Hello! Sorry it's been a while. This is only really a filler chapter-the good stuff you're here for will be in the next one!


Jodie and Dean let themselves in as soon as the door was opened for them. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at them, muttering a 'no, please-make yourselves at home.'.

'Where are we?' Dean asked. Sherlock nodded towards the living-room and the three of them walked inside it, closing the door behind them. Jodie looked around, nodding to herself.

'Nice place.' She said, unbuttoning her trench coat to reveal a stupidly short skirt and top, showing off her stomach.

Dean flopped down onto the sofa. 'I'm exhausted.'

'Me too.' Jodie said, sitting down next to him.

Sherlock leaned against the wall, arms crossed. 'Are you just going to sit there for the entire evening?'

'Give us time to rest-we've already been called to somewhere else as well.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes and crossed over to the kitchen. After a few moments he returned with two cups of coffee, handing it to the two newcomers. 'Get your energy back.'

Dean swallowed down half of the contents and then gagged. 'Christ, what kind of coffee is that?!'

'Strong coffee.'

'You're telling me-my head feels like it's about to blow up!'

Jodie sniffed the dark liquid, poking her tongue out to taste the most minuscule amount possible. 'It's not so bad.'

'Yeah, because you've barely tasted it.' Dean pressed.

Sherlock sat down in-between them, tapping out an impatient rhythm against his leg. 'Can we do something now?'

'Yeah, yeah.' Jodie said, gulping as much coffee as she could cope, before setting the mug on the floor.

Dean did the same. He rested a hand over the detectives knee. 'So.' He smiled at him. 'What have you got planned for us?'

Sherlock tilted his head at him. 'I'm sure we can think of something.' He said, wrapping his arms around both of them.

Jodie ran her thumb over Sherlocks bottom lip and kissed his cheek. 'You're obsessed, aren't you?'

'With what?'

'With sex. You just can't get enough of it, can you?' Dean continued, and starting playing with one of Sherlock's hands.

'Is that such a problem?'

'Absolutely not.' Dean murmured, kissing each digit in turn. Jodie's hand had moved to his throat, trickling her finger-nails up and down it.

And then John walked into the room.

He took one look at them and started to walk straight back out again. 'Right then.'

'John.' Sherlock said. John stood still, his back to them. 'Please, stay.'

'Why?!'

'I need you to get something for me.'

John turned back round and glared at Dean. 'Oh. It's you again.'

'Hello to you too.' Dean said smarmily, paying more attention on tapping his fingers over Sherlocks thigh.

'Now, now.' Sherlock said to John, 'be nice to your guests.'

'Your guests.'

'They're not my guests.' Sherlock looked at both of them up and down. 'They're my pets.'

John frowned. 'Excuse me?'

'Maybe I should have them on a leash.'

'I'd like that.' Jodie muttered, running a hand over his chest.

'I know you would.'

'Why am I here?' John said quickly. 'What do you want?'

Sherlock carried on looking at his "pets" whilst talking to the doctor. 'My riding-crop is on the table.'

John laughed without humour. 'No.'

'Yes.'

'We've already agreed that-'

'I never agreed to anything. You know better than to get into a debate with me-you'll never win.'

Jodie laughed nervously as Johns ears turned pink. He shuffled over to the table and snatched up the damn riding-crop. He turned back round and waved it at Sherlock's face. 'Take it.' Sherlock stayed completely still, besides his mouth purposefully falling open. John sighed inwardly. 'You can't be serious.' The detective raised both eyebrows expectantly. 'I won't do it, so just take the bloody thing properly.' Sherlock's mouth didn't move, his foot running up John's leg. John snarled to himself and placed the riding-crop between Sherlock's teeth. Sherlock took it out of his mouth, grinning. 'Thank-you, captain.'

'Can I go now?'

'Of course. Unless you're thinking of watching.'

John stormed out of the room without answering, while Sherlock turned back to Jodie. Next to him, Jodie hand had snuck underneath Sherlock's jacket and Dean's hand slid further across the detectives inner thigh. Sherlock leaned back in his seat and ran the riding-crop under Deans chin. 'Now.' He murmured. 'Bedroom?'