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emmagrant01Series: Missing and Alternate Scenes for A Cure for Boredom
Author: Emma Grant
Fandom/Pairing: Sherlock BBC, John/Sherlock, John/others
Index of all missing and alternate scenes
Alternate scene 2.3
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5880 words
Summary: Set during chapter 2. Sherlock's POV of the scene with Annie and Ryan.
Alternate link: AO3
At the top of the stairs Sherlock turned toward the bar. He signaled to the bartender, who nodded and immediately began pulling a pint of Stella Artois. Apparently they were regulars now, given that the bartender knew their order on sight. He turned to John with an amused smile, but John wasn't next to him. He stood several yards away, eyes narrowed in confusion.
Ah, of course. John had expected to go home now, hadn't he? Sherlock had forgotten to mention that the night wasn't over quite yet.
The bartender returned with a pint of Stella and a discreet, "I'll put it on your tab, shall I?"
He expected to receive an obnoxious text from Mycroft about the bar tab in the morning, though honestly they could be drinking quite a lot more than they were. Sherlock nodded at the bartender and
beckoned John with a wave of his hand.
"What's this?" The expression on John's face was one Sherlock was rather fond of, and one he saw far too infrequently: pure skepticism.
"A pint of Stella. I recall it's one of your favorites." He held out the glass and John took it, his expression settling into something closer to wariness.
"Oh. Thanks. We do have beer at home, you know."
"We're not going home just yet. Ah, I forgot to ask: would you say your refractory period is about half an hour?"
The surprise on John's face was a reward in itself; Sherlock had begun to doubt he could shock him so forcefully anymore. "My what?"
"That's what I've assumed from observation of your masturbation habits, but I thought I should probably ask."
John could only stare at him for a several seconds, apparently having been rendered speechless. At last he blinked and shook his head, the I can't fucking believe this clear on his face. "We're not done tonight?"
"No. I realized the pace of data collection could be increased significantly and I've made arrangements for another encounter in--" He paused to dig his phone from his trouser pocket and thumbed it on. "--twenty-five minutes. Will that be enough time?"
"Oh my God." John leaned back against the bar and drank a good fourth of the beer. He didn't look entirely pleased by the prospect.
"If not, I can ask them to wait a bit. At least, I think I can." Rescheduling this one might be out of the question, and he'd been looking forward to seeing John in a threesome. Well, another threesome. One involving a man, if he was completely honest with himself.
John hesitated a moment more before an expression of tired resignation settled on his face. "Okay."
"Good." Sherlock frowned slightly even as the word left his lips. John was clearly reluctant and Sherlock felt uneasy about that.
But he hadn't said no, had he? John had been the one who'd insisted on honesty, and if he didn't want to proceed, Sherlock was fairly certain he'd simply refuse. John usually didn't mince words with Sherlock. His brutal honesty and fearlessness about telling Sherlock exactly what he was thinking were two of his most endearing qualities. Well, perhaps not most endearing. The list of qualities John possessed that endeared him to Sherlock was quite long indeed. He hadn't ranked them in a while -- perhaps that was a list to be revisited in light of new data. For example, John's surprising willingness to play the role of Sherlock's boyfriend in public for the purposes of this experiment, despite his typically negative reaction to anyone thinking they were a couple, was something to add to the list.
John sighed, and Sherlock realized they were standing much too far apart for a couple. They seemed to be keeping up appearances quite well, but it was best to be on the safe side. He leaned closer and slid an arm around John's waist and John's body briefly stiffened against him before relaxing again. The arm not holding the pint glass snaked around Sherlock's waist in return, a warm hand settling against Sherlock's hip as John focused his gaze on the crowd and raised his pint glass to his lips again.
Sherlock watched him for a moment, smiling fondly in case anyone was looking. He didn't usually enjoy this sort of physical proximity with other people, but somehow he didn't mind it at the moment. John felt comfortable against him, warm and solid. And John understood him, as much as any human being could do. John understood this, at any rate, and that pleased Sherlock more than he'd previously realized. The arrangement was working out rather nicely indeed.
They watched the crowd in silence for twenty minutes. John didn't look at Sherlock, not even when Sherlock spent an entire minute studying his profile. He kept his gaze focused on the crowd, occasionally lifting his glass to sip his beer, and seemed lost in thought. He wasn't worried, nor was he particularly nervous -- both of those emotions were fairly easy to read. Rather, he seemed calm, with a touch of quiet anticipation. He hadn't asked what was coming, hadn't even hinted that he wanted to know. Did he enjoy this game that much, or was it that he trusted Sherlock completely? No amount of staring at him helped answer the question.
"Ready?" Sherlock asked when the time came for their next meeting.
John nodded and turned to put his empty pint glass on the bar. Sherlock steered him towards the door with a slight touch to his lower back. John stopped at the door and waited for Sherlock to walk through it before following him down the stairs.
John was silent the entire walk down; in fact, he hadn't said a word in nearly half an hour. Sherlock paused before the door of room four and turned to him. His expression was almost solemn, as if he was steeling himself for whatever he might find on the other side. Sherlock hesitated a moment more. He liked John silent and at the mercy of his partners, but in this particular case that might not be the best approach.
"The rules about talking and touching will be suspended for this session, by the way."
John turned to look at him, surprised. "Okay. Should I bother to ask why?"
"No."
"I don't suppose you've ever seen 'Behind the Green Door', have you?"
He shifted quickly through the list of film titles in his mind, but nothing registered. "No. Why?"
"No reason. Forget I mentioned it. Ready when you are."
As if he'd be able to forget that title now, as obviously connected to John's experience as it was. He'd find a way to watch it as soon as possible. He didn't bother knocking; he opened the door and gestured John inside. John started forward and then Sherlock walked right into him -- he'd stopped in the doorway.
"So sorry," John said to the couple wrapped around each other on the sofa. "We must have the wrong--"
Sherlock smirked and gave John a small shove from behind. He stumbled forward as the couple on the sofa looked up at them and grinned.
"You're in the right place, darling," the woman said.
Sherlock closed the door and leaned back against it, watching. The woman and her husband were staring at John, apparently pleased with what they saw. John seemed frozen to the spot. Sherlock crossed to stand beside him.
"Should we do introductions?" the man asked.
John turned to look at Sherlock, his expression carefully guarded. Sherlock stared back at him for a split second before realizing that John was waiting for him to answer the question. Even though he'd given John permission to speak, he was still deferring to Sherlock. That was fascinating, but there was no time to think on it now; he filed it away for later reflection and turned to smile at the naked couple on the sofa.
"I'm Ryan," the man said as he settled back on the sofa. He was very good-looking and he was completely unconcerned about his own nudity. He spread his thighs in what was nearly an invitation, and Sherlock's eyes flicked down to what was between them of their own accord. He looked up to see Ryan looking back at him with a heated expression. Sherlock's lips twisted into a smile and he turned to look at John. John looked as if he wanted to disappear into the floor.
The woman sitting next to Ryan giggled and he tilted his head toward her. "This is my wife, Annie."
Annie's eyes were focused on John, nearly leering at him, but Ryan's gaze was on Sherlock. His eyebrows rose slightly and Sherlock felt an odd twinge in his gut. He allowed himself another moment of staring back, not guarding against the heat he felt before he looked away again. He recognized it as attraction, of course, but it was unusual for him to feel it like this. He generally only noticed that people were attractive in a general, theoretical sort of way. He'd spent so many years keeping himself at a distance from almost everyone around him that he hadn't opened himself to the possibility of attraction to a stranger.
It was especially odd to find himself attracted to someone who may well be about to have sex with his boyfriend. Well, no, not his boyfriend, his flatmate, whom he was pretending was his boyfriend for this experiment. Or rather, they were both pretending to be a couple for the experiment. Or whatever. Anyway.
He forced a smile. "I'm Sherlock and this is John."
"Hi." John sounded as uncertain as Sherlock had ever heard him. "Nice to meet you."
Ryan and Annie grinned at him, apparently finding his hesitance charming. "Thanks for meeting us on such short notice," Ryan said. "We've been trying to set this up for a while."
"Of course." Sherlock stepped in behind John and slid one arm around his waist, a gesture he hoped appeared comforting. Any actual comforting it might provide would also be beneficial at the moment. "This is going to be right up John's street, I think."
John leaned back against him and Sherlock could feel how tense he was. For all Sherlock knew, this was normal -- perhaps John was typically this tense before a scene. After all, he never quite knew what was going to happen. And of course, this time there was a man involved and that might change the entire equation. Sherlock clenched his jaw in frustration, realizing he'd missed an opportunity to find out if John's physical response at this point was different when there were only women involved. It may be an important point, depending on how things went tonight. It might have been his only chance to collect data on that particular variable, dammit.
There was nothing for it now, though. He swallowed down his frustration and forced himself to focus on John once again. John was pressing his shoulders into Sherlock's chest as if drawing strength from him. Did he find physical contact with Sherlock comforting? That was an interesting idea in itself. He decided to test it a bit.
"Relax," he whispered. One hand was already pressed against John's belly and it was easy enough to slide it upwards, stroking his chest. The response was immediate: he felt John relax against him and even shiver slightly. What else would someone do to comfort a partner in such a situation? He looked down to see a tantalizing stretch of skin along John's neck, and it was easy enough to dip his head down and plant a soft kiss there.
There was a sharp intake of breath, and it was a moment before he realized it had come from John. John's head fell back against his shoulder and his eyes closed, and Sherlock realized with a start that he wasn't acting. That response was real: Sherlock had kissed him and John had liked it, perhaps even involuntarily. It was a strangely powerful feeling, one he wasn't sure he'd felt before in his life. Had anyone ever whimpered in pleasure when he'd kissed them like that? If he did it again, what would John do?
He looked up to see that Annie and Ryan were watching, waiting. He unwound his arm from John and gave him a firm push towards them before he could be tempted to kiss John again. John walked several steps toward the sofa and Annie rose to meet him.
"You're completely adorable," she said just before she kissed him. He stood still for two seconds before his arms went around her and he pulled her against him. John's back was to Sherlock, but it was clear that Annie was melting in his arms.
Sherlock glanced at Ryan, who was watching the kiss with a sort of detached interest. He didn't appear jealous or even concerned; he was simply watching his wife kiss another man as if it was a completely normal event in his life. Ryan's eyes darted to Sherlock's then as if he'd realized he was being watched. He gave Sherlock a wry smile.
"You're a bloody good kisser," Annie said, pulling away from John, and Ryan's gaze turned back to the two of them. "Time to get undressed."
John pulled off his clothes with more enthusiasm than usual. Annie took them piece by piece and folded them carefully, setting them aside.
Two children, ages between six and ten, at least one a boy. She opened the drawer of the room's small supply table and pulled out a few small packets before turning back to John.
"Thanks," John said, and she dropped to her knees. Sherlock couldn't see what she was doing, but from the way John's shoulders tightened and then relaxed again, he could guess.
"Let me help with this," she said, and then John's trousers and pants were tugged down to his ankles.
Ryan stood then and crossed to John with a hint of a smirk on his face, and John visibly tensed. Sherlock bit the inside of his lip, uncertain exactly what would happen next. He'd told Annie and Ryan the same cover story he'd told the others, that they were a couple, Sherlock was gay, John was bisexual, and that Sherlock enjoyed sharing him. John knew the cover story, and so he presumably knew this particular scenario was a possibility. He hadn't told Sherlock that involving a man was off-limits. In fact, he hadn't declared anything off-limits as of yet.
Ryan moved to stand beside John and reached out to brush his fingers against John's cheek. John turned toward him, his expression guarded but clearly showing interest as well.
"You are adorable, you know," Ryan said, and he leaned in to kiss John.
Sherlock held his breath for a moment, stunned by the sight of John's lips pressed against another man's. John didn't pull away and he didn't look troubled or hesitant. In fact, after a few seconds had passed, just as he'd done with Annie, he grasped Ryan's arms and pulled him tightly against him.
Sherlock assumed Ryan had positioned himself beside John intentionally, to force him to turn and provide Sherlock with a better view. It was quite a lovely view: John had a firm grip on Ryan's biceps and Ryan's hands were on John's hips, and they seemed to be clinging to each other for support. Ryan had a slight height advantage, but John was clearly the one in control of the kiss.
It was an odd thing to watch. Kissing as presented in films and on television was always rather neat and tidy, but passionate kissing in real life was messy, with open mouths pressed together and brief glimpses of tongue and teeth as one person or another shifted. It looked a bit as if they were trying to devour each other simultaneously, and yet it still somehow appeared erotic, for a reason Sherlock couldn't quite surmise.
Both of them had erections now, which apparently drew Annie like a moth to flame. She tapped Ryan on the shoulder and he pulled out of the kiss with a whimper.
"Fucking hell, you're an amazing kisser," Ryan said before working his mouth down John's neck. He paused to lick at the same spot Sherlock had kissed earlier, and John groaned. Sherlock frowned: perhaps he didn't have any sort of magical effect on John after all. He'd just been lucky enough to hit an especially sensitive spot on the first try.
Annie dropped to her knees with a condom packet in her hand. Sherlock saw her pop the condom in her mouth before she grasped the base of John's prick and took it deeply into her mouth in one smooth movement. John whimpered under this onslaught from the two of them, apparently caught completely by surprise. When Annie pulled off, Sherlock saw that the condom had been neatly rolled onto him.
"You have to show me how to do that," John said.
Annie provided a demonstration on Ryan while John watched -- no observed, the difference was clear -- and Sherlock could only gape at him, because once again, it was obvious that he wasn't acting. With the exception of situations in which he was required to play a military or medical part, John was a terrible actor. He was too honest for his own good much of the time. But now he was practically asking Annie for blow job tips, just after snogging her husband speechless. Sherlock was going to have to revise his understanding of John's sexual orientation considerably.
Ryan pulled John into another kiss then and Annie took both of their cocks in hand and stroked them together a few times before backing away to spread a blanket on the floor. John was nearly wrapped around Ryan now, looking like he'd forgotten there was a woman in the room at all.
Fuck, that was... Sherlock blinked hard. Focus.
John looked fairly debauched by the time Annie pried them apart to position them on the floor. Sherlock settled into a chair by the door to watch. She'd helpfully positioned John in such a way that Sherlock would be able to see him rather well the entire time. She slicked her hand with lube, gave him a few quick strokes, and then straddled him and sank onto his cock. John's eyes fluttered closed briefly before he grinned up at her. Ryan pressed two lubed fingers into Annie's arse and began working them in and out slowly.
She whispered something to John and he rose up enough to kiss her. Ryan watched them for a moment before turning to wink at Sherlock.
"Ready?" Ryan asked, as much to Sherlock as to everyone else.
"Ready," Annie replied. Ryan shifted onto his knees and steadied her hips with one hand while guiding his penis with the other. He pressed forward slowly and Sherlock's gaze shifted to her face. She was calm and relaxed, and it was nothing like his own admittedly limited experience with being in that position. He still resented being told, "You just have to relax, it's not supposed to hurt, you git," and despite what he'd seen in porn, he hadn't quite believed the experience could be entirely pleasant until this moment.
John seemed to have held the same opinion; he now stared up at Annie with an expression almost like awe on his face. Ryan took his time pressing in and then waited, his hands stroking Annie's back. The two of them knew each other's bodies well; even when there was a third person involved they worked as a team. It was fascinating. Sherlock wondered if they'd let him study them as well.
"All right," Annie said after thirty seconds of silence. Did that amount waiting help? It must do.
She began to move, shifting herself forward slowly. John and Ryan both reacted instantly to the movement, their faces showing almost the same expression of pleasure. Ryan scrambled into an awkward sort of crouch and John remained completely still, and both of them were completely focused on Annie.
They finally seemed to find a way to move together that felt good to everyone and dislodged no one, and that was when the situation became truly fascinating to watch. They were all at different places on their own trajectories to orgasm, but it was clear that John and Ryan intended Annie to get there first. Ryan was intensely focused on his wife's movements, John was watching her face carefully while moving his fingers between her thighs, and Annie was clearly losing herself in the moment.
Several minutes passed and the intensity of their movements grew steadily. At last Annie arched up, nearly knocking Ryan over backwards, and her eyes squeezed shut as she began to cry out. John looked up at her in wonder and then caught her as she collapsed against his chest, moaning incoherently.
Ryan seemed to struggle for a moment, and Sherlock realized that he had nearly lost control during her orgasm. When it was clear she was finished, he leaned over her, pressing her into John, and moved with quick shallow strokes.
"Oh shit, oh fuck, that's good, that's--" and then his words melted into groans. He shivered and pressed his forehead into Annie's back and stilled. The three of them remained in a pile for a moment, their breathing still ragged.
It was a moment before Sherlock realized John hadn't come. He didn't seem unhappy about it, though; he had his arms around Annie and was grinning up at the ceiling. At last Ryan pulled out of Annie and snapped the condom off before retrieving a dressing gown and wrapping it around her as he helped her to her feet. He pulled her into an embrace and they kissed.
Sherlock's eyes moved back to John, who was currently pressing his hands over his face. His erection still jutted up from his body, but he didn't seem concerned about it. He dropped his hands and looked over at where Ryan was positioning Annie on the sofa, and smiled.
Sherlock watched him, fascinated by this turn of events. Sexual gratification had always struck him as an inherently selfish act, whether completed alone or with a partner. In the end it was about getting off, and while it was true that helping the other person get off might increase one's chances of orgasm, in Sherlock's own (again, limited) experience, it seemed that achieving orgasm was ultimately the goal of the entire enterprise. Except that John seemed completely unconcerned that he hadn't.
John sat up and looked over at him, and Sherlock could only stare back. He had a dozen questions he wanted to ask, but all of them would have to wait.
Ryan crossed back to John and helped him to his feet. "I'm so sorry we neglected you."
"It's fine, actually. This wasn't about me." And there it was again, that selflessness that Sherlock would not have believed would be important in sex, and yet it apparently was -- at least, it was to John.
"We're not going to leave you wanting," Ryan replied, and he tugged John toward the sofa with a wicked grin on his face.
John nearly fell back against it, settling in the center between Ryan and Annie, and then Ryan curled up at his side. He wrapped one hand around John's erection and gave it a long slow stroke up. John's head fell back against the sofa; the expression on his face was a blend of surprise and pleasure. Annie grinned and settled back into her corner of the sofa to watch as Ryan leaned in to whisper something into John's ear.
John responded, but Sherlock somehow didn't hear the words. He could only watch in a strange sort of fog as Ryan kissed his way up John's neck and stroked his cock. John's hands clenched into fists at his sides and his mouth fell open when Ryan's hand twisted a bit, and then John turned his head and their lips crushed together. Ryan's hand began to move faster and oh God, John was actually having sex with Ryan.
It was far too close to things Sherlock had fantasized about for him to be able to remain impassive. In fact, it was better than most of his fantasies had been because it was real and it was right here in front of him. Now he knew precisely how John would look getting a hand job from a rather fit bloke, knew exactly how he would spread his thighs and push his hips up into that grip, how he would whimper into his lover's mouth when he started to get close. None of this was ever going to be erased from his mind.
And oh, oh. If John would do this, he would probably accept oral sex from a man as well, wouldn't he? The image sent a shiver through Sherlock's body, and God, he was getting hard just thinking about it. He'd hoped John would be open to sex with men, but he hadn't really believed it would happen until now.
"Close," John gasped and Ryan's strokes on his cock shifted to short, quick jerks. It was only a few moments more before John began to cry out and thrust up into his fist. Ryan's expression was fierce as he watched John's face, and though Sherlock had certainly seen John have an orgasm before, this one sounded different, felt different, was completely different in a way he'd have to carefully analyze later. Or perhaps it was all in his head; he was hardly able to be objective at the moment.
Ryan kissed him afterwards and John kissed him back, and neither of them seemed to want to stop. And there it was again -- something completely unexpected. The sex was over, but they were still clinging to each other, kissing like they'd only just begun. It was one of the hottest things Sherlock had ever seen, and he couldn't look away. He was beyond observation, beyond collecting any data. There would likely be something salvageable from this night, but at the moment, he found he didn't care. He just wanted to sit here and watch, and maybe toss off quietly while no one was looking.
Annie finally broke the near-silence. "So fucking gorgeous. If I weren't utterly spent I could sit here and wank just watching you two."
John laughed at that, pulling out of the kiss to look over at Sherlock. The moment their eyes met, John's expression changed to one of surprise -- he could probably see every bit of what Sherlock had been thinking on his face.
Oh God, if John found this too weird, what would happen? He'd probably put a stop to the experiment and they'd move on with their lives, and pretend this last week hadn't happened at all. Sherlock looked away, suddenly flustered. He didn't want this to be over yet, didn't want it to stop. And it wasn't just the experiment, that much was clear. He enjoyed this game they were playing, this strange game in which he played with John like a puppet, made him have sex with people Sherlock chose. And every time John did exactly what was asked of him, without question or even much hesitation. For fuck's sake, who did that? Sherlock closed his eyes and exhaled.
This was why he didn't do this. He didn't have these kinds of relationships with people because this was how completely twisted he was. He could be completely happy continuing like this indefinitely, putting John into stranger and more intense sexual scenes, but it was inevitable that at some point John would draw the line, would say, No, I'm done with this, and by the way, you're a complete freak, so fuck you.
Because this wasn't what people did, and Sherlock knew that well. It certainly wasn't what John did. John went on dates with women and thought distantly that he might like to get married one day, maybe even have children. Sherlock wasn't part of that equation, and he never would be.
"Shit, it's nearly midnight," Annie said.
"I totally lost track of time," Ryan said, and the two of them began scrambling to get dressed. Sherlock didn't watch them and couldn't bring himself to look at John either.
The probability that this would end badly was quite high. He was risking his friendship with John, perhaps even damaging it irreparably already, and for what? For an experiment that had consumed him for the last week -- not even a week, five days -- which had certainly given him a wealth of data to collect and analyze, which had changed his perception of the value of masturbation completely. But none of that was worth losing John.
"Thank you!" Annie said, dashing through the door.
"Of course," John replied. He stood and began to gather his clothes, and Sherlock could feel the moment John paused to look at him, concern radiating from him. Sherlock didn't look back.
Ryan crossed to John and Sherlock glanced up just in time to see him kiss John once again. "Thank you. It was amazing." He smiled and then headed out the door, and John watched him go with a surprisingly fond expression on his face.
Sherlock stared at him, trying to understand what had happened here. His entire understanding of John had been turned on its head tonight. He'd had no indication until now that John was sexually interested in men, at least not beyond the occasional flirtatious glances and hints of attraction. There was a lot of space between finding a person attractive and actually having sex with him, and John had crossed that distance surprisingly willingly and without a hint of regret.
Did that mean he might be open to some of the other things Sherlock wanted to do? Oh God, why was he letting himself think about this?
"Are you all right?" John was watching him with an expression of concern. He was shirtless and barefooted, but he'd put his trousers back on at some point.
Sherlock stared at him for a long moment. He had no idea how to answer that question. In some ways no, he was so fucking not all right, and he never would be again, not now that he knew even more clearly what he wanted and how unlikely it was that he would ever get it. But in other ways, this was the best thing that had happened to him in quite a long time. The feeling he got from watching John these last few nights, from watching him accept the situations Sherlock put him in and then respond so beautifully, so perfectly -- it rivaled the way he felt when he'd solved a case. It was different, but just as intense. And honestly, very few cases had ever left him with an erection and an intense need to bury said erection in his fist.
John's expression had grown even more concerned, and Sherlock realized he hadn't answered him. He blinked and nodded. "Yes, of course."
"Because you seem a bit--"
"I'm fine," he said, a bit more forcefully than he'd intended. He wasn't fine, not by a long shot, and though he usually had no trouble lying to John, he found he couldn't quite look him in the eye when he said it. "We're done for the night, so whenever you're dressed, we'll go."
"All right." John pulled his shirt on and buttoned it, then pulled his jumper over his head, and kept his eyes fixed on Sherlock. It was completely unnerving, and Sherlock finally couldn't stand it. He stood and paced before the door.
At last John was completely dressed. "I'm ready."
Sherlock turned to look at him. John was still concerned, but he was also slightly wary. Perhaps he wasn't sure he wanted to know what had Sherlock so wound up. Or perhaps he'd worked it out and his concern was more for himself than for Sherlock. Sherlock could hardly blame him for that.
John smiled and smoothed out his expression in that way that generally meant, Stop trying to read me, you twat. Sherlock felt an irrational wave of fondness for him.
He opened the door. "Let's go home."
John followed him through the door and up the stairs, then out of the club into the street. They were silent during the taxi ride to Baker Street, and remained silent as they climbed the stairs to the flat.
"I'm doubly beat tonight," John said, stifling a yawn. "Good night."
"Good night," Sherlock repeated and headed to his own bedroom before he could be tempted to watch John walk up the stairs. His head was spinning, his thoughts a storm in his mind, and he fell face-first onto his bed. He listened to John's footsteps overhead, waited for him to cross to the wardrobe, dig out pyjamas, change. His mental image of the scene was perfectly accurate; he heard John's footsteps descending the stairs right on cue. He listened as he walked to the bathroom, pissed, flushed, turned on the tap for 45 seconds exactly, and then headed back up the stairs. There was silence, then a creak of the mattress, and then silence again.
Sherlock rolled onto his back and stared up into the darkness, up to the spot where John was directly above him. Three seconds passed before the storm began to crackle in his brain again.
He unfastened his trousers and shoved a hand inside his pants, and let the images from tonight float to the forefront. He'd intended to do it quickly, but once he replayed the scenes in his head he found he wanted to take his time, to savor them all, to pay attention to the details he'd missed.
When he finally allowed himself to think about John kissing Ryan, the way they clung to each other, the sight of Ryan's hand slowly stroking John's cock -- his own hand stroked faster, changing the pressure in the way he'd learned he liked best. He lost control over the film playing in his head after that. It became a blend of images of John and Ryan, then John in other positions, with faceless men touching him sucking him, fucking him, and then, just as Lana had suggested, he thought about pushing John down against one of those black leather sofas and sinking balls-deep into him. He came within seconds, staring up at the ceiling with his mouth open and trying desperately not to make a sound.
He closed his eyes and relaxed into the endorphin rush, listening to his own breathing begin to even out again. His thoughts weren't swirling anymore -- it turned out that a good orgasm was a sort of a reset button for his brain -- and they began to settle themselves into the appropriate bins, awaiting further analysis.
He stared up at the ceiling. Even if John ultimately left him, he would at least have learned this. And he knew John would leave him eventually. It was inevitable.
He sat up and reached for a tissue to clean off his hand, and stood to shed his trousers. Time to get to work.
*****
Note: I'm traveling right now and may not have time to respond quickly to comments. But I still appreciate them very much, so thank you in advance for any you are inclined to leave! :-)
Author: Emma Grant
Fandom/Pairing: Sherlock BBC, John/Sherlock, John/others
Index of all missing and alternate scenes
Alternate scene 2.3
Rating: NC-17
Length: 5880 words
Summary: Set during chapter 2. Sherlock's POV of the scene with Annie and Ryan.
Alternate link: AO3
At the top of the stairs Sherlock turned toward the bar. He signaled to the bartender, who nodded and immediately began pulling a pint of Stella Artois. Apparently they were regulars now, given that the bartender knew their order on sight. He turned to John with an amused smile, but John wasn't next to him. He stood several yards away, eyes narrowed in confusion.
Ah, of course. John had expected to go home now, hadn't he? Sherlock had forgotten to mention that the night wasn't over quite yet.
The bartender returned with a pint of Stella and a discreet, "I'll put it on your tab, shall I?"
He expected to receive an obnoxious text from Mycroft about the bar tab in the morning, though honestly they could be drinking quite a lot more than they were. Sherlock nodded at the bartender and
beckoned John with a wave of his hand.
"What's this?" The expression on John's face was one Sherlock was rather fond of, and one he saw far too infrequently: pure skepticism.
"A pint of Stella. I recall it's one of your favorites." He held out the glass and John took it, his expression settling into something closer to wariness.
"Oh. Thanks. We do have beer at home, you know."
"We're not going home just yet. Ah, I forgot to ask: would you say your refractory period is about half an hour?"
The surprise on John's face was a reward in itself; Sherlock had begun to doubt he could shock him so forcefully anymore. "My what?"
"That's what I've assumed from observation of your masturbation habits, but I thought I should probably ask."
John could only stare at him for a several seconds, apparently having been rendered speechless. At last he blinked and shook his head, the I can't fucking believe this clear on his face. "We're not done tonight?"
"No. I realized the pace of data collection could be increased significantly and I've made arrangements for another encounter in--" He paused to dig his phone from his trouser pocket and thumbed it on. "--twenty-five minutes. Will that be enough time?"
"Oh my God." John leaned back against the bar and drank a good fourth of the beer. He didn't look entirely pleased by the prospect.
"If not, I can ask them to wait a bit. At least, I think I can." Rescheduling this one might be out of the question, and he'd been looking forward to seeing John in a threesome. Well, another threesome. One involving a man, if he was completely honest with himself.
John hesitated a moment more before an expression of tired resignation settled on his face. "Okay."
"Good." Sherlock frowned slightly even as the word left his lips. John was clearly reluctant and Sherlock felt uneasy about that.
But he hadn't said no, had he? John had been the one who'd insisted on honesty, and if he didn't want to proceed, Sherlock was fairly certain he'd simply refuse. John usually didn't mince words with Sherlock. His brutal honesty and fearlessness about telling Sherlock exactly what he was thinking were two of his most endearing qualities. Well, perhaps not most endearing. The list of qualities John possessed that endeared him to Sherlock was quite long indeed. He hadn't ranked them in a while -- perhaps that was a list to be revisited in light of new data. For example, John's surprising willingness to play the role of Sherlock's boyfriend in public for the purposes of this experiment, despite his typically negative reaction to anyone thinking they were a couple, was something to add to the list.
John sighed, and Sherlock realized they were standing much too far apart for a couple. They seemed to be keeping up appearances quite well, but it was best to be on the safe side. He leaned closer and slid an arm around John's waist and John's body briefly stiffened against him before relaxing again. The arm not holding the pint glass snaked around Sherlock's waist in return, a warm hand settling against Sherlock's hip as John focused his gaze on the crowd and raised his pint glass to his lips again.
Sherlock watched him for a moment, smiling fondly in case anyone was looking. He didn't usually enjoy this sort of physical proximity with other people, but somehow he didn't mind it at the moment. John felt comfortable against him, warm and solid. And John understood him, as much as any human being could do. John understood this, at any rate, and that pleased Sherlock more than he'd previously realized. The arrangement was working out rather nicely indeed.
They watched the crowd in silence for twenty minutes. John didn't look at Sherlock, not even when Sherlock spent an entire minute studying his profile. He kept his gaze focused on the crowd, occasionally lifting his glass to sip his beer, and seemed lost in thought. He wasn't worried, nor was he particularly nervous -- both of those emotions were fairly easy to read. Rather, he seemed calm, with a touch of quiet anticipation. He hadn't asked what was coming, hadn't even hinted that he wanted to know. Did he enjoy this game that much, or was it that he trusted Sherlock completely? No amount of staring at him helped answer the question.
"Ready?" Sherlock asked when the time came for their next meeting.
John nodded and turned to put his empty pint glass on the bar. Sherlock steered him towards the door with a slight touch to his lower back. John stopped at the door and waited for Sherlock to walk through it before following him down the stairs.
John was silent the entire walk down; in fact, he hadn't said a word in nearly half an hour. Sherlock paused before the door of room four and turned to him. His expression was almost solemn, as if he was steeling himself for whatever he might find on the other side. Sherlock hesitated a moment more. He liked John silent and at the mercy of his partners, but in this particular case that might not be the best approach.
"The rules about talking and touching will be suspended for this session, by the way."
John turned to look at him, surprised. "Okay. Should I bother to ask why?"
"No."
"I don't suppose you've ever seen 'Behind the Green Door', have you?"
He shifted quickly through the list of film titles in his mind, but nothing registered. "No. Why?"
"No reason. Forget I mentioned it. Ready when you are."
As if he'd be able to forget that title now, as obviously connected to John's experience as it was. He'd find a way to watch it as soon as possible. He didn't bother knocking; he opened the door and gestured John inside. John started forward and then Sherlock walked right into him -- he'd stopped in the doorway.
"So sorry," John said to the couple wrapped around each other on the sofa. "We must have the wrong--"
Sherlock smirked and gave John a small shove from behind. He stumbled forward as the couple on the sofa looked up at them and grinned.
"You're in the right place, darling," the woman said.
Sherlock closed the door and leaned back against it, watching. The woman and her husband were staring at John, apparently pleased with what they saw. John seemed frozen to the spot. Sherlock crossed to stand beside him.
"Should we do introductions?" the man asked.
John turned to look at Sherlock, his expression carefully guarded. Sherlock stared back at him for a split second before realizing that John was waiting for him to answer the question. Even though he'd given John permission to speak, he was still deferring to Sherlock. That was fascinating, but there was no time to think on it now; he filed it away for later reflection and turned to smile at the naked couple on the sofa.
"I'm Ryan," the man said as he settled back on the sofa. He was very good-looking and he was completely unconcerned about his own nudity. He spread his thighs in what was nearly an invitation, and Sherlock's eyes flicked down to what was between them of their own accord. He looked up to see Ryan looking back at him with a heated expression. Sherlock's lips twisted into a smile and he turned to look at John. John looked as if he wanted to disappear into the floor.
The woman sitting next to Ryan giggled and he tilted his head toward her. "This is my wife, Annie."
Annie's eyes were focused on John, nearly leering at him, but Ryan's gaze was on Sherlock. His eyebrows rose slightly and Sherlock felt an odd twinge in his gut. He allowed himself another moment of staring back, not guarding against the heat he felt before he looked away again. He recognized it as attraction, of course, but it was unusual for him to feel it like this. He generally only noticed that people were attractive in a general, theoretical sort of way. He'd spent so many years keeping himself at a distance from almost everyone around him that he hadn't opened himself to the possibility of attraction to a stranger.
It was especially odd to find himself attracted to someone who may well be about to have sex with his boyfriend. Well, no, not his boyfriend, his flatmate, whom he was pretending was his boyfriend for this experiment. Or rather, they were both pretending to be a couple for the experiment. Or whatever. Anyway.
He forced a smile. "I'm Sherlock and this is John."
"Hi." John sounded as uncertain as Sherlock had ever heard him. "Nice to meet you."
Ryan and Annie grinned at him, apparently finding his hesitance charming. "Thanks for meeting us on such short notice," Ryan said. "We've been trying to set this up for a while."
"Of course." Sherlock stepped in behind John and slid one arm around his waist, a gesture he hoped appeared comforting. Any actual comforting it might provide would also be beneficial at the moment. "This is going to be right up John's street, I think."
John leaned back against him and Sherlock could feel how tense he was. For all Sherlock knew, this was normal -- perhaps John was typically this tense before a scene. After all, he never quite knew what was going to happen. And of course, this time there was a man involved and that might change the entire equation. Sherlock clenched his jaw in frustration, realizing he'd missed an opportunity to find out if John's physical response at this point was different when there were only women involved. It may be an important point, depending on how things went tonight. It might have been his only chance to collect data on that particular variable, dammit.
There was nothing for it now, though. He swallowed down his frustration and forced himself to focus on John once again. John was pressing his shoulders into Sherlock's chest as if drawing strength from him. Did he find physical contact with Sherlock comforting? That was an interesting idea in itself. He decided to test it a bit.
"Relax," he whispered. One hand was already pressed against John's belly and it was easy enough to slide it upwards, stroking his chest. The response was immediate: he felt John relax against him and even shiver slightly. What else would someone do to comfort a partner in such a situation? He looked down to see a tantalizing stretch of skin along John's neck, and it was easy enough to dip his head down and plant a soft kiss there.
There was a sharp intake of breath, and it was a moment before he realized it had come from John. John's head fell back against his shoulder and his eyes closed, and Sherlock realized with a start that he wasn't acting. That response was real: Sherlock had kissed him and John had liked it, perhaps even involuntarily. It was a strangely powerful feeling, one he wasn't sure he'd felt before in his life. Had anyone ever whimpered in pleasure when he'd kissed them like that? If he did it again, what would John do?
He looked up to see that Annie and Ryan were watching, waiting. He unwound his arm from John and gave him a firm push towards them before he could be tempted to kiss John again. John walked several steps toward the sofa and Annie rose to meet him.
"You're completely adorable," she said just before she kissed him. He stood still for two seconds before his arms went around her and he pulled her against him. John's back was to Sherlock, but it was clear that Annie was melting in his arms.
Sherlock glanced at Ryan, who was watching the kiss with a sort of detached interest. He didn't appear jealous or even concerned; he was simply watching his wife kiss another man as if it was a completely normal event in his life. Ryan's eyes darted to Sherlock's then as if he'd realized he was being watched. He gave Sherlock a wry smile.
"You're a bloody good kisser," Annie said, pulling away from John, and Ryan's gaze turned back to the two of them. "Time to get undressed."
John pulled off his clothes with more enthusiasm than usual. Annie took them piece by piece and folded them carefully, setting them aside.
Two children, ages between six and ten, at least one a boy. She opened the drawer of the room's small supply table and pulled out a few small packets before turning back to John.
"Thanks," John said, and she dropped to her knees. Sherlock couldn't see what she was doing, but from the way John's shoulders tightened and then relaxed again, he could guess.
"Let me help with this," she said, and then John's trousers and pants were tugged down to his ankles.
Ryan stood then and crossed to John with a hint of a smirk on his face, and John visibly tensed. Sherlock bit the inside of his lip, uncertain exactly what would happen next. He'd told Annie and Ryan the same cover story he'd told the others, that they were a couple, Sherlock was gay, John was bisexual, and that Sherlock enjoyed sharing him. John knew the cover story, and so he presumably knew this particular scenario was a possibility. He hadn't told Sherlock that involving a man was off-limits. In fact, he hadn't declared anything off-limits as of yet.
Ryan moved to stand beside John and reached out to brush his fingers against John's cheek. John turned toward him, his expression guarded but clearly showing interest as well.
"You are adorable, you know," Ryan said, and he leaned in to kiss John.
Sherlock held his breath for a moment, stunned by the sight of John's lips pressed against another man's. John didn't pull away and he didn't look troubled or hesitant. In fact, after a few seconds had passed, just as he'd done with Annie, he grasped Ryan's arms and pulled him tightly against him.
Sherlock assumed Ryan had positioned himself beside John intentionally, to force him to turn and provide Sherlock with a better view. It was quite a lovely view: John had a firm grip on Ryan's biceps and Ryan's hands were on John's hips, and they seemed to be clinging to each other for support. Ryan had a slight height advantage, but John was clearly the one in control of the kiss.
It was an odd thing to watch. Kissing as presented in films and on television was always rather neat and tidy, but passionate kissing in real life was messy, with open mouths pressed together and brief glimpses of tongue and teeth as one person or another shifted. It looked a bit as if they were trying to devour each other simultaneously, and yet it still somehow appeared erotic, for a reason Sherlock couldn't quite surmise.
Both of them had erections now, which apparently drew Annie like a moth to flame. She tapped Ryan on the shoulder and he pulled out of the kiss with a whimper.
"Fucking hell, you're an amazing kisser," Ryan said before working his mouth down John's neck. He paused to lick at the same spot Sherlock had kissed earlier, and John groaned. Sherlock frowned: perhaps he didn't have any sort of magical effect on John after all. He'd just been lucky enough to hit an especially sensitive spot on the first try.
Annie dropped to her knees with a condom packet in her hand. Sherlock saw her pop the condom in her mouth before she grasped the base of John's prick and took it deeply into her mouth in one smooth movement. John whimpered under this onslaught from the two of them, apparently caught completely by surprise. When Annie pulled off, Sherlock saw that the condom had been neatly rolled onto him.
"You have to show me how to do that," John said.
Annie provided a demonstration on Ryan while John watched -- no observed, the difference was clear -- and Sherlock could only gape at him, because once again, it was obvious that he wasn't acting. With the exception of situations in which he was required to play a military or medical part, John was a terrible actor. He was too honest for his own good much of the time. But now he was practically asking Annie for blow job tips, just after snogging her husband speechless. Sherlock was going to have to revise his understanding of John's sexual orientation considerably.
Ryan pulled John into another kiss then and Annie took both of their cocks in hand and stroked them together a few times before backing away to spread a blanket on the floor. John was nearly wrapped around Ryan now, looking like he'd forgotten there was a woman in the room at all.
Fuck, that was... Sherlock blinked hard. Focus.
John looked fairly debauched by the time Annie pried them apart to position them on the floor. Sherlock settled into a chair by the door to watch. She'd helpfully positioned John in such a way that Sherlock would be able to see him rather well the entire time. She slicked her hand with lube, gave him a few quick strokes, and then straddled him and sank onto his cock. John's eyes fluttered closed briefly before he grinned up at her. Ryan pressed two lubed fingers into Annie's arse and began working them in and out slowly.
She whispered something to John and he rose up enough to kiss her. Ryan watched them for a moment before turning to wink at Sherlock.
"Ready?" Ryan asked, as much to Sherlock as to everyone else.
"Ready," Annie replied. Ryan shifted onto his knees and steadied her hips with one hand while guiding his penis with the other. He pressed forward slowly and Sherlock's gaze shifted to her face. She was calm and relaxed, and it was nothing like his own admittedly limited experience with being in that position. He still resented being told, "You just have to relax, it's not supposed to hurt, you git," and despite what he'd seen in porn, he hadn't quite believed the experience could be entirely pleasant until this moment.
John seemed to have held the same opinion; he now stared up at Annie with an expression almost like awe on his face. Ryan took his time pressing in and then waited, his hands stroking Annie's back. The two of them knew each other's bodies well; even when there was a third person involved they worked as a team. It was fascinating. Sherlock wondered if they'd let him study them as well.
"All right," Annie said after thirty seconds of silence. Did that amount waiting help? It must do.
She began to move, shifting herself forward slowly. John and Ryan both reacted instantly to the movement, their faces showing almost the same expression of pleasure. Ryan scrambled into an awkward sort of crouch and John remained completely still, and both of them were completely focused on Annie.
They finally seemed to find a way to move together that felt good to everyone and dislodged no one, and that was when the situation became truly fascinating to watch. They were all at different places on their own trajectories to orgasm, but it was clear that John and Ryan intended Annie to get there first. Ryan was intensely focused on his wife's movements, John was watching her face carefully while moving his fingers between her thighs, and Annie was clearly losing herself in the moment.
Several minutes passed and the intensity of their movements grew steadily. At last Annie arched up, nearly knocking Ryan over backwards, and her eyes squeezed shut as she began to cry out. John looked up at her in wonder and then caught her as she collapsed against his chest, moaning incoherently.
Ryan seemed to struggle for a moment, and Sherlock realized that he had nearly lost control during her orgasm. When it was clear she was finished, he leaned over her, pressing her into John, and moved with quick shallow strokes.
"Oh shit, oh fuck, that's good, that's--" and then his words melted into groans. He shivered and pressed his forehead into Annie's back and stilled. The three of them remained in a pile for a moment, their breathing still ragged.
It was a moment before Sherlock realized John hadn't come. He didn't seem unhappy about it, though; he had his arms around Annie and was grinning up at the ceiling. At last Ryan pulled out of Annie and snapped the condom off before retrieving a dressing gown and wrapping it around her as he helped her to her feet. He pulled her into an embrace and they kissed.
Sherlock's eyes moved back to John, who was currently pressing his hands over his face. His erection still jutted up from his body, but he didn't seem concerned about it. He dropped his hands and looked over at where Ryan was positioning Annie on the sofa, and smiled.
Sherlock watched him, fascinated by this turn of events. Sexual gratification had always struck him as an inherently selfish act, whether completed alone or with a partner. In the end it was about getting off, and while it was true that helping the other person get off might increase one's chances of orgasm, in Sherlock's own (again, limited) experience, it seemed that achieving orgasm was ultimately the goal of the entire enterprise. Except that John seemed completely unconcerned that he hadn't.
John sat up and looked over at him, and Sherlock could only stare back. He had a dozen questions he wanted to ask, but all of them would have to wait.
Ryan crossed back to John and helped him to his feet. "I'm so sorry we neglected you."
"It's fine, actually. This wasn't about me." And there it was again, that selflessness that Sherlock would not have believed would be important in sex, and yet it apparently was -- at least, it was to John.
"We're not going to leave you wanting," Ryan replied, and he tugged John toward the sofa with a wicked grin on his face.
John nearly fell back against it, settling in the center between Ryan and Annie, and then Ryan curled up at his side. He wrapped one hand around John's erection and gave it a long slow stroke up. John's head fell back against the sofa; the expression on his face was a blend of surprise and pleasure. Annie grinned and settled back into her corner of the sofa to watch as Ryan leaned in to whisper something into John's ear.
John responded, but Sherlock somehow didn't hear the words. He could only watch in a strange sort of fog as Ryan kissed his way up John's neck and stroked his cock. John's hands clenched into fists at his sides and his mouth fell open when Ryan's hand twisted a bit, and then John turned his head and their lips crushed together. Ryan's hand began to move faster and oh God, John was actually having sex with Ryan.
It was far too close to things Sherlock had fantasized about for him to be able to remain impassive. In fact, it was better than most of his fantasies had been because it was real and it was right here in front of him. Now he knew precisely how John would look getting a hand job from a rather fit bloke, knew exactly how he would spread his thighs and push his hips up into that grip, how he would whimper into his lover's mouth when he started to get close. None of this was ever going to be erased from his mind.
And oh, oh. If John would do this, he would probably accept oral sex from a man as well, wouldn't he? The image sent a shiver through Sherlock's body, and God, he was getting hard just thinking about it. He'd hoped John would be open to sex with men, but he hadn't really believed it would happen until now.
"Close," John gasped and Ryan's strokes on his cock shifted to short, quick jerks. It was only a few moments more before John began to cry out and thrust up into his fist. Ryan's expression was fierce as he watched John's face, and though Sherlock had certainly seen John have an orgasm before, this one sounded different, felt different, was completely different in a way he'd have to carefully analyze later. Or perhaps it was all in his head; he was hardly able to be objective at the moment.
Ryan kissed him afterwards and John kissed him back, and neither of them seemed to want to stop. And there it was again -- something completely unexpected. The sex was over, but they were still clinging to each other, kissing like they'd only just begun. It was one of the hottest things Sherlock had ever seen, and he couldn't look away. He was beyond observation, beyond collecting any data. There would likely be something salvageable from this night, but at the moment, he found he didn't care. He just wanted to sit here and watch, and maybe toss off quietly while no one was looking.
Annie finally broke the near-silence. "So fucking gorgeous. If I weren't utterly spent I could sit here and wank just watching you two."
John laughed at that, pulling out of the kiss to look over at Sherlock. The moment their eyes met, John's expression changed to one of surprise -- he could probably see every bit of what Sherlock had been thinking on his face.
Oh God, if John found this too weird, what would happen? He'd probably put a stop to the experiment and they'd move on with their lives, and pretend this last week hadn't happened at all. Sherlock looked away, suddenly flustered. He didn't want this to be over yet, didn't want it to stop. And it wasn't just the experiment, that much was clear. He enjoyed this game they were playing, this strange game in which he played with John like a puppet, made him have sex with people Sherlock chose. And every time John did exactly what was asked of him, without question or even much hesitation. For fuck's sake, who did that? Sherlock closed his eyes and exhaled.
This was why he didn't do this. He didn't have these kinds of relationships with people because this was how completely twisted he was. He could be completely happy continuing like this indefinitely, putting John into stranger and more intense sexual scenes, but it was inevitable that at some point John would draw the line, would say, No, I'm done with this, and by the way, you're a complete freak, so fuck you.
Because this wasn't what people did, and Sherlock knew that well. It certainly wasn't what John did. John went on dates with women and thought distantly that he might like to get married one day, maybe even have children. Sherlock wasn't part of that equation, and he never would be.
"Shit, it's nearly midnight," Annie said.
"I totally lost track of time," Ryan said, and the two of them began scrambling to get dressed. Sherlock didn't watch them and couldn't bring himself to look at John either.
The probability that this would end badly was quite high. He was risking his friendship with John, perhaps even damaging it irreparably already, and for what? For an experiment that had consumed him for the last week -- not even a week, five days -- which had certainly given him a wealth of data to collect and analyze, which had changed his perception of the value of masturbation completely. But none of that was worth losing John.
"Thank you!" Annie said, dashing through the door.
"Of course," John replied. He stood and began to gather his clothes, and Sherlock could feel the moment John paused to look at him, concern radiating from him. Sherlock didn't look back.
Ryan crossed to John and Sherlock glanced up just in time to see him kiss John once again. "Thank you. It was amazing." He smiled and then headed out the door, and John watched him go with a surprisingly fond expression on his face.
Sherlock stared at him, trying to understand what had happened here. His entire understanding of John had been turned on its head tonight. He'd had no indication until now that John was sexually interested in men, at least not beyond the occasional flirtatious glances and hints of attraction. There was a lot of space between finding a person attractive and actually having sex with him, and John had crossed that distance surprisingly willingly and without a hint of regret.
Did that mean he might be open to some of the other things Sherlock wanted to do? Oh God, why was he letting himself think about this?
"Are you all right?" John was watching him with an expression of concern. He was shirtless and barefooted, but he'd put his trousers back on at some point.
Sherlock stared at him for a long moment. He had no idea how to answer that question. In some ways no, he was so fucking not all right, and he never would be again, not now that he knew even more clearly what he wanted and how unlikely it was that he would ever get it. But in other ways, this was the best thing that had happened to him in quite a long time. The feeling he got from watching John these last few nights, from watching him accept the situations Sherlock put him in and then respond so beautifully, so perfectly -- it rivaled the way he felt when he'd solved a case. It was different, but just as intense. And honestly, very few cases had ever left him with an erection and an intense need to bury said erection in his fist.
John's expression had grown even more concerned, and Sherlock realized he hadn't answered him. He blinked and nodded. "Yes, of course."
"Because you seem a bit--"
"I'm fine," he said, a bit more forcefully than he'd intended. He wasn't fine, not by a long shot, and though he usually had no trouble lying to John, he found he couldn't quite look him in the eye when he said it. "We're done for the night, so whenever you're dressed, we'll go."
"All right." John pulled his shirt on and buttoned it, then pulled his jumper over his head, and kept his eyes fixed on Sherlock. It was completely unnerving, and Sherlock finally couldn't stand it. He stood and paced before the door.
At last John was completely dressed. "I'm ready."
Sherlock turned to look at him. John was still concerned, but he was also slightly wary. Perhaps he wasn't sure he wanted to know what had Sherlock so wound up. Or perhaps he'd worked it out and his concern was more for himself than for Sherlock. Sherlock could hardly blame him for that.
John smiled and smoothed out his expression in that way that generally meant, Stop trying to read me, you twat. Sherlock felt an irrational wave of fondness for him.
He opened the door. "Let's go home."
John followed him through the door and up the stairs, then out of the club into the street. They were silent during the taxi ride to Baker Street, and remained silent as they climbed the stairs to the flat.
"I'm doubly beat tonight," John said, stifling a yawn. "Good night."
"Good night," Sherlock repeated and headed to his own bedroom before he could be tempted to watch John walk up the stairs. His head was spinning, his thoughts a storm in his mind, and he fell face-first onto his bed. He listened to John's footsteps overhead, waited for him to cross to the wardrobe, dig out pyjamas, change. His mental image of the scene was perfectly accurate; he heard John's footsteps descending the stairs right on cue. He listened as he walked to the bathroom, pissed, flushed, turned on the tap for 45 seconds exactly, and then headed back up the stairs. There was silence, then a creak of the mattress, and then silence again.
Sherlock rolled onto his back and stared up into the darkness, up to the spot where John was directly above him. Three seconds passed before the storm began to crackle in his brain again.
He unfastened his trousers and shoved a hand inside his pants, and let the images from tonight float to the forefront. He'd intended to do it quickly, but once he replayed the scenes in his head he found he wanted to take his time, to savor them all, to pay attention to the details he'd missed.
When he finally allowed himself to think about John kissing Ryan, the way they clung to each other, the sight of Ryan's hand slowly stroking John's cock -- his own hand stroked faster, changing the pressure in the way he'd learned he liked best. He lost control over the film playing in his head after that. It became a blend of images of John and Ryan, then John in other positions, with faceless men touching him sucking him, fucking him, and then, just as Lana had suggested, he thought about pushing John down against one of those black leather sofas and sinking balls-deep into him. He came within seconds, staring up at the ceiling with his mouth open and trying desperately not to make a sound.
He closed his eyes and relaxed into the endorphin rush, listening to his own breathing begin to even out again. His thoughts weren't swirling anymore -- it turned out that a good orgasm was a sort of a reset button for his brain -- and they began to settle themselves into the appropriate bins, awaiting further analysis.
He stared up at the ceiling. Even if John ultimately left him, he would at least have learned this. And he knew John would leave him eventually. It was inevitable.
He sat up and reached for a tissue to clean off his hand, and stood to shed his trousers. Time to get to work.
*****
Note: I'm traveling right now and may not have time to respond quickly to comments. But I still appreciate them very much, so thank you in advance for any you are inclined to leave! :-)
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Date: 2012-05-23 03:03 pm (UTC)I loved this: "Well, no, not his boyfriend, his flatmate, whom he was pretending was his boyfriend for this experiment. Or rather, they were both pretending to be a couple for the experiment." because it shows how everything is becoming a bit muddled, even for Sherlock - and that's saying something! He's very clearly losing his objectivity - he even notices it explicitly at one point - and I love how he does pick up how worrisome that is. Want to hug him so much for thinking this over and how it's not worth losing John to get a grip on this experiment.
LOVE his shock at John being a secret bisexual. Love it mostly because John didn't know it, either!
God there's so much more but I'm sitting outside and my battery is about to die, so this is for now and I might come back to say more :D
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Date: 2012-05-24 11:53 pm (UTC)I love the idea of Sherlock thinking he has John all figured out at various points in this fic, and then having the rug pulled out from under him repeatedly. ;-)
Thanks so much, as always!
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Date: 2012-05-23 03:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-24 11:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-23 03:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-25 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-23 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-25 01:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-23 04:38 pm (UTC)And now we see Sherlock's thoughts toward John and how he continues to read him and how much he admires the qualities of this amazingly wonderful, open and giving man who is his flatmate and partner. Just as John marvels at Sherlock's deductive genius, Sherlock is so in awe of John's kindness, openness, courage, and caring. It is so lovely to see the genius of John appreciated through Sherlock's eyes.
I love seeing Sherlock lose focus and objectivity when John is with Ryan. I love seeing the wires melt in his brain as he gets distracted by John's kissing of and responses to Ryan's touches. I love that this consumes Sherlock's brain as much as a good case.
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Date: 2012-05-25 01:57 pm (UTC)I hope I can continue to make it make sense for Sherlock. He's a lot harder to write than John, somehow, and I'm worried that this will get away from me at some point. :-P
BTW, Frankenstein is showing at a theater just up the road from me on the same nights it's showing there, so I think DH and I are going to go here. So excited that I'll be able to see it!
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Date: 2012-05-23 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-25 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2012-05-23 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-26 03:02 am (UTC)Thanks so much!
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Date: 2012-05-24 12:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-26 03:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-24 02:57 am (UTC)Details that I loved: omg, Sherlock has an ranked list of things he likes about John! Sherlock and Ryan are already having silent flirting times! Disappointment at not having a magical kissing effect on John! And Sherlock seems so much more aware than John at this point (or maybe he's just more shocked) that John is having flat out gay sex.
Chapter three was one of my favorite chapters in the original, and so I can't wait until next week.
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Date: 2012-05-26 03:11 am (UTC)That was always in my mind as a motivation for him to keep John at arm's length when I wrote the fic, because there's a point at which it wouldn't make sense for Sherlock not to see how much John wants him, you know? I'm still playing with how angsty that's going to get, heh. Maybe it can be more angsty than what I usually write because everyone already knows how it all ends. ;-)
Sherlock and Ryan are already having silent flirting times!
LOL, yes! I had this idea when writing the original that Sherlock and Ryan had a bit of a spark that John never noticed, which led to them kissing later on. It had to be out of the blue for John, of course, for that scene to work, but it's fun to get to play with it a bit here.
And Sherlock seems so much more aware than John at this point (or maybe he's just more shocked) that John is having flat out gay sex.
John spends a lot of the fic in denial in my mind and really doesn't admit to himself that he's bisexual until pretty late in the game. But to Sherlock, it's much more clear cut, I guess. Probably to the reader too, LOL!
Thanks so much, as always! I appreciate your thoughtful comments so very much. :-)
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Date: 2012-05-24 03:27 am (UTC)I laughed at his muddled brain when he thought "Or whatever. Anyway." Sherlock, is that really you? You sound so...like the rest of us!
I was thrilled by the deduction that Annie has two children! I guess it was the ease with which she folded clothing. How did Sherlock know it wasn't more than two? At least one being a boy, that's good and not mysterious, but how did he know their ages? Was it the difference between the size of John's clothes and the size Annie's hands seemed to expect them to be before she adjusted?
It made me ache with sadness that he doubted the magic of his kiss on John's neck.
At last! He sees John observing rather than seeing! And of course, it's about sex! Sex that John will want to be having with Sherlock! <3 <3 <3
It was truly lovely to see Sherlock learn about the part of sex that is about giving.
It got progressively sadder that sweet lonely Sherlock was convinced that he'd lose John -- ouch, I know that feeling -- but I held on to knowing that he was right, that John really would eventually draw the line. But Sherlock doesn't know yet that it will be a line to include him, not to exclude him...we're at such an advantage, already knowing how the story turns out. I angst, I angst. I love your Sherlock so much. Don't be sad, beautiful genius. You're the most desirable man John has ever met or even dreamed of.
Yearning at the spot above him. That is so hot! And then the way you described his thoughts as the storm crackling! Gorgeous, brilliant stuff.
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Date: 2012-05-26 03:24 am (UTC)There were several versions of that bit before I settled on this one. I finally decided to pull it back because I didn't want him to dwell on it too much, but just sort of mentally correct himself and hten move on. I may read that in a week and wish I hadn't put it there at all, but I do like him to have these little moments where he seems very human. ;-)
Re: the deduction about Annie's kids: There is a bit of author laziness there, I'll admit. In the original, I had her folding John's clothes in a very mom way, and I thought at the time that Sherlock would definitely pick up on that. From there it was just some assumptions about boy vs. girl parenting (like the way she would fold his button-down shirt, which would imply she had a son old enough to wear such clothes) and some hand-waving. It's kind of a fake deduction, to be honest... :-P
It made me ache with sadness that he doubted the magic of his kiss on John's neck.
I know, right? But it sets him up to experiment with that more in the future, to see what effect he can have on John.
It was truly lovely to see Sherlock learn about the part of sex that is about giving.
I was a little worried that I did that too soon, considering that he and John have a big talk about that later on. But then I realized that there are several layers to that that Sherlock doesn't quite get yet, so it still works. I hope!
I'm not usually a fan of angst and don't typically write it, but in this case it's so tempting to load it on because most people who would be reading this already know how the story ends, you know? I'm not too stressed about the timeline for writing these, though, so there's definitely time to work them all out.
Thanks, as always! ♥
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Date: 2012-05-26 03:27 am (UTC)Fake deductions make you a real Sherlock writer. Just like Gatiss and Moffat. :-) Gatiss gloats in commentary about the times they can mention the deductions without explaining them.
It all works. Fanning self, holding my heart together. Yes.
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Date: 2012-05-24 03:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-26 03:27 am (UTC)Thanks for reading!
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Date: 2012-05-24 03:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-26 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-24 03:48 am (UTC)I'll be in my bunk.
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Date: 2012-05-26 03:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-24 04:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-26 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-24 11:26 am (UTC)And poor Sherlock, thinking it's inevitable that John will leave him! :(
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Date: 2012-05-26 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-24 04:19 pm (UTC)It's also interesting to see how you'll end up with the same ending this time around now that Sherlock is having his say.
Again, thank you for your delicious fic.
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Date: 2012-05-26 04:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-05-24 10:26 pm (UTC)An anecdote for you: I, ah, may have e-mailed an AO3 PDF of "A Cure for Boredom" to myself before work yesterday so I could read more of it in Gdocs on my lunch hour. Except I couldn't quite tear myself away from it after lunch and was sneaking glimpses at it on my laptop during a brainstorming meeting yesterday afternoon. At one point, I lost myself a bit in the John/Annie/Ryan scene, dragging myself out only with great difficulty, then looked up at the easel to see that the last thing one of my coworkers had written was "3some." After a mild heart attack, I realized they were talking about a series of three related products, not my secret reading matter. But I was a bit more careful after that, regardless.
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Date: 2012-05-26 04:24 am (UTC)I'm LOLing over you reading this at work. I wrote some of it at work -- while my students were taking an exam, for example. I was fairly easily distracted this semester, heh.
The "3some" thing would have totally thrown me for a loop!
Thanks so much for reading this!
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Date: 2012-05-26 11:20 pm (UTC)Only as of about three weeks ago, when I finally watched all the S1 episodes that had been gathering dust on my DVR for months, and then kicked myself over what I'd been missing. S2 left me completely grabby-hands for fic to read.
Right now, I suspect it's unlikely I'll actually write fic in this fandom. Then again, that's what I said when I started reading Harry Potter fanfic a decade ago, so who knows? ;)
A comment for the whole darn thing:
Date: 2012-05-25 04:57 am (UTC)In fact, I was commenting to a friend just now about a post-Reichenbach fic (and P-R fic in general) and I said just this:
I still have yet to find the perfect one--the one that brings Sherlock back to John in a satisfactory way (which this one mostly does) and then progresses them to a physical relationship in an organic sort of way.
LOL! Actually--Emma's fic does that better than any of the post-fall fics I've read, and it's almost entirely PWP (but not really because of all the depth she goes into to develop character and relationship--she's a master at a PWP with soul). LOL! Can we combine the way she does the psychology of their evolving relationship with a post-fall angst --> reunion piece of loveliness?
Anyway--I just realized that this kind of summed up my thoughts on A Cure For Boredom... and pretty much why I love your writing in general.
:-)
... and now I see that you've actually got a post-reichenbach fic on your journal. Now I'm off to read that :-)
Re: A comment for the whole darn thing:
Date: 2012-05-26 04:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-06-10 05:40 am (UTC)Also, Sherlock really gets off on surprising John, doesn't he? I guess that's something he likes to do, not just with John. He also likes to see people surprised at his deductions, as well. Being unpredictable, mysterious, and surprising seems to be something that Sherlock relishes.
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Date: 2012-08-15 03:50 am (UTC)