pumped Sherlock rhythmically with his mouth until Sherlock felt himself tightening up, 'John, look out, you're going to make me…. ah… oh….' John released him just as Sherlock could have sworn that nothing could stop him from coming, and climbed up to kiss the detective. Sherlock, gasping, realized that he had not climaxed, pulled his mouth away to ask, 'Aren't you going to undress?'

'Hadn't thought of it,' admitted John, and then Sherlock realized that John's fingers had drifted down and wrapped gently around his balls, palpating them maddeningly. Sherlock felt the cool fingers drift further back, tickling him slightly, then twirling lazily around his entrance, until one paused for a second, pressing against him, then slid just inside him. He moaned, and pressed himself up against John, kissing him frantically.

John hesitated and Sherlock growled, 'What? Don't tell me Mycroft…' he tried to sit up, looking towards the laptop, but John pushed him back gently but inexorably, then looked closely at him.

'No, not Mycroft this time, Sherlock, me.'

'What?'

'Look, I'm obviously okay with this, because you programmed me, but really, Sherlock, I'm a machine. Are you sure you're alright with it? Are you going to be alright afterwards?'

Sherlock smiled and touched John's cheek affectionately, 'You already answered your own question, John: I programmed you for this. So of course I'm okay with this.'

Sherlock was rewarded by a leisurely, passionate kiss, then he felt the return of the finger, and it was joined by a second, then a third finger, opening him, relaxing him, pushing further in… 'Gnaaaaaaah!' he cried out.

'Prostate?' asked John with a smile.

'Oh, Christ, yes. Do it again.'

'I have a better idea,' replied John, and released his own trouser zip, pulled off his trousers and pants and gave himself a swift stroke, down and up. Sherlock realized, 'Self-lubricating?'

'I'm a combat model designed to work in Afghanistan, a desert environment. Of course I'm self-lubricating, everywhere,' John pointed out mildly. Sherlock smiled, then gasped as John lined himself up and pressed onto Sherlock's entrance.

'One last time,' asked John, 'You're okay with this?'

'Yes, yes, oh, yes, pleeeease, John, just…. please.'

John smiled and pushed forwards, capturing Sherlock in a kiss and gazing deeply into the pale eyes, which glazed over as John gradually entered him. John hesitated as Sherlock said, 'Oh….' but then the detective nodded and John arched his body up, then drove himself gently and slowly into Sherlock. Sherlock's mouth dropped into an 'O' and stayed there, and his eyes closed in bliss as he felt himself slowly filled. John watched in utter fascination the play of emotions over the detective's face, then asked softly, 'Are you alright?'

'Oh, God, I'm in heaven….' moaned Sherlock.

'I'll take that as a yes, then.'

'Yes, yes, oh absolutely yes…' said Sherlock.

'I'll try moving, shall I?' asked John, and at the detective's nod, began to pull out slightly. Sherlock bit his lip, but John noticed and pushed in again, and Sherlock's head flew back and his mouth fell open. He moaned loudly.

'Good?' asked John.

'Good, yes, good, very good. Keep doing that,' panted Sherlock, so John complied.

Sherlock threw his head back again, his thoughts misting out into a fog of pleasure as John began to pump into him slowly but steadily, and the detective began to mutter an almost unintelligible stream of approving words, interspersed with the word, 'John' many times. John himself was having trouble coping with an alarming volume of new input… he did not realize that his pleasure receptors could accept so much information per nanosecond, and he did not understand how looking at Sherlock's face while he felt that pleasure increased it exponentially, but he was rather pleased with the result.

Then Sherlock's body began to tense and arch, and John felt something change in his programming, as his body began to pump so wildly into the detective's that he was afraid he would hurt him, and for a moment as Sherlock's body lifted off the cushions, and he cried out, a primal cry of something that John couldn't identity, John thought he had injured the detective. But seeing Sherlock climax did something strange to his own mind and suddenly the pleasure became a searing white heat frying all his synapses and it was overwhelming, so that he thrust himself forward one last time and felt something warm pour out of him into the detective.

John was still thrusting, little aftershocks of pleasure driving his body forwards into Sherlock's, when he began asking frantically, 'Are you alright, Sherlock are you alright, please God tell me you're okay.'

Sherlock muttered something.

'What?' asked John, his alarm peaking.

'Fine,' Sherlock managed to gasp, then reached a weak hand up to pull John into a lingering kiss, 'Oh, Christ, John, that was… I am so keeping you.'

John grinned, relieved, 'I thought I might have hurt you.'

'You could have killed me, and I wouldn't have cared,' smiled Sherlock.

'Don't say that.'

'Seriously, that was the best….' Sherlock chuckled and pulled John back to kiss him again.

There was a knock on the door, and Angelo's voice asked, 'Did you lads want dinner?'

John and Sherlock looked at each other, then burst out laughing.