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“William Scott?” Sherlock grimaced at his press badge as he fiddled with it between his fingers. “That’s the best my brother could come up with?”
“He thought it’d be easier for you to remember,” Lestrade remarked as he draped the lanyard where his own badge hung over his neck and took a step back when Sherlock leaned in too close to see the name that was printed on it. “Sherlock. Space. We’ve been over this.”
“Of course I can remember it. It’s my name. Which I thought would defeat the purpose of being undercover…” he trailed off slightly as he finally caught a glimpse of the name Greg had been given. “Hm. I suppose a name like ‘Richard Gregson’ isn’t much better. Where the hell did he even get the name ‘Richard’?”
“My father, now will you stop?” Greg swatted Sherlock away when he realized the younger man was sniffing at him. Sherlock wrinkled his nose when he concluded in his head where Greg had been the night before. He rubbed his temples for a moment as if he was physically washing it from his mind. “I’m going with you to keep you focused on the case, not for you to run off on some deductive tangent so you can use it to try to humiliate me.”
“Right… where are we even going? My brother has been awfully quiet about the whole thing.”
“Yes, well… that’s the part that he’s afraid will distract you.” Greg cleared his throat as they were led out onto the tarmac, sighing heavily as he forcibly started to push Sherlock onto the plane.
“What could he possibly think would distract me from work like this? Honestly, does my brother think I’m that flighty? I take this work incredibly serious… what’s this?” He paused as Greg handed him a manila folder as they took their seats and instinctively started to rifle through it.
“Details on the case. I was suppose to give them to you a little bit later, but if it would shut you up, I’ll take the risk.”
“Oh…” Sherlock frowned a bit as he started to look over the contents of the envelope, his eyes moving rapidly as he scanned over all of it. “Oh…” he repeated, frown only setting deeper before he choked a bit and in a final little, breathy exhale escaped him as he realized suddenly why Mycroft had such deep concern over their destination. “….oh.”
John Watson’s first reaction to being yanked out of sight was to elbow whoever it was wrapping their hand around his mouth to keep him from shouting. He paused when he recognized the grunt before he forced himself loose from the slackened grip. “James! What the fuck are you thinking?”
“Apparently, I’m not,” James winced as he rubbed just below his sternum where John’s elbow had connected. “I just needed to speak with you privately.”
“Right this instant? It couldn’t wait?” John panted lightly as he tried to calm the sudden rush of adrenaline resulting from James’ rather unorthodox method of getting his attention.
“I’m on my way to greet two reporters from London. I thought you might want to tag along…”
“And what would give you that idea?” John yanked the two photos from James’ grip as they were offered to him. He didn’t respond as he handed the photos back after a rather long glance. He placed his hands on his hips and dropped his eyes downward, swallowing back the saliva on the tip of his tongue, using it to chase down the heat that threatened to fill him up and drop downwards. James just shot him a knowing smirk.
“The brunette, right?”
“Shut up,” John’s snap is softened by the nervous laugh that followed it, James’ own deep chuckle joining it as he smiled.
“Come on. Why don’t we go meet him?”
The photo that James had been given apparently did absolutely no justice to this William Scott. It had been a little grainy and black and white, and rather poor quality. So neither of them were ready for the intense color of his eyes, the definition his sharp cheekbones gave his face, or the dense, dark curls in his hair that just begged to be handled. John raked his eyes across the young man’s tall, well toned figure and felt something coil deep within him that shot tight pressure into his chest and down to his finger tips. He was vaguely aware of James speaking, his voice white noise to John’s ears that was cleared away when William finally spoke.
“It’s a pleasure,” he remarked in a distant but delicious baritone that struck John delirious. His mind spun as he thought of all the ways he could get that voice to strain in throes of passion – how vulgar it could sound if he was just handed the right chance – what kind of words he could elicit from those prim lips.
He was snapped from his reverie when those eyes shifted towards him as James introduced him as “Captain John Watson”. He watched as the delicate tip of William’s pink tongue darted out across his bottom lip just slightly at the word “captain”. Interesting. John squeezed slightly into the firm handshake that William offered, felt the slight hitch in William’s breath and then let go. Very interesting.
“Well…” William cleared his throat and sucked in another deep breath before squinting into the sun. “It’s good to meet you both. Major… Captain… I’m sure you’ll be hearing from me shortly.”
“We look forward to it,” John remarked, flicking his tongue against his top lip before he offered a rather polite smile. His eyes brightened when he saw William’s ears turn a little pink before both he and the other reporter, Richard, excused themselves, turned, and followed their guide. John smiled as he reached out and squeezed James’ shoulder just as William turned back, smirking as the young man’s head whipped forward, imagining that the pink on his ears had traveled downward and stained those lovely cheekbones red.
“I told you,” James remarked in a sing-song tone before he smirked, shrugging John’s hand off before anyone else would catch notice. “Thoughts?”
“Well… I doubt he’s a reporter… and I don’t think William is his real name.”
“Mmm… no. I’m pretty sure they’re here to investigate a potential problem here at the base… but that’s not at all what I was talking about and you know it.”
John smiled as he inclined his head upwards. “Fine. To put it politely… I want to find every single way to make that man come that I can imagine.”
“That’s putting it politely, hm?” James leaned in and whispered. “Then how about a little friendly competition?” John raised an eyebrow before he turned to face James, eyebrow cocked in interest.
“Go on.”
James stood back to his full height and gestured for John to follow, not willing to loiter too long into one location. “Let’s see who can get to him first.”
John chuckled, shaking his head. “Fine. What’s the prize?”
“I thought I already said that. He is.”
John nodded and held out a hand, which James took in a binding handshake. “You’re on.”
“Oh!” Sherlock jumped when he was knocked away from the little journal he was jotting his notes in by the sound of a chair sliding out from underneath the table. “Oh… Major Sholto. Hello.”
James gave one quick, short wave to negate the formality, “Please, call me James. Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Not at all…” Sherlock gestured to the empty seat that James had already pulled out before James sat down beside him.
“Have you been settling alright?” James offered a smile before he tilted his head, “Or at least… settling as much as you can in a war zone?”
“Um… I’m fine… I mean… I suppose I’m settling… as you said…” Sherlock cleared his throat. “War zone…”
“Mmm… right,” James smirked as he watched Sherlock’s tongue dart out nervously to brush against his bottom lip, much as it did when John had spoke to him earlier. “Well that’s good to hear. I just wanted to check up on you… see how you were doing. Where’s your friend… what was his name?”
“Um… Richard,” Sherlock cleared his throat again as he went back to his notes, his pen just randomly scribbling across the pages as he spoke, “He’s back… um… where we’re staying. Getting some sleep… I… I was just trying to find a quiet place to… think.”
“Well… quiet places are hard to come by, but… I know a few if you really need them…. You’re flushed. You okay?”
“I’m. I’m fine. Thank you,” Sherlock stood up rather quickly, dropping his notes to the floor with a very quiet curse. James smiled as he calmly bent down and picked up the journal, handing it out to him. “Thank you…” Sherlock repeated as he took it carefully, tucking it under his arm as he took a step back. “I… I think I’m going to… um… I’m going…” Sherlock trailed as he pointed towards the exit and started to retreat in that direction.
“It’s dangerous to wander out by yourself at this time… let me come with you.”
“No! No… no. No,” Sherlock coughed into his fist before he dropped his face downwards and shuffled his right foot, shaking his head from side to side, his curls bouncing slightly over his face. He pushed them back before he cleared his throat one more time and spoke again, with a bit more clarity. “No, that’s fine. Thank you though.”
James just smiled as he watched Sherlock very quickly turn away and with a wide stride, leave. There was a chuckle beside him as John leaned over and whispered to him. “Very nice. This kind of sheds some new light on the game, doesn’t it?”
James nodded and folded his hands, leaning against them as he shot John a rather devious look. “I think our reporter might be coming down with something… why don’t you go check up on him?” he patted John on the back before the other man retreated, squeezing James lightly on the shoulder before he took the same path Sherlock did just barely a minute before.
“William!” John called out as he caught up to Sherlock, who was walking swiftly, hands shoved into his jeans’ pockets and shoulders hunched. He turned just in time to take a step back to keep John from colliding with him. He looked guarded, winded, and still as flushed as ever. “Good. I caught you. You really shouldn’t be out here on your own.”
“Why are you following me?” Sherlock snapped accusingly.
“I just told you why. You okay? You’re beet red. Are you running a fever?”
Sherlock reared backwards to avoid John’s hand resting on his forehead, sending himself slightly off balance. John reached out and grabbed his forearm, pulling the Sherlock’s slender body against his own. He tilted his head as he felt the source of Sherlock’s flustered behavior pressed against his own abdomen. Well then.
“Come here,” John whispered as he dragged Sherlock off into the shadows, behind one of the nearby buildings.
“What the hell are you…” John slapped a hand over Sherlock’s mouth as he checked to make sure the coast was clear, craning his neck before he pressed his lips on the back of his own hand and smiled.
“Diagnosing your current problem, William. You want me to stop?”
Sherlock shook his head, his fingers grasping John’s wrist and pulling his hand away from his lips, kissing the tips of his fingers before he pushed at the back of John’s neck with his free hand, forcing their lips to collide with each other in a fevered and desperate kiss. As teeth clacked together and tongues pressed against one another, John’s hand moved south, his palm pressing against the very distinct bulge behind Sherlock’s jeans. He felt Sherlock gasp against his mouth as he hips rocked forward, John’s hand quickly clapping over Sherlock’s mouth to muffle a moan.
“So you like soldiers, William?” he whispered to him, Sherlock only nodding in response. John chuckled against his ear before he hummed against his cheek. “Good.” He moved his hand away, smiling devilishly at Sherlock’s protesting whimper as he bucked his hips upward to try to reclaim some of the much needed friction. “Shhh…” John hushed as he pressed his lips to Sherlock’s as a plea for the other man to stay silent. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered as he started to undo Sherlock’s jeans, his hand deviating upwards, sliding underneath Sherlock’s henley shirt that hugged the man’s body just right. “But you have to be quiet, right?” He lifted the shirt up to Sherlock’s arm pits, running his thumbs across his ribs, smiling a little at the little gasps and swallows Sherlock emitted as he tried to regain composure. Oh. This was going to be fun. As the pads of John’s thumbs brushed across Sherlock’s nipples, the resulting hiss made John suck in a breath of his own. He plucked at the left one, the fingers of his free hand pressing against Sherlock’s lips as he hushed him again. John dipped his head back down and took the sensitive little bud in his mouth, lapping at it with his tongue before sucking on it lightly.
As John pulled away, he felt Sherlock’s breath catch between his teeth, tongue darting out to wet his lips, swiping along John’s fingers in the process. John pulled the hem of Sherlock’s shirt up to the younger man’s lip as he withdrew his hand, pressing it into his mouth before Sherlock took the fabric between his teeth. John offered him a gentle smile, smoothed the curls back from Sherlock’s face and dropped his hands to those narrow, pale hips. “Don’t forget to be quiet,” John reminded and Sherlock nodded in response, his eyes glassy, the misty blue-green color darkened into a thin ring as his pupils dilated. John only dropped his gaze briefly to guide Sherlock’s jeans and pants down his hips, a whispered “Jesus” rushing through him before he fell to his knees, gripping at Sherlock’s thighs.
The warm, wet feeling of John’s lips wrapping around Sherlock’s cock jerked his hips forward, his fingers scraping across the rough surface of the wall behind him as he pressed his lips tightly on the hem of his shirt to keep the groan at bay. His eyes snapped open as he felt John’s tongue start to tease the tip, his hand yanking at John’s short hair in alarm. John pulled back and hissed a bit, “William… be more…” he looked up at Sherlock’s face before he turned his head to see James had found them. “Finally caught up?”
“Looks like you wasted no time at all,” James replied in a hushed voice as he drew in closer, shaking his head at Sherlock’s exposed body. “God, that’s beautiful…” he murmured before he offered Sherlock a very small smile, reaching out smoothing Sherlock’s cheek with the back of his fingers. The other man leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. “You don’t mind, do you? That I’m here?” Sherlock shook his head as James pulled the hem of his shirt from his mouth to lean in and kiss him, Sherlock encouraging it, wrapping an arm around James while his other hand gently rested back into John’s hair. James’ kiss helped muffle the moans and groans that spouted forth as John returned his concentration back to lapping at the bit of precome that started to leak from the tip.
Sherlock whined a little when James pulled away and pushed his shirt back into his mouth. “You’re in good hands, William,” James whispered as he wet his index finger with his saliva, just as John drew more of Sherlock’s prick into his mouth and began to suck. James smiled at the way Sherlock’s head fell forward before lolling backwards, a strangled little cry soaking into his shirt. “Shh… shh… you need us to stop?” James reached down in between Sherlock back and the wall, his hand slipping in between the cleft of Sherlock’s arse. Sherlock shook his head emphatically, frustrated pleasure etched across his face as he sucked his shirt as he seemed to fight for coherence. His hands wildly searched to on something sturdy to grasp on, his left finally settling back to John’s hair, fingers pressing against his scalp. His right tangled itself in James’ tee, tugging at it in desperation. “John hold his hips,” James warned and waited for John to comply before he pressed his moistened finger against Sherlock’s entrance, watching as his hips predictably struggled against John’s grip, his back arching as his body strung tight. “Breathe, William,” James whispered, kissing his cheek and jaw and neck before he started to untangle Sherlock’s fingers from his shirt, fighting for him to loosen his grip. “I’m not going anywhere,” he soothed as he nodded downward, pressing his finger further into Sherlock and twisting, Sherlock falling back against the wall just as John’s lips popped off his erection with a crude slurp.
James kneeled down next to John, kissing him briefly and smiling, before taking John’s place on Sherlock’s cock. A hand snaked down and steadied itself on James’ shoulder, and there was a throaty groan that ground out from Sherlock’s chest, barely held back by the tight press of his lips as he struggled to keep himself quiet and still. John maneuvered Sherlock’s leg over his shoulder, gripping at his thigh as he pressed his lips to Sherlock’s testicles. He drew one into his mouth and sucked on it lightly, teasing the skin with his tongue. All the while, Sherlock could feel himself unravel, the dark scenery around him blurring together as his mind spun from sensory overload. Their soft mouths coupled with their hard, coarse hands on his body pulled him apart, set his insides on fire and melted his nerves. Every vulgar word he’d cataloged in his mind came rushing forward, stopping just short of his tongue as everything seemed to break down in a flash of white, blinding sparks.
James and John’s grips were all that kept him upright as his body slumped downward, sated and boneless. He could feel both of them take turns, milking each spurt of his orgasm and sucking him clean before he finally loss his senses.
“Jesus Christ…” John whispered as he started to pat Sherlock’s cheek. “William? You still with me?” Sherlock could barely manage a nod, his chest wracked with huffs of air that seemed to leave his body too fast. He felt John’s lips against his temple as both he and James redressed him, two pairs of strong arms holding his body upright. “Shh… shh… calm down. You’re okay. Stay with me.. It’s okay. We’ll get you cleaned up. You’re okay, William.”
Sherlock woke slowly, unable to recognize his surroundings right away. The mattress was stiff, the blankets coarse, and the lingering smell could only be described as unusually sanitary. He closed his eyes again as he felt a soothing damp cloth against the back of his neck and reached out for the man who sat next to him. There was a soft chuckle as the cloth was moved to the side, a damp hand clutching Sherlock’s venturing touch. “Hey… you’re awake.”
“Mmm… John? Right?” Sherlock sought for clarification as he recognized the voice.
“Yeah. That’s right. You okay? Not use to men passing out from an orgasm like that.”
Sherlock pushed himself up, though he was slowed by John’s insistence, turned onto his back. “I’m fine… really…” he looked around, “Where’s James?”
“He got called away. He’ll be back soon, though. I’m sure,” John pushed Sherlock’s disheveled curls back away from his face. “You had us both worried… here…” he offered Sherlock a bottle of water. “Drink. I think you might be a bit dehydrated,” he set Sherlock’s journal down on the bed as well. “You also dropped this.”
Sherlock blinked at the little bound book before he carefully picked it up once he took a long swig of water. “Oh. Thank you…” He looked up, thought interrupted when the curtain surrounding his bed was pulled back, James entering with a smile.
“Oh, so you’re awake. Good.”
Sherlock nodded as he fidgeted a little with the journal in his hands before he set it aside. He opened his mouth to try to speak, but words seemed to fail him. He felt like thanks were in order, but there was a number of things he should be thanking them for. Truth be told, he’d been wound up and tense since Greg had told him their destination, but now… after John and James’ talented… ministrations… he’d felt far more relaxed, despite the fact that the humiliation of passing out afterwards was just starting to dawn on him. He cleared his throat and took another sip of water, bringing his knees up to his chest.
There was a long silence before John and James exchanged looks and nodded to each other. “Well…” John started to stand. “I guess we should leave you to rest up… regain your strength…”
Sherlock nodded as he clutched at the bottle of water tightly. “Yes… and… thank you…” he replied, though he couldn’t tell if his thank you fully conveyed exactly what he was thankful for.
Both John and James smiled before John nodded once. “Oh, believe me. It wasn’t any trouble at all…”
Apparently, the thank you told more than Sherlock had thought.
When Sherlock woke again, he felt off. Uncomfortable. Oh. He lifted his covers and looked down, his body making its needs quite clear. He chewed on his lip and looked around as he laid there, a bit at loss of what to do. He stayed still, closing his eyes and trying his best to will it away, but scenes from the night before kept creeping into his mind’s eye and blinding him with images that could only elicit arousal. He squirmed and gasped and twisted against the thin mattress, before he curled up helplessly on himself. He took a few calming breaths and then slowly, very slowly, began to sit up.
The last thing he expected was for John to be looking right at him with a knowing smirk. “You okay there, William?”
Sherlock shook his head, pulling the covers back to expose his current predicament. John let out a low whistle and shook his head before he popped his head out from behind the curtain, “James?” he called quietly. “You wanna come help me here for a minute?” James walked in just as John sat down on the bed, Sherlock looking between the two of them as he undid his jeans, and pushed them down, his erection tenting beneath his pants.
James pressed a finger to his lips again, silently signifying to Sherlock that he still needed to keep his voice down. Sherlock nodded and stood, shimming his jeans down to his ankles, before he knocked them off with his shoes. John reached out and pulled at the elastic of Sherlock’s briefs, helping the taller man out of them before he pulled Sherlock back down on the bed. “Lay back,” he encouraged gently and Sherlock complied. “Spread your legs,” John whispered, reaching out to hand something to James. Sherlock sighed when he heard the cap of a bottle snap off. “This okay?” John asked and Sherlock nodded his consent before answering with a very quiet ‘yes’. “Good.”
Sherlock jumped a bit when he felt James’ finger against him, which caused both James and John to snicker quietly. “Shh… relax…” John insisted and leaned down to kiss Sherlock’s forehead. “God, you’re lovely,” John purred as he pressed down against Sherlock’s arms to keep them still. There was a loud moan that Sherlock could barely hold back when James finally pushed his finger in to the knuckle. John caught it with his mouth as he pressed an open kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “Shh… shh…” John continue to hush, his fingers twining with Sherlock’s as he squirmed under James’ touch. “Tight, I take it?” he asked as he noticed the care James seemed to be taking.
James nodded once before he pulled out his index finger, slicking it and his middle back up with lube. “Very…” he grunted as he pushed two fingers inside, causing Sherlock to bite back another moan. John freed one hand to press it to Sherlock’s mouth, leaning down to brush his lips along Sherlock’s hairline.
“Shh… God, I wish I could let you be as loud as you wanted, William. That voice of yours is gorgeous…” He pulled away but Sherlock’s gripped the back of his neck to keep him close, whimpers stifled by John’s palm. John looked down to see James pull his fingers out and he whispered soothingly against Sherlock’s forehead as he moved his hand. “I think you’re ready, but he needs to hear what you want.”
Sherlock floundered a bit at the words, unable to answer right away. He gaped a bit as he looked down to see James free his own erection, jerking with a start at the length, he closed his eyes tightly, hearing the distinct sound of a condom wrapper before he nodded. “Yes… yes this… this is what I want…” he answered as he opened his eyes again and looked down. “I want you to fuck me…” he insisted, squeaking from surprise when James pulled his legs to wrap around his waist. Sherlock clapped his free hand that wasn’t gripping John’s against his lips to cut off the whimper when he felt James begin to press inside him. He closed his eyes tightly, John’s soft voice the only thing keeping himself grounded.
“You’re okay,” he insisted. “It’s a lot, I know. You’re doing fine… Shh…” he felt John’s thumb swipe across his eyes and it wasn’t until then he realized they had started to tear. His eyes snapped open as John pried his hand from his mouth and kissed him again, distracting him with delicious sweeps of his tongue. He felt John smile as he pulled back. “See? Take a look…” Sherlock lifted his head a little, his heart catching at the sight of James between his legs, head dropped forward and panting. He scrambled forward, pulling himself away from John briefly to grasp the sides of James’ face and bring him down for a kiss.
Sherlock ground his hips downward to take more of James inside him, causing the other man to groan into the kiss before he fell backwards as James grasped his hips and started to move.
John tilted his head as Sherlock started murmuring what at first seemed to be nonsense. It took a moment before he finally realized that Sherlock was actually calculating… James’ measurements… probably in an attempt to keep himself from screaming. He couldn’t help the smile that broke over his face as he locked eyes with James. “Oh, William…” he exhaled before he looked down at the unraveling man beneath them. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“And… rather generous…” James forced out. Sherlock shook his head.
“No… I’m… only… accurate…” Sherlock hissed a bit and arched, fingers digging into the blanket. John quickly gathered Sherlock’s arms and pinned him back to the bed, “Dear god…” Sherlock nearly sobbed and John chuckled again.
“Hear that, James? Think that was the spot…”
Sherlock looked between them, dizzy in a swirl of pleasure that only shot through him a second time as James angled himself just right. His body clenched, and a plea tore from his chest in what could be closest compared to a growl. “Harder.”
James lifted Sherlock hips, hooking his ankles onto his shoulders as he thrust faster into Sherlock’s body, John still pinning Sherlock’s arms down as he surged forward and caught James’ mouth in a brief kiss. It seemed over too soon, as James’ hips pumped twice more before he orgasmed and withdrew. Sherlock laid on his side as John pulled away, still hard and aching for more. Sherlock was roused from his daze with a quick swipe through his hair and John’s voice next to his ear, “My turn… do you mind?”
Sherlock shook his head and smiled as John pulled him into his lap, his legs on either side of John’s hips. He pressed his cheek against John’s shoulder, James helping him position his hips. He heard the tear of another condom wrapper and lifted his head to kiss John lazily, a messy mouthing of lips against lips, tips of tongues pressing against each other. He felt himself being pulled back and upwards, his back resting against James’ chest. He jerked and eyes widened as he felt himself sink downwards, “Th… thicker…” was all he could manage in a strangled declaration and James pressed a kiss to his temple.
“Shh… I know,” James’ voice was coarser, deeper, but just as soothing as he held Sherlock’s hips steady. “Almost there… doing so good… look at you…” Sherlock whimpered, his head falling back to James’ shoulder, John’s lips on his throat. “See?” James encouraged softly with a grin before he kissed Sherlock’s jaw, swiping a drop of sweat away with his tongue before he reached down between Sherlock and John’s bodies. “Shit… I’m so sorry, William… look at how hard you are… leaking everywhere.” He pressed his fingers to Sherlock’s lips as he wrapped his hand around his erection and started to stroke. Sherlock’s responding gasp, came with a gargled plea. “Christ’s sake, John… fuck the poor man.”
John was breathless by the sight before he started to thrust upwards, one hand guiding Sherlock’s hips as the other joined James’ around Sherlock’s length.
Sherlock could only look downward, watching as the two men stroked him, fingers and thumbs swiping across the tip and head, slicking him up with precome. He closed his eyes tightly as he felt everything wrap tight, clench, and coil as he was pushed quickly towards the edge. And then James and John’s lips were against his skin, teeth grazing and teasing as his shoulders were marked. His mind, much like it had the night before, slammed shut as his body’s impulses took over completely, ecstasy pouring from somewhere low in his abdomen outwards, spurting between them. James caught Sherlock as he fell backwards, kissing his hair, his jaw, the back of his neck as he held him still as John pounded into him. Sherlock ran his fingers through John’s hair as the man slowed and came with one final thrust.
Sherlock laid there, panting and sated as John and James cleaned themselves up and disposed of the evidence. Gingerly, Sherlock was lifted, a damp flannel swiped across his grimy skin as kisses were exchanged with the both of them.
“Happy?” one of them, probably John, inquired.
Sherlock nodded as he was laid back against the bed, cheek against his pillow as he closed his eyes.
“Very…”
For the next two weeks, Sherlock’s investigation efforts were sporadically interrupted by Major Sholto and Captain Watson. Every couple days, he’d be dragged off to remote locations. He was bent over, pushed up, and laid back against any and every flat surface available as the two men pleasured him mercilessly with their mouths and tongues and fingers and cocks. They’d take their turns driving him completely to the brink of his sanity, forcing him into the center of their attentions – and for the first time in his life, he felt his mind slow to a stop while his body got lost in itself.
And he loved every minute of it.
He’d wander back to Greg, sore and freshly wiped down of come, sweat still in his hair. And Greg would look him up and down with a smug smirk, probably reveling in the fact that, for once, Sherlock was just as obvious to him as everyone else was to Sherlock.
But it had to come to an end at some point.
Sherlock had wrapped up the case and was pulled out of there quickly. He barely had time to say goodbye to John and James, but he did have time for one last handshake between the two of them.
“William… it isn’t your real name is it?” John asked. Sherlock offered a smile and nodded.
“It actually is. I just don’t use it. Full name is really William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”
“So…?”
“I go by Sherlock,” he clarified before he handed off his card. “When you two are in London again… please… look me up.”
He would not hear from them for another five years, when they both came back into his life, both scarred and crippled from getting too close to death. Sherlock didn’t even notice.
“Mm…” Sherlock wiped at his eyes, sucking in a long drag of oxygen through his nose. He slowly pushed himself up, caught between two pairs of strong arms keeping him in place. He laid there for a moment, sandwiched between his two soldiers. John’s face was pressed to his chest, arm draped across his side. James was behind him, leg over his thighs, lips against the back of his neck. When he started to untangle himself, both men groaned and stirred from sleep, tightening their grip. “Need to get up…” Sherlock insisted. “Text…”
“No…” both men rumbled and pulled him back into bed, pinning him down. Sherlock’s struggles were cut short with kisses as two hands groped at his morning erection, causing him to gasp and moan.
He didn’t need to be quiet anymore, after all.
The morning ended with Sherlock stepping out of the shower in his dressing gown, wiping his hair down with a towel. He limped to the kitchen where John was cooking breakfast while James read the newspaper. He planted a kiss on James’ hair, rubbing lightly at the back of his neck before John handed him his phone (which had been confiscated in light of other activities earlier).
“Lestrade,” John remarked before he pecked a kiss on Sherlock’s lips. “Think you might like this one. I’m coming with you so you’re back here early.”
Sherlock paused and raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
James looked up and frowned. “Think seven years ago, Sherlock.”
They both sighed at Sherlock’s bewildered expression before John very gently took his face between his hands. “If you take the case, we can’t stay out late. James and I have some plans for you this evening.”
“Oh?” Sherlock frowned as he started to sort through the clues, piecing them together slowly before finally his eyes widened, “Oh!”
“There. Told you he’d get it in time,” James quipped and John could only chuckle.
“Happy Anniversary… William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”