They were still kneeling on the floor when Mrs. Hudson found them. She didn't comment on their positions, merely said that Lestrade was out in the living room. Then she smiled knowingly at them and left. John coughed, slightly embarrassed, but unwilling to move from where he was. Sherlock was the first to move and John would be lying if he said that didn't hurt at least a little bit. Sherlock's hand slowly lifted off of John's. John made a pathetic whimpering sound as Sherlock backed away and stood.

Sherlock didn't say anything. He merely gave John a said smile and stuck the DVD under his pillow. He cast another sad smile at John as he left the room. John sighed heavily and the hand on his chest curled into a fist as his eyes closed tightly. He was pretty sure he was just going to kill Lestrade and be done with it. The grey-headed man was always ruining whatever was going on.

John pushed himself off the ground and ambled into the next room where Sherlock and Lestrade were talking. Lestrade was sitting in John's chair and Sherlock was sitting in his own. Sherlock threw a heated look at John that made John swallow thickly. John turned away and went to the kitchen to make a quick cup of tea.

When he returned he came to stand behind Sherlock, leaning down on the chair until he was nearly bent in half. He purposely directed his breath to Sherlock's ear and watched as the detective squirmed. He smirked in satisfaction and leaned until his lips were practically on Sherlock's ear. He lifted a hand to curtain his mouth from Lestrade's eyes and ears.

"Apologize," John whispered in a firm, husky voice.

Sherlock shivered as John drew back and his eyes became unfocused. He seemed to be struggling to pay attention to what Lestrade was saying. John's eyes flickered to the other man's crotch and he was very satisfied with what he found. Sherlock listened to Lestrade detailing the case though he looked like he wanted to be somewhere far, far away. John leaned back down.

"Apologize," he pressed more firmly.

"I heard you the first time!" Sherlock whispered back in a snappish tone.

John's hand came to rest on the man's other shoulder and he squeezed tightly.

"Don't backtalk, Sherlock," John whispered in silent warning.

Sherlock shivered again and stood abruptly. Lestrade sputtered to a halt and looked up in confusion.

"Lestrade, I need to apologize," Sherlock said firmly, "I'm very sorry that I tried to seduce you last night. That was extremely unfair of me and I was only doing it for my own gain."

Lestrade blushed and looked away.

"Apology accepted," he muttered.

"I must also apologize for how I've treated you in general," Sherlock said, his eyebrows coming together, "I'm a very cold person and I realize that I have not been the greatest…friend to you. Though you have been to me. So I hope you accept my apology and come with me, John and my brother to breakfast tomorrow morning at 9 o'clock."

Lestrade looked stunned for a moment.

"Thank you, Sherlock," Lestrade said quietly, "Text me the place and let me know when you can get some of your paperwork done."

"Sounds lovely," John supplied.

Lestrade stood up and held out a hand to Sherlock who shook it briefly.

"You really don't care to hear about how I apprehended the murderer, do you?" he questioned tiredly.

"Not really, no," Sherlock answered honestly.

"I just like telling you," Lestrade said, shrugging his shoulders, "So you can see how your brain helps out the Yard's brawn. Anyway, I'll go now. I smell strong sexual tension in the air."

John blushed and Sherlock had the decency to look embarrassed. Lestrade left and Sherlock remained where he was standing. John didn't move from his position behind the chair either for a very long time. After a while he started towards the kitchen.

"Would you like some tea, Sherlock?" John asked as though nothing was going on.

"No," Sherlock said firmly, grabbing John's wrist and pulling him around to face him, "No tea. Just you."

John gasped as Sherlock's searing lips crashed into his own. Sherlock's mouth trailed down his jaw leaving burning kisses as he went. He pressed John until he bumped into the wall and he rocked his hips into John's. John sputtered as Sherlock's nimble fingers worked at his fly. This wasn't exactly what John had had in mind when he thought he was going to have sex with Sherlock…

"Sh-Sherlock!" John shouted.

Sherlock looked up and his eyes were shining bright with fierce passion. When John didn't say anything he continued on, his hand now delving into John's jeans and maneuvering around John's red pants. He smirked, the motion causing his lips to brush against John's cheek.

"Well, this is awkward," came Lestrade's voice from the doorway.

John sent a glare the other man's way and growled at him.

"What the hell do you want, Lestrade?" John demanded as intimidatingly as he could with Sherlock's hand down his trousers.

"Dropped my phone," Lestrade said, awkwardly moving around them and going to the chair where his phone was sitting on the cushion.

John glared the man down until he left the flat.

"I think I might actually kill that guy," John decided out loud, "He ruins everything."

Sherlock laughed loudly and laid his head on John's shoulder.

"Sorry, this just seems laughable to me now," Sherlock muttered.

"Oh, really?" John snapped, "I see nothing funny here."

He crossed his arms and tried to pout (which was difficult considering Sherlock's hand was still down his trousers). Sherlock lifted his head and pressed gentle kisses to John's cheek and jaw.

"Now, now, don't be like that," Sherlock whispered.

John glared firmly in a different direction, though he could feel heat rising back in him as Sherlock's hand began to move again.

"Jawwnn," Sherlock moaned, "Come on. Don't pout."

John refused to look back at Sherlock as the tall man's slender fingers grasped him tightly still inside his trousers and pants.

"John, come on," Sherlock said again, sounding a bit more irritated.

John grabbed Sherlock's shirt and whirled him around so he was the one with his back to the wall. Sherlock's hand had slipped out in surprise. John gripped the detective's shirt in his fists and pulled the man down so he was eye level with him.

"I think we both know how this going to work, Sherlock," he said in a low, husky voice, "You will not be giving me orders."

Sherlock swallowed hard and nodded jerkily.

"Good boy," John whispered, loosening his grip on Sherlock's shirt.

Sherlock shivered at the words.

"Wh-what…do you want me to do?" Sherlock asked, trying hard to restrain his eagerness and arousal.

John smirked at Sherlock and Sherlock swallowed again.

"First thing you're going to do is go into your room," John said in a dangerously low voice, "And prepare yourself for me."

Sherlock wobbled slightly and gripped John's forearms to steady himself.

"Then you're going to come out here," John continued.

He pulled Sherlock further down and put his lips right on the other man's ear.

"And you're going fuck yourself on my cock," John finished in a breathy whisper, "You'd like that wouldn't you?"

Sherlock moaned into John's ear in response. John felt a shiver go down his own spine at the sound. He let go of Sherlock's shirt and the other man stumbled towards his room. John watched with satisfaction as Sherlock tripped over himself. God was he going to enjoy this.

He went and sat in his chair and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He had to shudder at his own forcefulness. He hoped he hadn't gone too far with it. He opened an eye and peeked at Sherlock's closed door. Maybe this is too much, too fast…John thought worriedly. He closed his eye back and tried to reason it all out. I want Sherlock. Sherlock wants me. Why should it matter?...then again, Sherlock doesn't do emotions, but I do. And I know I love the prick…but I doubt he would ever love me like that. I suppose I can just be content with this…

Maybe Sherlock will grow to love me, John thought hopefully, he seemed to have quite a bit of emotion this morning…maybe it isn't too much to think that maybe one day we'll be together. Ugh. I don't know. All I know is I want him pretty badly right now. God, I feel like a horny teenager…

Suddenly, hesitant hands were on his trousers. He hadn't bothered to zip himself back up, so to Sherlock it probably looked like he was just sitting there waiting for Sherlock to do as instructed. He kept his eyes closed as Sherlock freed his cock from the clothing. Sherlock climbed up on his lap and John lazily opened his eyes.

Sherlock's face was flushed in a wonderful way and he was already breathing heavily. The taller man positioned himself straight over John and lowered himself slowly. John hissed as his prick entered Sherlock and Sherlock let out a throaty moan. Sherlock lowered himself all the way down, panting heavily, his eyes squeezed closed. John had to admit it was a wonderful sight.

Sherlock gasped as his ass hit John's lap and he leaned forward slightly. His hands gripped the back of the chair behind John's shoulders. His eyes opened slightly and he squinted at John. John smirked at him, pleased with his current position.

"God you're big," Sherlock groaned, "You're huge. Or maybe it's just because it's been so long. God, so full. Oh god. Approximately 13.5 girth. 17 length."

John frowned at Sherlock's measurements. How the hell did he know that? Sherlock suddenly started moving, sliding up and down on John, who gasped at the suddenly stimulation. Sherlock moaned in an obscene way that made John buck up against him. John pried his eyes back up, just becoming aware that he'd closed them. Sherlock's hands had moved to his chest and he bounced up and down with apparent ease. This was when John noticed that Sherlock's button-down shirt was hanging unbuttoned around his shoulders, the sleeves falling past his hands.

"God, you are sexy," John gasped out.

Sherlock made a whining noise and opened his eyes to look at John. John gripped the arms of the chair as Sherlock's fell back and he moaned obscenely. John watched intently as Sherlock bobbed up and down, moaning and writing. He smirked slightly, taking great pride in knowing that he didn't even have to move to undo Sherlock like this. John couldn't wait to take this man apart, a fact that excited him and frightened him at the same time.

John moved his hands settling them on Sherlock's sharp hips, resting them there until he was ready to use them. Sherlock was groaning and panting, all thought and discretion apparently thrown out the window. John could hardly stand the way Sherlock didn't even try to hold anything back. Every moan and grunt and gasp was thrown into the air as he moved up and down. John shivered from it all, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

"Jawwnn?" Sherlock questioned in a moan, slumping forward slightly.

His forehead hovered mere inches away from John's and his hands moved back to the back of the chair to get a better hold on something. John looked up at him in wonder. How was it that a funny little army doctor got this? This hot, sexy mess that was the brilliant Sherlock Holmes. John could barely wrap his head around it.

"Jawwnn, what's wrong?" Sherlock groaned, not wavering in his movements.

"You just look like a proper whore, fucking yourself on my cock," John said, his mouth reacting before his brain did.

He really had no idea where some of this shit came from, but Sherlock smiled in response.

"Your whore," Sherlock whispered.

John squirmed underneath Sherlock, avoiding the burning gaze Sherlock was directing at him.

"Just mine?" John questioned hesitantly, still refusing to look the other man in the eyes.

"Yes," Sherlock said, pressing his forehead to John's, "Just yours. All yours. Only yours."

"Are you just saying that in the heat of the moment?" John probed.

He hated himself for ruining this moment with his pathetic emotions, but he had to know what it was they were doing. He needed to mentally prepare himself for whatever they were going to do. Sherlock slowed to a stop, whimpering slightly. He relaxed against John and put his lips to John's ear.

"John," Sherlock whispered in his beautiful silk voice, "I just want you. I've never wanted anyone so badly. I want everything about you. I want your voice, your touch, your grip, your orders, your tea, your blog, your silly nagging, your love, John. I want it. I need it. I need it so bad; worse than any drug I've ever taken. I don't know how long it's been that I needed it, but when you started taping my mouth…I just felt this spark inside me, this heat. Longing. Needing. Wanting. So if you're done with your little girly emotional moment, I'm going to continue."

John laughed and made a "Be my guest" gesture with his hands. Sherlock eagerly started back up again. Later on, long after they were both spent, John laid next Sherlock, staring groggily at the other man's sleeping face. He smiled lazily. Why had he ever been worried that this wouldn't work? Sure, it wasn't normal, but there was hardly anything normal when it came to Sherlock and John. And John found, as he drifted happily to sleep, he didn't mind in the least.

Little note: ( _ ) This chapter is like twice as long as the previous chapters. And it's the end. Hope you guys liked my kinky little story! ^_^ Love all of you cute little fuckers!