This story will include naughty slash fun, Sherlock seducing John in a very non seducing way, mind games that the two love to play, riding crop kinks, John losing his mind as his often does, romance from John mostly and more naughty bits; and somehow I'm going to put that all together so bare with me please.

For months John had been trying to get Sherlock tell him what it was that made him decide to change their relationship from flat mates to lovers. It wasn't gradual, John knew that much. Something specific had happened that made Sherlock want to, as he so romantically put it once, engage in sexual activity with John, but he refused to say what it was.

Asking, pleading, even begging didn't work. Sherlock wouldn't give up this secret. John understood it was just another of his partner's games, trying to see what John could come up with to make him tell. He had been trying to tease, taunt, and even withhold but Sherlock wasn't giving up that easy.

But after some recent events John figured out how to get Sherlock to tell him anything and everything he wanted to know.

Not too long ago they had discovered the joys of a new toy, the riding crop. Compared to Sherlock's arsenal of ways to get John worked up when he wasn't in the mood, John's list seemed relatively small but the one guarantee was the whip. Sherlock would sometimes get a little wild at just the idea of it. He loved what it did to himself and oh god did John love what it did to Sherlock, even more so after he explained what it really did.

John had decided to use this new toy as his leverage to get Sherlock to talk.

Now now, not like that, he had something else in mind.

That particular morning John was sitting at the desk working on his laptop.

Sherlock was in their bedroom, getting ready to go out. He was taking Mrs. Hudson to the bank to straighten out some misunderstanding. No matter how many times John asked, Sherlock refused to promise not to reduce the bank teller to tears for upsetting her.

Sherlock came out of their room, sat on the couch and started playing with his phone. He made no indication of seeing the riding crop, which happened to be lying next to John's laptop. The detective would have seen the thing as soon as he walked into the room but he showed no signs, just focusing on his phone. However John knew he understood the promise of a thrilling afternoon when he returned home. He would be looking forward to getting back to the flat as soon as possible.

But John didn't want him to be looking forward to his return home, he wanted Sherlock a little wild.

John continued to focus on his laptop not acknowledging that Sherlock had come in the room. Then, almost as if he were unconsciously stirring a cup of tea, he started running a finger over the handle of the riding crop.

His phone hummed alerting him to a text message.

That's not very subtle

"Who says I was trying to be?" Still keeping his eyes off his partner, he started dragging his finger nail down the handle.

That wont work on me.

John didn't reply and began running his finger down the length of the whip.

Still not working

He continued to run his finger down to the tip of the riding crop.

I have to leave in 2 mins

"Yes, I know." His fingers pinched at the end. Without looking up he spread his lips into a mischievous grin.

dont you dare

But John dared. Having learned from the best, he closed his eyes and let out heavy breath.

He heard Sherlock shift on the couch, no new text appeared.

Then the finishing touch. Closing his eyes tighter he wordlessly called out 'oh god...harder', bit down on his lower lip and flinched from the phantom strike.

A low growl filled the room.

He then looked back at his laptop like nothing had happened and said "Mrs. Hudson is probably waiting for you."

He couldn't look up, he would have started laughing, but he heard Sherlock say some very ungentlemenlike words under his breathe. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sherlock get up with a small effort, take a little too long to put on his coat and attempt to adjust himself; then he stormed out without saying a word.

A few seconds later he received one last text.

YOU WILL REGRET THAT!

And there was wild.

He had come up with the perfect hiding spot last night. Sherlock can read just about everything on his face now, but he wouldn't read this. He figured he had about a month before Sherlock found the whip on his own.

Less than an hour later Sherlock returned home, loudly making his intentions clear as he barreled up the stairs. John didn't get a chance to even say hello when Sherlock pulled him into the bedroom.

They got a little frisky, got a little undressed, then Sherlock darted out of the room to get his favorite toy. After an agonizing minute while John tried not to giggle, Sherlock returned. His expression a mixture of deadly and amused.

"John, where did you put it?"

Using another trick he had learned from the detective. John looked completely innocent, the 'I have no idea what you're referring to' look and gave his best Sherlock impression,"Hmm?"

Sherlock seemed to know immediately then that John was playing at something devious. His lips drew into an insidious grin making it clear he would play along and that he would indeed make John regret this. He jumped back into bed and proceed to show John just how much it didn't bother him that John had hid the riding crop.

It took two days for him to finally mention it. Three more days for him to beg John to stop this game. And two more days for him to agree to tell John what it was that changed things in Sherlock's mind about their relationship, which of course had led to the seven most confusing weeks of John's life.

And it was simply, John had forgotten to do his laundry.