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Hanging on the telephone...

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“John? John are you okay?” Sherlock's voice was urgent over the phone and it was only then that John realised he had been too busy unlocking the door to his hotel room to answer him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I was just getting into my room.” Any other time Sherlock preferred to text, John knew this and even with them being ‘boyfriends’ (if that’s what you could describe what they had with each other) for six months now, Sherlock had always texted his lover.

Now John on the other hand preferred to call, it was more intimate and overall inviting than reading automated words on an overly bright screen, especially as John was no whizz with a keyboard as it was, let alone a key pad.

“Oh, any new information now you’ve called me up?” Sherlock muttered. Yes, John had called Sherlock and Sherlock had sent John, his ‘right hand man’, on a case somewhere out in the far off countryside of Yorkshire.

“Alright, alright, give me a minute!” John barked down the phone and he heard an ardent sigh sound itself through the receiver. The doctor made his way into the dingy room, flicking the main light on as he went by. It filled the cupboard-like space with cruel artificial light.


“Yes, okay, what do you want to know?” He sat himself down on his bed, stretching his aching legs out down the length of it and leaning back on his uncomfortable pillow.

“I thought I mentioned that already John, are you listening?” Sherlock's tone was biting but also tired. John considered the baritone for a minute.

“Sherlock, have you been sleeping enough since I left?” There was silence on the other end and John was suddenly washed over with a paternal instinct. “Sherlock, you know I said you should look after yourself while I was gone, that was the least you could do, surely!?”

“Listen John, it doesn’t matter, just—” The detective pleaded, obviously wanting to change the subject. John shifted slightly in frustration and the bed groaned disapprovingly under him.

“No Sherlock, it does matter, you can’t do that to yourself…you better have been eating because if I get home and your ribs are showing then—”

“Don’t be so ridiculous, of course I’ve been eating…” His voice was uneven. He was lying. John sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair.

“Jesus Christ Sherlock, you can’t keep doing this every time I’m away.” He could hear Sherlock hesitate through the phone, there was a brief fumbling sound before a small sigh of relief could be heard. Sherlock had obviously sat down. “Look, it doesn’t matter for now. My train leaves in three days’ time, if you could just make sure you eat until then and then I’ll be back home okay?”

“Yes…three days?” The sleuth sounded very calm, but John could tell that behind his voice he was cracking.

“Mhm, and anyway, you’re the prick who sent me down here!” He chuckled and felt Sherlock do the same on the other line. It was only a small laugh but John savoured it as much as possible. He seemed to possess the rare gift to make the stoic bastard smile and laugh, but since he hadn’t seen the man smile in over a week, the laugh was positively liquid gold to his ears.

Just thinking about the man’s face right now made the doctor’s heart ache in his chest and for a second he couldn’t quite believe that he was pining for his complicated lover.

“Yes, true, but it’s all for the better…” Sherlock's baritone pulled him out of his trance and this time he could clearly tell the detective was struggling with the words he was about to say next. “I…I can’t wait to see you again.”

John's body flooded with warmth, happiness trickled through him so quickly that it made his toes curl and a broad smile work across his features, which slowly formed into a smirk.

“Oh my, does the great Sherlock Holmes miss me? How sentimental.” He teased, almost feeling the blush on Sherlock's face through the phone.

“Perhaps so…and what about Doctor Watson?” His voice was smooth as silk and dark but edging on uncertain. John found it immensely adoring how often the self-proclaimed ‘sociopath’ had to be reminded that the feelings he was feeling weren’t abnormal.

The doctor sighed happily and settled further into his bed, leaning his head back against the head board.

“Of course I miss you, you insufferable prick.” John felt more than heard Sherlock chuckle slightly, the deep baritone vibrating down his spine. Watson was suddenly overwhelmed with so much emotion for the man that he almost felt a tear prickle in his eye, “I think about you all the time you know…” He knew it sounded immeasurable soppy but it was true, his mind had never strayed far from the man he loved.

Even while collecting information he would constantly be thinking ‘is this how Sherlock would do it?’ or he would see something that caught his eye or find out a gory nugget about the case and think ‘Sherlock would love that’. He was a hopeless romantic for this man and he knew it.

Sherlock had gone seemingly quiet on the other side.


“Oh, nothing, I was just uhm…what do you think of?” he heard Sherlock shift around where he was sat and something was brought to his lips, he guessed it was probably tea. John smirked, endeared by Sherlock's keen interest.

“Oh, just you, your hair, eyes and such.” He thought for a second, an idea worming into his brain. “Us fucking…” he purred, accentuating the ‘uck’ as the words rolled off his tongue. 

John grinned at the sharp intake of breath he heard and arousal fluttered in his stomach.

“Oh…” Sherlock mumbled, John had obviously taken him by surprise by the sudden dirty turn the conversation had taken.

“Have we ever tried phone sex before?” it was a genuine question but it sounded more like an invitation by the way john had pronounced it.

“N-no, I don’t think so…” He could hear the smirk approach in Sherlock's voice as he got his drift rather quickly.

“Are you alone?” John's voice had turned thick and dark, husky in his throat. He waited for Sherlock to answer, settling further down onto his pillows and kicking his shoes off.

“Well of course John, hold on…” John waited, hearing Sherlock shift around a little and the sound of a door clicking, the faint click of a light switch and then the familiar creaking of their bed. “Okay…”

The doctor smiled at the flustered tone of his boyfriend’s voice, he thought he might as well take the lead since Sherlock wouldn’t be experienced with such things…he did prefer to text.

“Oh, getting comfortable are we? Good, I want you to lie on your back please.” John's voice was soft but affirmative, he would have to keep his voice down due to the thin walls of his hotel but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use it to his advantage, and so his voice was now nothing but a silken whisper.

He heard Sherlock's breath stutter.

“You’re going to have to tell me what you’re doing, I can’t see you remember, I want to know it all, how you’re feeling, what you’re doing.”

“I’ve done as you’ve asked, I’m on my back on our bed.” He sounded anticipated.

“Good boy, now, I want you to lean over to the bed side drawer and take out the lube, you should know where it is, I want you to take it and place it beside you but don’t touch it yet.”

“Yes, I’ve got it.”

“Good.” John imagined Sherlock laying on their bed at home, his most likely black clothes contrasting with their white duvet as he sprawled there, panting in anticipation, holding his phone to his ear with a white knuckled hand. John slowly felt the drag on his blood travelling down south but he didn’t touch himself yet. “Now, what are you thinking about, what are you smelling, seeing? I want to get a good feel of you Sherlock.”

Sherlock's breath panted slowly in his ear, when he spoke his voice was seductively dark and smooth like black ribbon falling over metal. “I’m thinking of you John, thinking of you here with me John, thinking of what your hands would feel like if you were touching me now.” His voice uncurled in John's ear and scraped down his spine causing his arousal to fill with more blood as it thickened under his clothes.

“I’m thinking of your hand in my hair, pulling lightly just the way you know I like it as your other hand undresses me. You’d go slowly because I know how much you’d want to saviour this and, oh god John, I’m hard can I touch myself please?”

“No.” John ordered, feeling his ears burn hot as if those words Sherlock had said had travelled through the phone and his hot breath was breathing against his lobe. He heard a whine sound from the back of Sherlock's throat. “You’re hard already? My, my, you needy little thing.” John held back a laugh at the indignant sound of protest that Sherlock emitted on being patronized.

He rolled onto his side, cradling the phone between his ear and his pillow and his hand slowly ghosted down to his erection, pressing it lightly through the fabric of his jeans. Sherlock must have heard him gasp because he emitted a low growl, the sort of noise an animal made if someone else was touching his food. John felt his cock twitch in response.

“I bet you wish you were here right now, don’t you?” he hummed low, his voice deliberate and slow. He heard the detective’s breath hitch.

“Oh god, John, yes. Are you touching yourself?” John both groaned and smirked at Sherlock's forwardness and the plain eager tone in his voice.

“Not really, I’m trying ever so hard not to but my cock is straining against my jeans because of that voice of yours.” Sherlock whimpered slightly to know what effect he had had on his lover.

“Well do it then, touch yourself, I want to hear you John.” His voice was so sensual that John almost said ‘fuck it’ and wanked himself stupid but he didn’t want this to end so quickly.

“Oh my, how daring of you Mr Holmes, but no, not yet. Are you still on your back?”


“What an obedient man you are, okay, I want you to slowly undo your flies, describing it to me, I want to get a good image.”

Sherlock's breathe was heavy over the phone and it was easy to hear the miniscule moans he emitted as the pressure was released from his cock in a painfully slow fashion.

“Oh god, I’m so hard John, I really want you, I want your cock inside of me, I want to feel you against me.” Sherlock cut himself off with a small whine, “This is unbearable John, I want to touch myself please.”

John's mouth had gone dry at hearing his seemingly ‘oblivious’ lover speak such dirty language, it was so unusual for Sherlock to say ‘cock’ but it was also proving to be highly arousing. He knew exactly what he was doing to him, the bastard.

“No, not yet Sherlock, you are needy aren’t you?” he was breathless and now rubbing at his cock in earnest through his jeans, applying just enough pressure for him to feel but not enough for him to lose control of the situation. “Such a—” he gasped in a sudden burst of friction as his jeans shifted slightly under his palm, “—Dirty mouth as well, I bet I could find a good use for that mouth when I get back.”

Sherlock was aware of what John was doing. He was breathing heavily, panting almost, at the sounds John was making, groaning as John continued to tease him with his ideas. “Oh god yes John, please, please do that when you come back, I want to feel your cock grow hard in my mouth, oh god,please John, can I please!”

“Begging now?” John laughed slightly, taken off guard so much by that filthy mouth of his that he had to stop touching himself for fear of him coming in his underwear. “Well, okay, but do as I say and only that, okay?”

“Yes, yes what do I do?” He sounded so eager. John imagined his lover sprawled over their pristine sheets, the crotch of his smart trousers bulging with a blatant erection, his flies pulled to reveal the tent in his underwear. The thought made his cock jerk violently and become so hard that it was starting to ache. He kept his fist balled in the sheets to hold back from wrapping his warm palm around himself.

“Reach down slowly, gliding your hand along your body and stop when you get to the hem of your underwear, I want you to tell me what underwear you’re wearing.”  Sherlock gasped at the touch of himself on his body, groaning slightly when his self-control threatened to leave him.

“Red, I’m wearing red, they’re yours John.” Sherlock sounded both guilty and too aroused to care. John smirked, warm blood continued to move down to his cock at the thought of Sherlock wearing his underwear, the red fabric hugging his swollen cock as it lay almost ridged towards his belly.

“Oh, so you enjoy wearing my underwear when I’m away? I bet it turns you on doesn’t it? Thinking that you’re wearing the same fabric that I’ve been so intimate with, I bet it makes your cock twitch every time you feel the fabric brush against you.” Sherlock groaned loudly and John heard the bed creak slightly. John had had sex with Sherlock enough times to realise that his hips had obviously bucked up off the bed.

“Oh god, John!” His baritone reverberated down to John's cock as he moaned his name.

“You better not be touching yourself or I’ll hang up.” He wouldn’t, not a chance, but it was interesting to raise the odds, test the boundaries.

“No, no please don’t, no I didn’t.” The sleuth panted, his voice broken and smothered in arousal.

“Good boy, now, I want you to pass your hand over that engorged cock of yours and gently rub yourself through the fabric of my underwear , not too much though, just enough.” The doctor listened intently at the little puff of air that escaped the man’s mouth, a gasp which quickly turned into a long, drawn out moan that went straight down south. John shuddered in arousal.

“Oh John!” he pleaded, Sherlock had always been vocal in bed but John supposed he was being even more so due to John egging him on to ‘tell him everything’. John was pretty sure what Sherlock was feeling right now, but he asked anyway.

“Does that feel good Sherlock? I bet you want more though?” Sherlock almost choked in his hurry to respond.

“Yes, please more, please, what can I do next? God John this isn’t enough, I need more.” His voice was deep and sensual, almost as if he had taken lessons on how to get the perfect sex voice. Knowing Sherlock some research was probably put into it.

“Oh yes, I bet you want me to take you into my mouth don’t you?” John continued to tease, cautiously bringing his hand back down to stroke at his own covered cock. His breath hitched noticeably from the friction and Sherlock purred in unison with his quiet moans.  “Feel my hot tongue over your length, rolling over the head of your cock and teasing your slit, your cum tasting bitter on my tongue.”

“Oh John…” Sherlock whimpered, nothing but a whisper at the back of his throat and John could hear the bed creak as Sherlock bucked his hips into his own hand which was kneading into his cock, “Please John, I need more.”

“Oh Sherlock, I love it when you beg, you’re so hot.” John was aware that he was babbling now, slowly losing control over the situation due to his hand and his fantasies. It took a lot of self-control but he managed to tear his hand away from his erection, instead he attached it firmly back to the bedclothes.

“Okay, I want you to pull your trousers and underwear down, so that you’re exposed, you may take them completely off in you like. Don’t touch yourself, just wait.” He heard Sherlock comply eagerly, his breath disappearing off the line for a while before it returned.

“I’ve done it, god John I’m so hard it was difficult, I wish I could see how hard you are, I want to feel your cock so badly, I miss you so much John.” John wasn’t quite sure how to react, Sherlock had managed to mix such a sexual sentence with the most honest and endearing one John had heard him say. It could have been the boner speaking.

“It’s okay, I’ll be home soon and then we can fuck long and slow against the kitchen counter, how does that sound to you?” The guttural moan that John heard told him enough. “Okay, now, are you still on your back?”


“Good, I want you to grab the lube from beside you and squirt a small amount on your palm…” John heard some fumbling and the click of the cap on the lube.

“Yes, I have some.” His voice was a knowing one, he knew what would happen next, after all there were only a few possibilities that could happen when one had lube in their palm.

“Good, now I want you to spread it once over your cock, just once, if you do it any more I’ll be able to tell and then I’ll hang up.” John felt cruel but also powerful, he knew Sherlock enjoyed the dominance but still he tried not to be overly domineering. His own cock was straining painfully now against his jeans and was only increased by the slow, carnal moan that Sherlock made when his hand came into contact with his hot skin. “Oh god, you sound so good, you must be so desperate.” Sherlock made a small whine to show that he agreed, adding breathlessly,

“My legs are shaking John, I haven’t even touched myself properly and my legs are shaking.”

“Oh Sherlock, don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while. I want you to grip yourself at the base, tightly.” He didn’t need to ask if Sherlock complied, he could hear his hips buck and the moan that came with it was more proof that he would ever need. “Good, now stroke upwards once and stop at the head, yes that’s it, oh Sherlock you sound so hot right now, I wish you could hear yourself.”

“John, touch yourself please, I want to hear you, I want to feel your pleasure with mine.” His voice was breathy and his tone stuttered with gasps of arousal. John couldn’t take it any longer, he need to get off as well.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” His hand left the bed sheets and snaked down to his crotch, unzipping his flies and gently pulling his cock out from the possessive clutch of his underwear.

“What are you doing John? I want to hear what you’re doing.”

“I’m—oh god—I’m gripping the base and, I’ve got no lube…” John paused for a second, looking around him to see no bedside drawers of any sort. He swore quietly. “I’ll have to use my spit, hold on.” Working up enough saliva, John spat into his palm. He heard Sherlock gasp at the noise and moan under his breath. He imagined that if he could see him in that state, his engorged cock gripped in his shaking hand as a pair of John's underwear hung from his ankle, his long, pale legs shaking with arousal and shoulders shuddering with anticipation. Perhaps his teeth gently gripping his lower lip as he cursed himself for being so vocal and his hair unkempt and spread across the duvet…well, he wouldn’t have even lasted this long, that’s for sure.

“Oh Sherlock, I’m doing what I told you to do, I’m going to do whatever I tell you to do now so we can feel it together.”

“Okay, okay what next?”

John grunted, his pleasure doubled by the idea that Sherlock would be feeling it too. “Next, I want you slowly use your thumb to rub the head of your prick, press over the slit and—oh god, Sherlock!” Sherlock moaned John's name loudly over the phone, his voice was so intimate it almost made up for him not being here with John.    

“John, it feels so good, does it feel good for you?” He shuddered, his breath shaking and for a moment he thought that he wouldn’t answer but after a while he let out a strangled moan followed by a cry of approval.

“Oh Sherlock, oh god, st-stop it with that now, bring your hand back down to the base and pump yourself a couple times jus-just—ah!”

“Oh god John, I can’t stop, please enough, please, I want to come!” John folded under Sherlock's desperate pleas, driving his own mind over the edge as he found he hadn’t stopped pumping his own cock. He tried to stop but by now he was too far gone to think clearly.

“Oh Sherlock, your voice sounds so good, I’m going to fuck you so hard when I get home you won’t be able to walk for days, oh god!” he was so close, so very, very close and he could hear Sherlock shouting praise over the phone but his mind couldn’t absorb it. He just had enough time to hear Sherlock groan his name over and over until he was seeing white lights in his vision and everything around him shut down with a white hot buzzing in his ears.

He came, over and over streams of his load shot over the sheets. He had the faint good mind to cover the head of his erection with his hand before his come went all over the hotel sheets (more so than it already had).

When he came down slightly, he became aware of a heavy panting on the other end of the phone. Obviously Sherlock was in a similar state to him.

“You okay?” He managed to mumble through a sudden wave of fatigue.

“Yes, that was brilliant John.” John felt a small sense of pride well in his stomach, it wasn’t highly unusual for Sherlock to compliment him but it still felt good whenever he did.

“Are you tired?” John muttered, feeling himself falling into sleep himself. He got a hum of approval and then a slight laugh.

“You’re going to get a hell of a bill for the phone.” John chuckled with his joke, a chuckle that slowly fell into a sigh as he realised that it was true. “I suppose I should…”

“No, don’t please…I just want to hear you for a bit longer.”

Sherlock was silent for a while before stating rather obviously, “But I’m going to go to sleep now.”

“I know, just, leave the phone on your pillow please, just for a short while and then I’ll hang up…” he almost begged. Sherlock paused in confusion.


“I just…want to hear you breathing for a while…” John almost felt embarrassed about it. He heard Sherlock smirk quietly to himself.

“Oh, sentiment?”

“Something like that, yeah.”