Abort operation. Case closed. Marks in custody. JW
Sherlock’s mobile pinged with the text from John, followed in a few minutes by two more.
Ran into Sarah, taking her back to the hotel room. JW
DO NOT be there. JW
Sherlock glared at the texts, supremely disappointed that the trap they had set for the counterfeiter George Marks would now go to waste. And to think, Sherlock had spent all that time renting the adjoining hotel room, picking the lock on the connecting door, and setting up surveillance equipment. John was blindly confident about his ability to face Marks one on one and pull off the con, but Sherlock doubted John’s acting abilities would actually hold up to the task.
So, after John had left, Sherlock had installed the small camera and microphone and sat with his laptop and headset in the adjoining room, all without John’s knowledge, waiting to come to the rescue. He would earn himself at least a “brilliant” from John, maybe even in the heat and rush of the moment their lips would meet like they had that other time. Sherlock reddened slightly at the thought, more because of how frequently he thought about it, analyzed it, got aroused by it, played it over in his mind, than any embarrassment from the act itself.
Now Sherlock’s slim fingers were rapidly tapping out text messages on his mobile, busily insisting more information from both John and Lestrade. Only Lestrade was responding. It seemed that Marks was indeed in custody, all the appropriate evidence against him acquired, and the case was solved. How boring.
Sherlock sighed and stretched himself out along the hotel bed, texting John for the fourth time demanding how he had seemed to wrap things up so neatly. Still John didn’t respond, and Sherlock was starting to feel rather cross about the whole situation. His evening was soundly ruined not only by John’s proactive case solving, but also the stab of jealousy that it would be Sarah, not him to revel in John’s post-case high.
He was just about to pack away his headphones and laptop when he heard a door open and John’s distinctive chuckle. Sherlock could picture every detail of John’s grin as his laughter filtered in through the headphones. Sherlock loved to make john grin like that.
“You know … you know this is just tonight right? I mean …” Sarah’s voice came through clearly on the headphones.
“Yeah of course. Of course. It’s fine.” John said through a forced smile. Sherlock liked Sarah even less now, which was really something of an achievement.
Sherlock heard them kissing, all soft sighs and dull wet noises, but as they hadn’t made it past the small entryway to the hotel room, he couldn’t yet see the couple. He had managed to hide the camera up in the curtain rod, giving him a good overview of the entire room, minus the bathroom and short entryway.
Next came a rustle of clothing, coats being shed and shoes toed off, and then John appeared on the laptop screen, pulling Sarah into the room by her hand. Until that moment this had just been simple eavesdropping, but now that Sherlock could clearly see John (handsome, fascinating John), and Sarah (boring, clearly not right for John in the least), he had a brief crisis of conscience.
Sherlock’s curiosity won the relatively easy battle against the moral implications of spying on John. After all, he could easily delete the video and John would be none the wiser. Sherlock settled in on the hotel bed to watch.
The video was black and white, slightly grainy, but not terrible given the size of the hidden camera. He could clearly see John in a well-fitted suit that had been his disguise for what was supposed to be their trap, and Sarah in a tight dress, showing off her arms and cleavage. Clearly she had been out looking for something just like this when she had unexpectedly run into John.
John and Sarah were embracing now, lips locked together and hands wandering over each others bodies. John had turned Sarah so that her back was to both the bed and the hidden camera, his hands roaming over her. He began to kiss down her neck into the crook of her shoulder, giving Sherlock a relatively clear view of John’s face, especially when John pulled Sarah into a tight hug, resting his chin on her shoulder.
Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat, and his heart stopped briefly as John seemed to stare directly into the lens of the camera - right at Sherlock through the laptop screen. “No,” Sherlock thought, “there’s no way that John can see it. No way he knows the camera’s there.” Sherlock’s heart resumed beating, although at an elevated rate when John began his attentions on Sarah’s neck again, eliciting soft moans from her.
Sherlock watched intently, wondering if John would look into the camera again, or if it was just a startling coincidence. Surely John wouldn’t continue if he knew about the camera? Even if he doubted Sherlock was actively watching from the next room, John’s sense of propriety wouldn’t allow such intimacy to filmed, right?
Sherlock’s mind churned, searching for any evidence that one John Watson had any exhibitionist tendencies. It all came up blank, and up until that one moment, Sherlock had thought John’s proclivities to be utterly normal for a mostly heterosexual man. Sure he had a dominant streak that hadn’t escaped Sherlock’s notice, and there had been that kiss that they had never spoken of, but other than that there was nothing. Likely John had chalked up the kiss as a momentary lapse in judgement, misplaced excitement after a thrilling chase, and although that fact disappointed Sherlock, that it had happened at all had been enough to sustain him.
John’s suit jacket was on the floor now, his tie pulled off, and Sarah was working on his shirt buttons, planting kisses along his neck and collarbones. Then it happened again. As Sarah bent to place a kiss on John’s chest, his eyes locked with the camera and Sherlock could just make out a vague smirk on John’s face as he twined his fingers into Sarah’s hair.
Sherlock bent his knees up into himself, his breath now permanently caught, and his heart beating wildly against his ribcage. He couldn’t stop watching, nor could he stop his thoughts from screaming out about how he wished it was him with John. He briefly considered barging into the next room, but no, that kind of intrusion would likely only infuriate John.
John, now bare from the waist up, had Sarah with her back to him, both facing the camera as John slid his hand into the front of her dress, his other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tightly into him. John was kissing and nibbling on her neck as he fondled her breasts inside her dress. Sarah’s head lolled to the side to allow him access, and let out a series of moans.
John undid the zip on the back of Sarah’s dress, pushing it off her shoulders and letting it puddle around her feet, revealing her presumably black pants and bra, although on the black and white video streaming on the laptop, they were just as likely to be red. John’s hand slipped inside the pants, regardless of their colour, and Sherlock heard him groan into Sarah’s neck. Hearing that groan made Sherlock’s spine tingle.
Sarah writhed against John, her head falling back on his shoulder as John’s hands explored her body. Evidently he was doing a good job of it judging from the plentiful sighs and short moans that Sarah was making.
Sherlock watched John’s hand move rhythmically under the fabric of Sarah’s pants. He watched as John’s other hand pulled down the cups of her bra, revealing the dark patches of her nipples that John proceeded to pay special attention to. He listened to Sarah’s pleased noises and watched John lick and kiss all along her neck and shoulders. He watched and listened with a growing jealousy and a niggling suspicion that John did indeed know about the camera, yet was proceeding anyway. Not even Sherlock could establish a reason for this though.
John removed his hand from Sarah’s pants, but let it linger on her hip as his other hand slid down to grip the opposite side. John pulled Sarah’s hips back into what Sherlock presumed was his growing erection based on John’s deep groan which made Sherlock’s own cock twitch inside his trousers. John then pushed Sarah’s knickers down her thighs to join her dress on the floor. Her bra was next, and once Sarah was completely naked, John wrapped his hands around her waist and guided her up onto the hotel bed.
Sarah eased herself back onto the pillows and John climbed up between her legs, planting his hands on either side of her head and dipping down to kiss her mouth. From this angle Sherlock could see the tautness in John’s back and shoulders - he could see the strength in them and the dark patch of uneven flesh marking his left shoulder.
The contrast of Sarah’s white legs bordering John’s black trousers was the most obscene part of this view, and with the rest of Sarah’s body obscured by John’s solid build, it was easy for Sherlock to put himself in her place. Sherlock bit back a moan as he imagined John poised over him like that, his own pale legs on either side of those dark trousers. Sarah chose just that moment to ruin Sherlock’s fantasy by wrapping her slim arms up around John’s back. Sherlock scowled at the laptop.
Sarah caressed John’s naked back and shoulders as he moved down her body, planting kisses, stopping to lick and suck on her nipples which elicited some high pitched moans from Sarah. She raked her fingers through John’s cropped hair, encouraging his downward trajectory. John made his way down over her stomach and hips until his head was between Sarah’s thighs and she pressed her head back into the pillows as John put his tongue to work.
All Sherlock could see was Sarah squirming, and her hands clutching the sheets on either side of her as John’s head bobbed slightly between her spread legs. She tossed her head back and forth and made a number of unintelligible moans while John held her thighs firmly. John continued until Sarah was panting and dishevelled, at which point he made his way back up her body to her mouth.
Sherlock listened as John huskily breathed “I want to fuck you from behind” in Sarah’s ear before he climbed off the bed. Again, Sherlock barely suppressed a groan on hearing John’s voice. John stood in full view of the camera as he unbuckled his belt, undid the button and zip on his trousers and pushed them off his hips. Sherlock licked his lips and shifted on his bed, eyes fixed on the black and white image on the laptop screen. John’s erection was clearly outlined in his tight pants (even over the imperfect video stream) and Sherlock stared, transfixed.
John hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, stretching the elastic out as he pulled them off, freeing his sizeable erection. Sherlock bit back a groan, still afraid his voice would carry to the next room, and shifted again on the hotel bed, unable to get comfortable - especially with his erection straining and desperately hard inside his trousers. Sherlock refused to touch himself, not because he didn’t want to, but because if John found out about the camera, Sherlock at least didn’t want to have to lie about what he was doing while he watched.
John’s heavy cock bobbed as he made his way back up onto the bed and Sherlock realized he had ceased breathing some time ago. He released the stale air in his lungs as he watched John position Sarah on all fours on the bed and knelt behind her. Sarah buried her face in the pillows as John fondled her arse, making an appreciative moan and giving his cock a few tugs.
John held on to Sarah’s hip with one hand as he guided himself inside her with the other. Sarah let out a long, muffled moan, and John took a sharp, hissed intake of breath as he sheathed himself inside her. John held still for a moment, gripping her hips and undoubtedly enjoying the heat and snugness around him before he began to move his hips.
John fucked Sarah slowly at first, nearly pulling himself entirely out of her before gliding fully back inside and unwittingly driving Sherlock entirely mad in the next room. Sarah squirmed and moaned, and John was starting to breathe heavily. Sherlock watched and listened intently. It had been some time since John had looked directly into the camera and Sherlock wasn’t entirely sure whether he wanted the first two instances to be strange coincidence, or if he was wishing for confirmation of his suspicions.
On the screen John continued to thrust away into Sarah, deliberately adding speed and strength with each advance. Along with his ragged breaths, John was beginning to exhale a string of senseless curses, and Sarah followed along with a series of “Oh gods” that eventually crescendoed in what was clearly an orgasm.
John did not let up though, in fact he increased his pace and moved one hand from Sarah’s hip up to her shoulder, holding her into the pillows. He fucked her hard and fast and Sherlock felt the heat rise up in his face as he watched. God, he wanted John to hold him down and have his way with him like that.
Then, Sherlock watched as John turned his head, looking over his shoulder and directly into the camera once more. Sherlock’s heart clenched in a mix of fear, shame, and utter arousal as he essentially locked eyes with John as he mercilessly fucked Sarah into the sheets. Sherlock swallowed hard, unable to look away from John’s eyes on the screen.
Finally it was John who looked away, turning his attention back to Sarah as he quickly pulled out of her and gave his thick cock a few hard tugs before cumming all over her back with a long groan. John’s noises, and the sight of him stroking his fat cock was nearly more than Sherlock could take. He bit his fist and tugged on a handful of his hair to silence the moans he could feel rising involuntarily up from his throat.
John stretched over to the bedside table, offering Sarah the tissues to clean herself up. She turned around to face him, kissing him on the mouth as she fumblingly wiped her back. “That was just what I needed,” Sarah sighed, giving John a quick embrace and another kiss.
“Glad to be of service.” John smiled back at her.
“Would … would you be terribly disappointed if I took off? I’ve got an early shift, and.”
“It’s fine.” John cut her off, and it seemed to Sherlock that he actually meant it.
Sherlock watched as John pulled a robe on and Sarah gathered her discarded clothes up from the floor. She got dressed in the bathroom, leaving John alone on the screen, sitting on the edge of the bed, back to the camera. Sherlock cursed the robe for depriving him a view of John’s bare back and the chance to admire the musculature of his broad shoulders, even if it was through a less than satisfactory video feed.
As the sound of running water filtered through the headphones, Sherlock watched John rise from the bed and gather up his own discarded clothes, depositing them on a chair. John then paced slowly next to the bed, waiting to see Sarah off. Eventually Sherlock heard, but didn’t see the bathroom door open, and John walked out of the cameras view. There were some customary awkward goodnight’s said and then Sherlock heard the door to the hotel room click shut.
Sherlock expected John to go into the bathroom for a shower, and was surprised when instead he walked back into the room, sat on the end of the bed with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the floor, and let out a loud sigh.
One, two, three minutes ticked by with John hardly moving. Sherlock worried briefly if the video had frozen, but the movement of John’s shoulders while he breathed confirmed the feeds functionality. “What is he doing?” Sherlock wondered. John’s encounter with Sarah had surely not been interesting enough to require this much thought afterward, had it?
Sherlock was still puzzling over John’s behaviour when suddenly John’s back straightened, he uncrossed his arms and rested his balled up hands on his knees and took a deep breath. “Sherlock.” John’s stern voice came through clearly on the headphones.
Sherlock started at the sound of his name being called. His heart beat unbearably fast and hard against his ribs, but he didn’t move an inch. His mind moved at lightning speed though, going over all his options nearly simultaneously. He decided that his best was to not do anything at all. There was no way that John knew for sure that Sherlock was not only watching, but in the very next room.
So Sherlock waited, and he watched John on the laptop. Only another minute passed before John spoke again. “Sherlock. In here. Now.” John hadn’t raised his voice, but his tone was rigid and commanding. Sherlock swallowed hard. “I said now, Sherlock.” John demanded, snapping his face toward the camera.
Sherlock hesitated momentarily, then removed his headphones and slipped off the bed - clearly he was going to have to have this confrontation with John whether he wanted to or not. He smoothed out his shirt and trousers, realizing belatedly that he was still half hard inside of them. In two strides he was at the door joining the rooms, and with a quick intake of breath, he turned the handle and came face to face with one John Watson looking up at him from his spot on the bed, and savagely, cooly angry.