The taxi ride home was a nightmare. Sherlock claimed they were only stopping by to pick something up from the flat, before they went in pursuit of the Adler woman. But John knew better. He knew from the impatient twitching in Sherlock's legs, his deep and rolling nervous laughter, the way his eyes flickered uninterestedly around as he tried to distract himself. And the slightly crumpled clothes he was now wearing, after a subtle nod of consent from John at the palace, seemed to be even tighter than usual. Their legs pressed up against each other, John put a firm hand on Sherlock's thigh to stop the movement, only to find his fingers itching to steal its way further up, to stroke and expose the bulge of the detective's hard and eager cock from beneath his ill-fitting trousers.

The car had barely rolled to a halt outside 221B before Sherlock leapt out without a backwards glance, flinging the door open and almost knocking over a passer-by in his haste to get to the front door. The doctor grinned, and calmly paid the cabbie, thanking him and stepping out onto the street. He made his steady way to the front door, and walked up the stairs, taking him time and trying to listen to the detective's movements from the landing.

Entering the living room, he smirked as he watched Sherlock's disastrous attempt at nonchalance. The detective was sitting on the sofa, drumming his fingers on the armrest, his leg twitching up and down and he was very pointedly ignoring John's existence. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright, his breathing still a little hitched from his speedy ascent up the stairs. His legs were crossed in an attempt to disguise his arousal, and he had an air about him of someone who was trying a little too hard to be bored. He had already removed his shoes, and one lay discarded by the door, while the other was somewhere underneath the coffee table.

The doctor decided that subtlety was not an option, and went for the jugular.

"Ok, so you went to Buckingham Palace in nothing but a sheet, and spent the whole taxi ride here with your legs spread, but the second we get up here, you're not interested?"

Sherlock looked mildly uncomfortable, and shrugged. John rolled his eyes. Toeing off his own shoes, he wandered over to where the detective sat and leaned over him, trailing a hand up Sherlock's shirt-clad chest.

Sherlock automatically leaned into his touch, his unforgivably tight shirt threatening to split at its taut seams as he arched into John's fingertips. The doctor ran his other hand along Sherlock's thigh, feeling the convulsions of the detective's muscles as he alternately fought to keep his legs crossed, or spread them. John growled at Sherlock's resistance and forced his hand between the gap in the detective's legs, pushing his palm against Sherlock's crotch until he untangled his long legs from one another and spread them, wide enough that his cock strained against the fabric of his trousers. The friction of John's hand rubbing against him was enough to make him a whimper a little, grinding upwards to maintain a decent amount of pressure. John moved his hand back an inch, and Sherlock followed, his hips thrusting up and off of the couch almost completely, seemingly unaware of his own obvious desperation.

John smiled and pulled his hand back even further, relishing Sherlock's whine of frustration as his sought- after pressure was lost again.

"Look at you" said the doctor as Sherlock physically pulled John's hand back towards himself. "You're not so great at maintaining the whole hard-to-get act, are you?"

Sherlock made a noise somewhere between a growl and a whimper, but said nothing else, his face contorted with concentration as he palmed himself off on John's hand.

The hand on Sherlock's chest felt through the fabric for a sensitive nipple, and pinched, whilst the other pushed right up against Sherlock crotch, applying a little too much pressure for it to be entirely pleasurable. John loved feeling Sherlock squirm underneath him, trying to find the right angle to thrust into his hand without unwittingly pushing his nipples further into John's painful grasp.

"I can't believe how good you were, Sherlock" John murmured, his lustful eyes travelling down the detective's body, drinking in the squirming mess that sat before him.

"You obeyed me like I asked, didn't you?" Sherlock nodded frantically, his own hands reaching up to grasp the wrist of the hand which was playing with his nipples, not even sure himself if he was trying to prise those fingers off or make them pinch harder.

"So I suppose," John continued, "I suppose you deserve your reward, don't you?"

Sherlock nodded again, but this apparently, was no longer a satisfactory reply.

"Oh, you don't want it then?" the doctor said, his tone teasing and playful as he continued to push his palms right up against Sherlock's body, pretending to be blind to his obvious gestures of ascent.

Sherlock's eyes flew open. "No!" he said desperately, staring at John like he thought him a madman. "No, I do, I want it. Please..."

In one swift movement, John released Sherlock from his grasp, and tore the rather hard-working shirt right down the detective's chest, the buttons snapping off easily after months of long-suffering service. Sherlock gasped at the sound and feel of the fabric tearing, and allowed the torn shirt to be yanked down over his shoulders and wrists, before it was flung onto the floor without ceremony. John's hand was suddenly on the back of his neck, pulling him forward as the doctor's lips captured his in a forceful, possessive kiss, that was only broken for a moment whilst John pulled his own shirt up and off of his body, exposing his broad chest. Their lips crashed together again, the doctor's tongue licking a wet line across Sherlock's lips before pushing between his teeth, exploring every inch of the detective's mouth. His free hand slid around Sherlock's waist and lifted him, pushing them both onto the floor, remnants of tangled jumpers still scattered across the floorboards.

John's eager mouth moved down to Sherlock's slender neck, biting and sucking red-blue bruises onto the delicately pale flesh. He licked a long line across the detective's prominent collarbone, growling with lust as this drew a moan of want from the man beneath him. His hands teased and pinched at Sherlock's nipples, forcing the detective's back right off of the floor. John sucked and licked wet trails along the sore, reddened flesh, and then bit down suddenly, grasping Sherlock's hip to keep him from bucking him off.

Sherlock swore and hissed through his teeth at the stinging contact, John's mouth feeling too hot around his tortured nipples. His whole body felt on fire, tingling and buzzing as he allowed John to play with every inch of his supple flesh.

The doctor sat up, and undid Sherlock's belt, unbuttoning his fly and pulling the detective's hips up so as to slide the fabric down and off of Sherlock's legs before casting them aside. He slid his fingers underneath the waistband of Sherlock's underwear, grinning as the man pushed his hips up again to make them easier to discard. He slid the garment slowly and carefully down over the detective's hips, enjoying Sherlock's groan as his hard and aching cock was finally released from the constrictions of his underwear. He slid them off completely, before standing up.

"Turn over." He commanded, loving the look of lust that swept over Sherlock's bright eyes as he revelled in the firmness of John's tone. "I want you on all fours."

And Sherlock moved slowly to comply; John removed the remainder of his own clothes before kneeling back down to where Sherlock was positioned. The detective gasped and moaned as John's lips attached themselves to his sensitive shoulder blades. John laid kisses all the way down Sherlock's long back, paying special attention to the dip where his spine arched.

"Spread your legs wider, Sherlock". The detective inched his thighs apart, the blush along his cheekbones rising as he became more exposed. A sharp slap landed on the inside of both thighs, and he yelped as the sensitive flesh stung and grew hot where John's hand had landed.

"Wider." The growling command almost sent Sherlock over the edge, and he spread his stinging thighs as wide as possible. There was a moment's pause where he heard John shifting behind him, before he felt a hand on each arse cheek, spreading him wide, and then -

Sherlock could do nothing but gasp for air as he felt John lick a hot, wet line right along his entrance, lapping at the highly sensitive flesh in long, bold strokes. The detective's entire body shuddered and shook at the incredible sensation, and the outer ring of muscle relaxed at John's persistent licking, allowing his tongue to slowly slip inside. Sherlock was unable to control himself as he pushed further against John, his head feeling light and airy and his legs shaking with pleasure. His cock was throbbing now, pre-cum seeping from the head and trailing against his thighs. He just needed-

"John" he groaned. "Uh, God, please John, I need more."

The doctor's tongue pushed further inside him, opening him up wider, swirling expertly around and along the ring of muscle to relax it, delving in and out and licking at a maddening pace.

"John!" Sherlock's shoulders were almost giving in, and sweat was sliding off of his toned and muscular back. John immediately kneeled up and pushed the head of his pulsing cock into Sherlock's wet and gaping entrance, slowly but firmly pressing himself inside of the detective.

Sherlock's words seemed to get stuck in his chest, as the blunt head of John's cock breached his entrance, filling him up. Sherlock shifted slightly to accommodate John's length, and there was a moment of silence as both men were made breathless by the intimacy of the act. Then, Sherlock felt the sliding of John's cock almost pulling out, before the doctor's hips slammed back into him, forcing him forward. Sherlock gasped and cried out, his whole body aching with need as John fucked him, his thick cock sliding in and out, and his firm hands grasping Sherlock's slight hips with bruising force. He felt John shift a little behind him, changing angle before thrusting again, his cock grazing right against Sherlock's prostate.

The detective yelped as his nerves tingled and stood on end. John growled and thrust harder, his hip bucking and slamming against Sherlock uncontrollably as he felt Sherlock tense up against him and shake as his orgasm took hold. It only took a few more thrusts until John came, the thick warm fluid spilling inside Sherlock and filling him up, whilst the detective slumped against the floor, his chest and the wooden floor both sticky and sated with semen.

His legs still shaking, Sherlock panted heavily as he turned to face John, who was looking at him with glazed eyes.

"What?" he said, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to John's lips, not even bothering to try and see if he was able to stand up yet. "Why are you staring at me?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm not." He said, his breathing still heavy and uneven. "I was just thinking, we should play this game more often."

"Is that so?" Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "Why do you say that?"

John grinned. "Because the well-fucked look suits you rather well."