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Lestrade walked up the stairs to 221B and was surprised when he found both the kitchen and living room doors closed. He had just put his hand on the knob to open the living room door when he heard a voice.

“Oh, my balls are nearly touching yours.” Sherlock moaned. Lestrade lifted an eyebrow and put his ear to the door, ready to find out if his suspicions about the duo were correct. This was going to be interesting.

“You’ve put me in an awkward position.” John replied.

“Try lifting your leg up a bit.” Sherlock instructed, Lestrade heard the rustling of movement. There was a pause, and clicking noise before Sherlock continued. “That was good.” He purred.

“Come on Sherlock.” John said. “Hold your hand like that. That’s good. Now run it through your fingers. Gently back and forth, just get used to the feeling.” John went quiet, Lestrade imagined he knew exactly why.

“Is that good John?” Sherlock asked.

“Brilliant, but keep your eye on the tip.” John replied. There was loud bang, Lestrade jumped back from the door with shock.

“What’s that white stuff coming out of it?” Sherlock asked.

“Oh god…” John moaned. “I think you’ve cracked it!” Lestrade hurtled down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him, the case could wait, and he needed to see a psychiatrist urgently.

“Is someone outside?” John asked as he stepped around the full size pool table that was now taking up most of their living room. Sherlock had insisted that he needed it for a case, and of course there were never any half measures with Sherlock, he had had to have the full kit and caboodle. Sherlock shrugged looking down at the broken white ball in his hand. John rummaged through his bag and took out a new one. “Try not to hit the mantle piece this time Sherlock.” He said smiling.

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“John, will you wash my sheets?” Sherlock called from the bathroom. Mrs Hudson trundled up the stairs with some freshly baked biscuits she had made and placed them on the table. She watched as John disappeared into the bedroom.

“Oh my god!” John shouted from Sherlock’s bedroom. “You finally did it then.” Mrs Hudson smiled enjoying listening to her boys banter. “God how did you get it over the sheets… It’s all brown and sticky and it smells.” Mrs Hudson paused for a moment, sure that she could hear the faint sounds of John retching.

“Why do you think I’m having a shower.” Sherlock called.

“My god it’s over your pillow case too. How the hell did it get up there? And your underpants! I think I’m going to be sick.” John mumbled as he walked out of the room holding his nose and the soiled sheets. Mrs Hudson looked at the brown stained bedding and frowned.

“If you think I’m putting those in my washing machine you’ve got another thing coming!” She stormed off down the stairs. “Sherlock take a couple of Imodium before you go to bed tonight dear.” John stared at the space where Mrs Hudson had been standing.

“I’m confused.” He said as Sherlock walked up behind him in a towel.

“I don’t think it suits me.” Sherlock grumbled looking at his refection in the mirror. Most of the spray tan he had the previous day had either come off on the sheets or washed off in the shower. “Why would anyone want to be this shade of.. of..”

“Orange.” John said helpfully.

“Exactly.” Sherlock replied. “Well it could work as a disguise if the situation called for it.”

“Like if you had to go to a David Dickinson fan club meeting incognito.” John suggested.

“Who’s David Dickinson?” Sherlock asked raising an eyebrow.

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John stood in the reception of the surgery as he zipped up his coat. His shift was finished and it was just about time to leave for Baker Street. Sarah sat behind the reception desk looking through some patient records.

“Goodnight Sarah.” John said as he heard the opening bars of “I’m not in love by 10cc” coming from his jacket. He blushed knowing that Harry had been messing around with his message alerts again. After a moment of trying to find the offending item John fished it out, it must be important if Sherlock was calling.

“Sherlock?” John said wishing he hadn’t. He held the phone away from his ear.

“I know, but it could have been someone else using your phone because you ‘prefer to text.” John grumbled.

“It’s firm? Good… Why are you telling me this?” He asked, Sarah could hear the squeak of Sherlock talking back to him.

“I’ll do it when I get home.” He said, turning his back to Sarah.

“Put the cream on it then.” He whispered, realising that Sarah could overhear. Sarah craned her neck, and pretended to write on the notes listening intently.

“No, smooth it on gently Sherlock.” John said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Sprinkle the powder on when you’re finished.” He said taking a deep breath.

“See you in 22 minutes 12 seconds.” He said before ending the call. With that John smiled at Sarah and headed for the door. “See you tomorrow.” He shouted over his shoulder. Sarah looked down at her notes, she didn’t want to think too much about her boyfriend offering to ‘do it’ when he got home.


John and Sherlock knocked on Mrs Hudson’s door bearing their gifts.

“Happy Birthday!” They both shouted as she opened the door, revealing tables full of food that had been set out for her party. Sherlock presented the Sherry trifle that he and John had made with a flourish.

“Oh my boys! What a thoughtful gift. I haven’t had Sherry trifle for years.” Mrs Hudson said as she ran her finger around the edge of the bowl where the cream had run over. “Mmm..” She said licking her finger.

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Sally waited outside the lift doors, waiting to go up the 2 flights to her office. The lift light was on the ground floor but the doors didn’t open. She was just about to take the stairs when she heard a failure voice.

“No don’t try and pull it out!” John grumbled. “It hurts when you do that.”

“This is ridiculous!” Sherlock replied. “We can’t stay like this.”

“Oh…. Flipping eck Sherlock, don’t grab my hips so tightly.” John said slightly breathlessly. “You’re not making the situation any easier.”

“Have you got anything that I can use as a lubricant?” Sherlock asked. Sally’s eyes nearly shot out of her head. She would have said something but she seemed to have completely lost the ability to speak. Sally couldn’t move, she just stared at the lift doors.

“Not that I can think of.” John replied. “Don’t put your hands there Sherlock!” John squeaked.

“I’ve got something!” Sherlock exclaimed. There was the sound of liquid squirting out of a bottle. Sally took a breath.

“Oh god that’s good.” John said relieved. “Wiggle it a bit.” There was an odd plop like noise.

“Excellent, it’s out.” Sherlock said. “It looks a bit purple though.”

“Well it would, it was stuck in there for 10 minutes, it cut the circulation off.” John replied. Sally regained her senses and headed for the stairs. There was no way in hell she was talking to the ‘freak’ today, and she needed to make an urgent visit to the toilet to throw up.


The doors to the lift opened slowly, John and Sherlock stepped out into the foyer. John nursed his bruised hand.

“I told you your politeness will hurt you one day.” Sherlock grumbled.

“I didn’t think trying to stop the lift for someone was going to nearly break my hand.” John replied annoyed.

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“Sir, I think you might like to hear this.” One of Mycroft’s minions said as he pushed the headphones toward him. Mycroft slipped them on and settled down to listen to the latest instalment of John and Sherlock pretending not to be a couple.

“Sherlock do you want me to or not?” John’s voice resonated. There was a resigned sigh as Sherlock replied.


“Budge over then.” John said. Mycroft heard the creak of Sherlock’s bed. “Do you want me to pull them down?” John asked. Mycroft concentrated hard on what he was hearing. He could hear the sound of material slipping over skin. “Does that feel good?” John asked.

“Mmm.” Sherlock mumbled.

“You’re going to have to move up the bed a bit.” John said grunting like he was lifting something. “Ok Sherlock open your mouth.”

“Rectal.” Sherlock squeaked.

“Oh really, you think I’ve shoved it up anyone’s ass?” John said annoyed. “Now open your bloody mouth.” Sherlock was silent for a moment his mouth obviously filled.

There was an audible plop as something was pulled out of Sherlock’s mouth. “Oh that’s a bit not good.” John said.

“Mumph..” Sherlock moaned.

“Open your mouth again” John commanded. “Don’t make me force you.” A couple of squeaks later Sherlock made a gulping noise followed by a pained cough. “That’s good Sherlock but you’ve got some in the corner of your mouth, better lick it off.”

“Urg…” Sherlock replied.

“Well you should listen to me in future.” John said, a trace of anger in his voice.

Mycroft almost showed his distaste at John’s words. He had no idea John was such a dominant lover. He would have to store that nugget of information away for future use. He took the head phones off, left them on his desk and slipped outside for a cigarette. Perhaps listening to his brother’s private life wasn’t such a good idea.


Mrs Hudson stood in the kitchen waiting for John to come out of Sherlock’s bedroom.

“How is he?” She asked a look of concern on her face.

“Temperature, sore throat, generally grumpy. He complained about my thermometer, then grumbled at the cough medicine. I told him not to jump in the bloody Thames. He knew I had a date tonight!” John said annoyed. Mrs Hudson tapped his arm.

“Oh John, you know he never listens.” She said with a smile. “Especially if you’re going to be having fun with someone else.”

“What?” John said with a look of confusion on his face.

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Molly looked up as the tornado formally known as John Watson entered the morgue. Sherlock who was bent over a corpse didn’t look up as John pulled him bodily away from the table.

“Where the hell have you been?” John screamed.

“Investigating a case in Cardiff.” Sherlock replied as brushed John’s hands of his lapels. “I don’t see why you’re so upset.” Sherlock returned to the corpse.

“I thought you’d left me again.” John screamed. Molly decided it was about time she made a cup of coffee and quietly left the room.


Molly returned twenty minutes later. All was quiet back in the morgue. She pressed her ear against the door just to make sure.

“Sherlock don’t, we’re in a morgue.” John said breathlessly.

“I don’t care.” Sherlock replied.

“Nurggg..” John mumbled, Molly raised an eyebrow confused. They couldn’t be doing what she thought they were doing, after all John was straight and had a girlfriend. She listened more carefully.

“John the difference in our heights seems to be having an adverse effect.” Sherlock said.

“You don’t ‘have’ to stand up.” John replied. There was a thump as someone fell to the floor. “Oh my fu… I didn’t mean that Sherlock! Your trousers are going to get dirty.”

“Mrs Hudson can wash them later.” Sherlock replied. A moment later John let out a strangled whine. Molly turned away from the door wondering how long she should give them before going back in. She looked at her watch. By her own experience three minutes should be enough. She trundled back down the corridor to the kitchen and got her bottle of juice out of the fridge.


Molly returned exactly three minutes later and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Sherlock shouted. Molly entered, everything seemed exactly the same as when she left, except John was slightly flushed. Sherlock was bent over the corpse on the table sporting a deep purple hicky on his neck.

“You’ve got something on your knees Sherlock.” She said twisting the top off the juice bottle and grinning.