Chapter Twenty-Four: Pocketwatch

Warnings: Rimming, fingering, penetrative sex, bondage, slight d/s themes

Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait! My muse gets distracted by shiny things, so I had to lure him back into his cage with promises of cupcakes and sprinkles. He has a thing for sprinkles lately. So I just wrote this about twenty minutes ago and that's my excuse for if it totally sucks. Hopefully it doesn't.

Anywho, enjoy!

{Dreamer}

Text To: Lindsey Sullivan

From: Chloe Jade

OMFG IT'S TRUE! NEW SCOTLAND YARD REALLY STARTED A POOL ABOUT THAT CONSULTING DETECTIVE AND HIS BROTHER! I'm gonna go over there after my meeting at 3, want me to put a bet down for you?

The pocketwatch looked absolutely delicious hanging around Sherlock's neck. The time piece itself was nestled between his shoulder blades, and John admired how it caught the soft light spilling through the door from the bathroom as he pulled Sherlock's arms further back.

It was a beautiful thing, John had to admit; both the watch and Sherlock himself. The watch was made of a hunter-case that popped open to show smooth, scratch-free glass that covered the face of the watch itself. The Roman numerals were done in black, the watch hands slim and the ticking audible even over Sherlock's soft gasps.

The case was completely gold and shined to perfection, showing patterns that had been etched into both the lid and back. The chain matched and glinted whenever Sherlock shifted at the the right angle, and John often found himself staring at it a bit, just like the first time he'd ever set eyes on it. Of course, back then it had been hanging from Mycroft's waistcoat, and not wrapped around the younger Holmes' neck.

John had come home from a late shift at the surgery- and he was seriously considering quitting, what with all the cases they had coming in and the never ending questions about his sex life- to find Sherlock kneeling in the middle of their bed, completely naked, except for a time-piece hanging from his throat and cuffs wrapped around his wrists.

John had been out of his clothes and on the bed faster than he could blink.

And now he was just sitting and enjoying the moment, letting his fingers ghost over Sherlock's pale flesh, only occasionally scraping his nails hard enough for Sherlock to moan and wriggle about. He'd only spoken one word since John had entered the room; "please".

Sherlock's hands were bound behind his back by leather cuffs they'd bought a few weeks previously. Stolen police cuffs were good and all, but they were hell on the wrists and could cause a fair few injuries; the thick leather bands held together by a small chain were much better. John could pull harder, for one thing, and the way Sherlock's back arched, his head too, made John want to sink his teeth into the closest part he could.

But he paced himself by holding the chain tightly, ensuring that Sherlock couldn't squirm about too much. John pulled back slowly until Sherlock's head was resting against his shoulder and breathed in deeply as he nuzzled Sherlock's warm neck. John could smell sweat and soap, as well as the faintest hint of tobacco; Sherlock must have found his stash of cigarettes.

Ignoring his boyfriend's smoking habit for now, John licked a strip from Sherlock's collarbone, up his neck and across his Adam's apple, and along his jaw to his ear, where he bit the lobe between his teeth and dragged back. Sherlock shivered bodily against him and let out a breathy moan. His eyes were squeezed shut, fluttering behind his lids, and his hair was already sticking in sweaty curls to his forehead. His prick, which John was ignoring, was blood red and bobbing obscenely between his legs, the tip wet with pre-come.

John wondered just how long Sherlock had waited; if he'd fingered himself open with the bottle of lubricant sitting on the bedside table; if he'd wrapped his hand around himself and jacked off until he was close to coming; if he'd locked himself up and just kneeled, waiting, getting off on the thought of what John would do to him when he got home.

'Have you been naughty?' John hummed in Sherlock's ear.

Text To: Chloe Jade

From: Lindsey Sullivan

Shit, no way! Are you serious? Is this what cops these days get paid to do? Bet on some type of creepy sex war?

John tugged on the cuffs before dragging his free fingers down the wet strip he'd left on Sherlock's neck. He traced the chain of the pocketwatch, still wrapped firmly around Sherlock's throat, and tugged on that too. It had a little give and he hooked a finger under the gold, pulling again when Sherlock failed to answer.

'Uh...' Sherlock moaned and turned to face John as best he could. His breath blew across John's cheek as he said, 'What do you constitute as "naughty"?'

John chuckled soundlessly and fingered the chain as he spoke. 'Well... I see a bottle of lube,' he murmured. 'Did you use any of it?' Sherlock shook his head. 'Mm,' John licked his boyfriend's neck again before whispering in his ear, 'I'll have to check myself, won't I?'

He pushed Sherlock forward suddenly, but grabbed his shoulders firmly to keep Sherlock from falling face-first onto the bed. He still did, but lightly, and turned his head slowly as John worked behind him. John pulled Sherlock's legs apart inch by inch until his gorgeous arse was on display, and reached up to make sure the face of Mycroft's pocketwatch was still sitting on Sherlock's back.

'Let's see,' John hummed and leaned forward to peel Sherlock's cheeks apart.

The genius moaned as John blew across his small puckered entrance, and he shuffled on his knees a bit when John's index finger toyed with his hole.

He was dry, telling John he hadn't fingered himself open. John wet his lips and ducked down to lick across Sherlock's hole, enjoying the jolt of Sherlock's hips, and the surprised grunt that fell from his lips. He licked and suckled until drool was dripping down Sherlock's arse, the genius' hips thrusting into nothing as he tried to get friction against his cock, and more of John's tongue against his arse.

'Steady,' John murmured and rubbed Sherlock's thighs, his hips. Sherlock was being amazingly quiet, and John assumed that it was one of his "danger nights"; Sherlock's brain needed to shut up, and John was Sherlock's drug of choice. Well... John was completely okay with that.

Text To: Lindsey Sullivan

From: Chloe Jade

Don't be a party-pooper. Are you in or out? The choices are Johnlock or Mystrade or a tie.

He dove back in, shoving his tongue as far as he could into Sherlock's hole. He smiled slightly as, slowly but surely, Sherlock's muscles opened up under the onslaught. He was whimpering into one of the pillows, his fingers digging into his palms behind his back, and John rubbed his back soothingly as he continued to tongue Sherlock open.

John reached blindly for the lube as he pulled his tongue out, only to lick up and down Sherlock's crack. He nibbled and bit along Sherlock's right cheek, loving the soft flesh beneath his lips and between his teeth, as well as the grunts and louder moans the actions pulled from Sherlock.

With practised ease, John slicked up three of the fingers on his left hand and gave one last thrust with his tongue before pulling back. Before Sherlock could whine, John had slid his index finger in. It drew a hiss from both of them and Sherlock's muscles clamped around the intrusion, dragging along John's skin as the shorter man pulled out, only to push back in.

Sherlock began rocking against John's first finger, then his second and third, his moans getting louder and louder as the minutes passed. John could do nothing but watch, mesmerised by the effortless way Sherlock's body accepted his fingers. No matter how many times they did this- and no matter how loud, or soft, or loving or rough it was- John got the same thrill, the same electric shiver down his spine. Sherlock was his.

John finally pulled his fingers free and Sherlock whined when they weren't immediately replaced with John's cock. But John had other plans and his slick fingers tugged at the buckles of the leather cuffs keeping Sherlock's arms behind his back.

Sherlock moaned when he was freed and immediately rolled over, raising an eyebrow. 'What are you doing?' he demanded, even as he laid flat on his back and let his legs fall open.

'You tease,' John growled. He dropped the cuffs and leapt forward, crushing his mouth against Sherlock's. He twisted his dry hand through Sherlock's curls, tugging sharply until Sherlock arched beneath him, a moan dripping from the genius' lips only to be swallowed by John's.

When John finally let him go Sherlock was panting and his lips were pink and puffy. A flush had worked it's way up his face, and down his neck and chest. John traced one finger along Sherlock's collarbone before pinching first one nipple, then the other, enjoying the hiss of pleasure/pain Sherlock gave.

'I want you watching me as I fuck you,' John stated simply. If Sherlock needed to escape his manic brain, then making him focus on John was the best possible thing to do.

Sherlock just nodded, only wincing slightly when John forced the younger man's arms above his neck. He fiddled with the chain still around Sherlock's neck and eventually got it loose. Sherlock watched as John looped the chain around his wrists, not stopping until the watch-face dangled between them.

Text To: Chloe Jade

From: Lindsey Sullivan

Fine, fine. Put me down for Johnlock. That's the one with Sherlock Holmes, right?

'Much better,' John said and offered Sherlock a grin. 'Do you think I can fuck you without you breaking the chain?'

Sherlock smirked and shrugged one shoulder. He rested his arms against the headboard and said, 'We'll have to see, won't we?'

John laughed and grabbed the lube, pouring a descent amount onto his palm. He warmed the gel between his hands and made a show of slicking himself up; he tugged loosely at his cock with one hand, his balls with another, and bit his lip as he held back a moan and closed his eyes. He sped up his left hand only slightly, making sure to rub the gel all over his aching erection. He shuffled between Sherlock's legs as he did, and almost immediately Sherlock's thighs were wrapped around him, locking John in place.

'Impatient,' John murmured and peeled one eye open as he squeezed the head of his cock.

Sherlock whimpered, watching pre-come dribble from the slit of John's dick. 'Hurry up,' he moaned and thrust his head back, his hips up, his thighs squeezing more firmly than before.

Finally John could take no more and he wiped his hands on the sheets- he'd have to wash them anyway- before grabbing Sherlock's hip with one hand and moving forward. He curled his fingers around his cock and nudged the tip against Sherlock's stretched entrance, his eyes completely trained on the part where his and Sherlock's bodies met.

He went slowly, methodically, causing Sherlock to be torn between whimpering in pleasure and groaning in frustration. If Sherlock had wanted a hard fuck- truly wanted one- he would have just jumped John when he got home. He wouldn't have been waiting, his hands cuffed, for John to do whatever he fancied.

So John rocked in and out slowly, inch by inch, until he finally bottomed out. The doctor paused to breathe deeply, trying not to just start fucking Sherlock like a man possessed. He didn't move until Sherlock started whimpering again and dug his heels into John's arse.

John established a slow, easy rhythm at first, only pulling half his cock out before slipping back in. Sherlock's muscles clenched around him every third or so thrust, and Sherlock soon became impatient; he squeezed his muscles tightly and pushed up, trying to drag John deeper in. When John's hips faltered Sherlock's legs tightened around him and the brunet leaned up as best he could.

'Fuck me!' he hissed.

Text To: Lindsey Sullivan

From: Chloe Jade

YES, that's who I'm going for! Okay, I'll head over after my meeting tomorrow. Talk soon xx

John groaned and shook his head. 'Wanna make it last,' he bit out.

Sherlock growled and somehow managed to get his teeth into John's bottom lip. He bit harshly, making John yelp and thrust into his boyfriend's body hard. His cock hit Sherlock's prostate and the consulting detective dropped back with a rough moan.

'More,' he ordered. 'Please, John! Fuck me!'

John looked down at his partner; at his bright pink face and chest, at his already sweat-slicked neck, at the love-bite John had left just above his collarbone. Sherlock's prick was leaking copiously against his stomach, and John growled.

'Fine.'

Sherlock opened his eyes just in time to see John pull out almost all the way before jamming himself back in. His yelp turned into a moan, then another, as John pounded into him. Sherlock's hands smacked against the headboard, and the pocketwatch swung wildly as Sherlock's body was pushed deeply into the mattress again and again. Sherlock felt wonderfully full and his muscles burned as John's cock stretched him, slamming against his prostate again and again and again.

'Fuck, John!' he cried out when John's arms lifted his legs until they were hooked over the smaller man's shoulders. He bent Sherlock nearly in two, opening Sherlock up and letting himself slide deeper and deeper in.

Sherlock tossed his head back and moaned almost constantly, mostly curses with John's name choked out in-between. John panted heavily above him, his balls slapping against Sherlock's arse, and he only stopped once- which made Sherlock swear that he'd murder him- to apply more lube before fucking right back into Sherlock's body.

John could feel his balls drawing up, and his orgasm was rushing towards him. Fuck Sherlock and his fucking need to be... well, fucked. John cursed and dropped one of Sherlock's legs so he could wrap his hand around the genius' cock.

Sherlock jolted and moaned. He opened his leg wider to give John more access, and rolled his hips up as best he could. 'Yes, John,' he grunted as the slick sound of John jerking him off filled their ears. 'Harder!' he begged.

John did just that; the bed shook with their fucking, the sounds of sex shooting straight to John's cock, and Sherlock's muscles fluttered and grew tighter and tighter the harder John slammed into him. Too soon, in John's opinion, Sherlock climaxed between them, ropes of come landing messily over his stomach and John's hand.

John managed a few more thrusts before coming himself, his hips bumping against Sherlock's arse as the brunet's muscles milked his cock, his hand doing the same to Sherlock's own erection.

Text To: Lily "Sunshine" Hooper

From: Emerald Westings

Fine, you talked me into it; put me down for Mystrade. And stop changing your contact name! I had no idea who "Queen Sugarplum of the BBC" was until Alex texted me!

Suddenly Sherlock's leg fell from John's shoulder and he groaned, shuddering when John drew the last drip of semen from his length. John removed his hand slowly and reached for the tissues, wanting clean up before he passed out.

Because he was definitely going to; he felt all gooey and dopey, in the way that only fantastic sex could make you feel, and he knew that as soon as he laid down and rested his aching legs and shoulder he'd more or less pass out.

He mopped up the mess on Sherlock's stomach, and the come dribbling from his arse, as best he could before flopping onto his back. There was silence until Sherlock cleared his throat and said, rather hoarsely, 'Can you free my hands?'

John peeled one eye open and smirked at him. 'Can't do it yourself, Mr Consulting Detective?'

Sherlock cursed and John chuckled. In less than twenty seconds Sherlock had dropped the pocketwatch onto John's chest and curled around him, their legs tangled together, the duvet nice and cold beneath them.

Text To: The Shiny Emerald Westings

From: Lily "Sunshine" Hooper

Aww, you know you love it ;) I'll let Molly know you're in.

'You know, even after all the crap he's done, I kind of feel bad for Mycroft,' John murmured.

'Mm?' Sherlock hummed against his neck. 'Why is that?'

'Well, he always wears this pocketwatch,' John said. 'It must be important to him.' Sherlock snorted and the doctor sighed. 'Alright, Mr Know-It-All; what'd I get wrong?'

'This isn't the pocketwatch Mycroft always wears,' Sherlock informed him. 'That one has an engraving on the back: "For MH, with all my love, GL". That pocketwatch is one that Lestrade bought for my brother on their one-year anniversary.'

'Right...' John mused. 'So what's this one, then?' he asked and fingered the chain.

'It was our father's,' Sherlock informed him. 'It was left to Mycroft in Father's will. Mycroft has always hated the thing; it brings back memories of missed birthdays, ignored conversations, and resentment. Neither of us were close to our father, and Mycroft only took the pocketwatch when Mummy insisted. He keeps it in his bedroom, locked in a box.'

'So... he won't care, then?' John asked.

'He will care that I stole something of his and used it as bondage during sex,' Sherlock smirked. 'But no, it won't hurt too badly.' Sherlock shifted about until he was leaning on one elbow and looking down at John. 'Not even I'm cruel enough to take something that my brother loves with all his heart. I would never ruin the pocketwatch Gregory bought him; Mycroft cherishes it.'

John blinked slowly at him, and Sherlock didn't move until the older man had nodded. John wrapped an arm around his boyfriend and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's mop of sweaty curls. He knew that Mycroft and Sherlock loved each other, but it was still nice to see evidence every now and then.

'He'll still be annoyed, though?' John prompted, and Sherlock nodded against his chest.

'But of course,' he smirked; John could tell. 'No doubt he'll break in sometime this week for revenge.'

John sighed and closed his eyes. 'This sex war will be the death of me.'

'We have to win, John,' Sherlock stated.

John shook his head, murmured, 'Whatever,' and let himself sink into the sheets. He'd worry about Mycroft's revenge when he wasn't wiped out from a lovely round of sex.

{oOo}

Text To: Sally Donovan

From: Deb Roberts

I've decided I'll go for Johnlock. Lestrade's nice and all, but Sherlock Holmes is... well, weird. And his doctor is, too. They'll definitely win.

Mycroft pressed his palms together and rested his fingers against his chin, tapping his index fingers together beneath his nose as he stared at the wooden box. Sherlock had once again broken into his flat- and Mycroft was going to have a serious talk with his security detail when he was done- and had stolen their father's pocketwatch.

Not that Mycroft cared, in all honesty. He detested the thing. It was the principle of the thing that mattered to Mycroft. Also, the flecks of white that had crusted between the lid and watch-face was something Mycroft could have lived without seeing.

He could only imagine what his little brother had got up to with his favourite doctor (multiple times, Mycroft could tell), and it was enough to have the elder Holmes wrinkling his nose and shaking his head to clear the images away. A nice tumbler of scotch would go done nicely right about now, but he was meeting Gregory for dinner and didn't want to end up drunk and bemoaning his baby brother all night long.

So instead he rolled his head, shut the box with a sharp snap, and pushed the thing across the wooden table. He'd have Anthea clean it tomorrow. Despite how much Mycroft hated the pocketwatch- and the memories the time-piece always invoked- he didn't have the heart to toss the thing away. Mummy would no doubt find out and be heart-broken.

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his eyes before going to the fridge. Maybe water would help calm him down.

Text To: Deb Roberts

From: Sally Donovan

There are way too many of you Johnlockers. Mystrade will win. British Government, Deb! But, fine; if you wanna lose money, be my guest :)

As Mycroft sipped from his bottle, his mind started forming a revenge plan; he wouldn't let Sherlock get away with using anything he owned in some weird sex game with John Watson.

Mycroft smiled as an image of Gregory, hands tied above his head, swam into his mind... there was a certain piece of blue fabric he could use to restrain his partner.