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tali-zora · 8 years ago

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Cadet Holmes: A Detective Undercover

Oh. My. God. What have I done? This was meant to be a quick little ficlet about Sherlock swooning over Captain Watson. It’s turned into a monster, over 6,000 words long. I blame @inevitably-johnlocked and the watchalong crew. An innocent screening of Mulan has turned into this smut fest.

I hope you all enjoy it, I tried to make it funny as well as sexy.

Warnings: military kink, public sex, swearing, a tiny bit of homophobia, Sherlock has a dirty mind, there is a scene that doesn’t have explicitly obvious consent but they both want it, there is a crime scene in this but I tried not to describe the body much, explicit sex happens and as it’s a smut fic they don’t use protection.

“You’re looking for a Military man, with a history of domestic violence, who is employed by the London University and who lied on his army admittance forms as he is colorblind.”

“How did you know he was colour blind?” Lestrade asked looking puzzled by Sherlock’s last deduction.

“Obvious. Open your eyes Lestrade. Look. Really Look.” Sherlock sighed impatiently. “I don’t have time to explain everything to you like a child. We need to catch the murderer before he kills again.”

Lestrade’s shoulders dropped in defeat, “Right, I’ll just take your word for it then… Again.”

“As you should, Lestrade. I don’t understand why we go through this every time-” Sherlock broke off his usual rant as his phone started to ring in his pocket. Sherlock pulled out the smartphone and glanced at the screen before swiping to accept.

“What do you want Mycroft?”

“You’ll be pleased to know, little brother that you have been accepted into Her Royal Majesty's Army Reserve. You are to report to the University of London to begin your training tomorrow at 0500 hours.”

“You’re sending me back to school?”

“How interesting that you deem it appropriate knowledge to keep in your ‘harddrive’ that to be a member of the ULOTC you must first be enrolled as a student at London University.”

“How many cakes have you had today Mycroft? One? Three? Hmm, perhaps four? Oh and a cupcake. My my, you’ll never lose those 5 pounds at this rate, failing your new year's resolution already. How telling.”

“Your uniform will be delivered tonight. Don’t be late brother.”

Sherlock ended the call and looked back at Lestrade. “Mycroft has arranged for me to go undercover to find our murderer with the ULOTC. I will, of course alert you immediately once I have found him.”

Lestrade frowned and opened his mouth to say something but Sherlock cut him off. “Yes, yes… I will not go after the murderer on my own, really Lestrade.”

“Okay then. Give me a call once you’ve settled in.”

----------------

The uniform had already been delivered by the time Sherlock made it back to 221B. One of Mycroft's minions had actually laid it out on his bed. Standard army camo fatigues, including belt, boots and hat. Sherlock just stood in his bedroom doorway for several minutes staring at the uniform before he felt ready to approach it.

The closer he got the hotter his cheeks felt. It was crazy, since Sherlock had hit puberty he had experienced a strong reaction to anything army related. It was extremely embarrassing and he had expected to grow out of the obsession but it only seemed to get worse the older he got.

Mycroft had never forgotten Sherlock’s little secret kink when he had searched his little brothers room and found his stash of military magazines stuffed between his mattress and the slats on his bed. It was intolerable.

Sherlock took a deep breath and reached out to lightly brush his fingers across the heavy fabric of the uniform. The shudder that rocked through his whole body was entirely involuntary and hateful. He needed to get over this reaction fast because if he was this affected by an empty uniform on a bed how would he deal with being surrounded by fit men wearing the uniforms while they got hot and sweaty.

Sherlock groaned and let himself fall face first onto his bed. “I am in hell.”

--------------

Wearing the uniform wasn’t that bad. It appeared that Sherlock wasn’t affected by himself being in military dress, only other people. That was a huge relief. The biggest pain had been slathering on a monstrous amount of pomade to get his hair to slick back and lay flat on his head. It felt heavy and hard and was really uncomfortable but Sherlock hated how his hair curled up like wings on either side of his head under the hat more.

Under his new uniform Sherlock had, pre-emptively wore his tightest pair of pants. He knew from previous experience he would be at least half had for most of the day just being near military personnel. Once those personnel turned their attention on him and started barking orders, all bets were off. Sherlock hoped he would be able to keep his composure long enough to find the murderer quickly so he could get out of there as fast as possible.

When the detective arrived at London University he went straight to the officers building to talk to the recruiter. He would know, thanks to Mycroft that he wasn’t actually enrolling officially and was only there temporarily. Thankful for small miracles Sherlock knocked firmly on the door and waited to be invited inside.

“Come in.”

Sherlock opened the door and immediately had to clench his teeth to stop the gasp that wanted to escape. The recruiter was a middle-aged man, clean-shaven and hair cut military short. He wore an officer's uniform, his white hat resting to the left on his desk. As Sherlock entered the man stood and offered his hand.

With a deep breath Sherlock stepped forward and shook it, the hand was calloused, rough and strong. This was torture.

“Mr Holmes I believe?” The man said with a thin smile. “Your brother, told me to expect you this morning. My name is Major Taylor Jones. Welcome to London University.”

--------

Sherlock had been mistaken, hell wasn’t being alone in his bedroom with empty army fatigues. Hell was standing at attention in a line up of fit 20-35 year old men all in uniform waiting for their Captain to inspect their uniforms.

“Cadet Williams!” The Captain snapped as he walked along the line.

“Sir!”

“Retie those laces, now.”

“Yes Sir! Sorry Sir!” Williams immediately dropped to one knee and began re-tying his laces quickly. Sherlock gulped and let his breath out slowly. He could feel sweat on the back of his neck already.

The Captain continued walking down the line, yelling out occasionally to Cadets who had not adequately dressed, shined their shoes or missed a belt loop. He was getting closer and closer to Sherlock’s position in line and every step sent a shiver down his spine. The Captain was beyond perfection.

He was short, but broad. Clearly still very fit, especially for a man approaching 40. His hair was blond but it was lightened further with a hint of silver, that only showed when the early morning light hit it just right. His hands looked strong and capable, his stride confident and his fatigues were pressed and starched beautifully. Sherlock let his eyes take in all the information he could about the Captain. Single, veteran of at least 20, maybe 25 years. Trained as a trauma surgeon. Wounded in action, left shoulder. Most likely a bullet wound.

The Captain glanced at him and their eyes met, and as cliche as the saying was it really felt like the world stopped for a moment, and his heart skipped several beats. Sherlock immediately stiffened his posture and returned his gaze forward. He could actually feel the heat radiating off his face.

“Cadet Holmes, welcome to the ULOTC. My name is Captain John Watson. I hope you are ready to work hard.”

“Yes Sir!” Sherlock gasped. Oh god, oh god, oh god. How was he going to do this? He could barely focus on anything but Captain Watson. He was supposed to be finding the murderer not blushing and swooning like a Jane Austen character because the military man spoke to him. Sherlock gritted his teeth and kept his focus on one of the high windows in the building across the field. After a moment's hesitation Captain Watson continued his inspection down the line.

-----

Running around a field with an erection was new. Captain Watson had decided to start today's training with a warm up, he was leading the group at a fast, but steady pace. The cadets were to run in formation behind for four laps before they would run movement drills with weighted equipment.

The Captain had Sherlock placed at the front of the group right behind him so that he could watch Sherlock closely. This meant that Sherlock had to watch John Watson run, watch his legs stride powerfully. Watch his back move and flex as his arms swung with his movements, and most importantly watch his arse pull the fatigues light across his cheeks as each leg swung forward.

Without warning Captain Watson turned and continued running backwards, he was obviously inspecting the formation. He watched Sherlock run for a moment, Sherlock could feel his cheeks getting hot and turning red again. With a wink, the Captain jogged off to the side and slowed his pace so he could fall back. “Keep it up Cadets! I don’t want to see you break pace!”

“Yes Sir!” The whole group shouted back.

“Cadet Hall! Lift those knees!”

“Yes Sir! Sorry Sir!”

“Cadet Singh you’re falling behind, pick up the pace! Left! Right! Left! Right! Keep it up!”

Sherlock’s steps faltered. This was unbearable, he was starting to chafe from the growing dampness seeping into his pants. Sherlock was struggling to remember ever being this brutally turned on. Oh how he wanted Captain Watson to pull rank on him, to shout at him to drop to his knees and open his trousers with his teeth. How would the Captain taste? What did his cock look like?

“Cadet Holmes!” Captain Watson’s sharp voice cut through his fantasy. “Are we going too fast for you?”

“No Sir!” Sherlock panted back, his spine was tingling. His feet felt too heavy and too light at the same time.

“Keep up Holmes!”

“Yes Sir!”

-----------------

Sherlock leaned exhausted, against the door and groaned pitifully at the stairs the he would need to climb to make it up to his flat. Captain Watson was the devil. After running four laps of the field he’d allowed the cadets a moment to catch their breath and drink some water before they had to suit up with weighted packs and run through several obstacle courses.

With a defeated sigh Sherlock began dragging himself up the stairs and into the shower. His previous guess about chafing proved to be correct and after a long hot shower Sherlock applied some cream and flopped naked onto his bed. He was asleep before he even had a chance to wriggle under the covers.

“Cadet Holmes, is there something I can do for you?” Captain Watson said as he stood up from his desk. Sherlock was in the officers building again, but this time instead of Major Jones to greeting him it was John Watson.

“I need to interview your recruits. It’s a police matter, I’m looking for a murderer who I believe is a part of your squad.”

The Captain re-took his seat behind his desk and his eyes swept up and down Sherlock’s body. “I see, will you be needing to interview the officers as well?”

Sherlock blushed, “Ahm… Yes.’

“I’m afraid Major Jones has been called away, you can start with me if you like.” The Captain offered. “I’m free now in fact. Please, Holmes have a seat. Can I get you anything? Tea, coffee or a glass of water perhaps?”

“No thank you.” Sherlock pulled out a chair from the desk but the Captain interrupted him.

“Why don’t you have a seat here, Cadet.” Watson pushed his chair back further from his desk and patted his lap invitingly. Sherlock felt heat pool low in his belly, he stepped around the desk and slipped onto the Captain's lap.

As Watson stroked a hand down Sherlock’s back he suddenly realised, as was the way with dreams, that he was naked. “Oh!” Sherlock gasped, the Captain grinned at him and leaned in to lick at his neck.

“You did so well today Cadet. I’m proud of your performance.”

“Ah!”

“So responsive, I adore the sounds you make Sherlock.”

“Guh!”

“Can you feel how hard you make me Cadet?”

“Mmmhff!”

“Good boy.” The Captain lifted him and laid him on his back across the desk, Sherlock’s legs wrapped around his waist. “Now, I want you to scream for me.”

Sherlock landed with a thump on the floor next to his bed. He was rock hard and covered in sweat. “Oh god!” Sherlock groaned and grasped himself firmly, he only had to stroke himself twice before he was cumming all over his hand. “Fuck!” Sherlock shuddered and collapsed back onto the floor.

-------

“You’re late Cadet Holmes.” Captain Watson snapped at him as he jogged onto the field.

“Obviously.” Sherlock rolled his eys, he was in a very bad mood this morning. Waking up on the floor covered in dried semen was not an enjoyable experience. Being greeting by the main attraction of his dreams last night in such an unfriendly manner wasn’t helping.

Captain Watson’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, “Did you just talk back to me Cadet?”

Sherlock groaned, the tingles shooting up and down his spine were just annoying him today. He really wasn’t looking forward to another day running around and trying not to collapse into a puddle of goo at Captain Watson’s feet. He had a criminal to catch.

The Captain clapped his hands loudly right in front of Sherlock face, which caused him to jump. “Now I have you attention Cadet Holmes, I want you to drop and give me twenty pushups. Now.”

Sherlock was on his knees before the Captain so fast he hadn’t even understood what he’d been asked. His heart was thumping so hard and fast in his chest he could hardly breathe. Captain Watson took a step back away from Sherlock. “Whoa, Holmes are you okay? Have you eaten this morning?”

Sherlock panted heavily, “I can’t remember.”

“Right, get up and come with me.”

------

The Captain shoved a brown paper bag, which obviously contained his pre-packed lunch into Sherlock's arms. “I’m leaving you in Major Jones capable hands. I don’t want to see you again until next week when you’re ready to put some real effort into training. And for god's sake, eat!” Watson snapped and closed the Officer’s door behind him.

“Mr Holmes?” Major Jones asked as he looked up from his desk.

“I need to review all the recruits personnel files.” Sherlock said as he gulped air and readjusted his fatigues.

------

“Sherlock Holmes!” Mrs Hudson gasped as she walked into 221B. “What on earth have you done to my bloody wall?”

Sherlock glanced up from where he was bent uncomfortably over some files on the ULOTC recruits. So far he’d not found any leads on which one was the murderer and he was running out of time. There was a chance that the killer could strike again. The wall in question was covered in photos of all the male recruits in uniform pinned to the wall.

“I’m taking this out of your rent, again!” Mrs Hudson yelled as she stomped into the kitchen and began making him a sandwich.

“It cannot be helped Mrs Hudson, I need to think. I need to find this criminal and I’m running out of time!”

“That may be young man, but you need to learn not to stick pins in my walls!”

“Apologies Mrs Hudson, once the case is complete I will have someone fix the holes.”

“I should hope so!”

------

“Lestrade? Has there been another one?” Sherlock asked when he picked up his phone later that evening.

“Afraid so. Meet me outside London University?”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

------

The body of the secretary was found in the same pose as the previous two had been. She was tied up in a kneeling position in front of the Queen Victoria statue. The words ‘Hail Empress of India’ had again been printed in large block letters and stapled to the victim's chest. Her head fell back at an unnatural angle proving that her neck had been broken, the same cause of death as the previous victims.

“It doesn’t get any easier.” Lestrade sighed as he watched the forensic team take photos and samples all around the woman.

“She worked at the University, same as the other two. She was knocked unconscious brought here and tied up, looks like this one woke up before he broke her neck. There are signs of struggle around the ropes.” Anderson explained.

“Obviously Anderson, I have eyes.” Sherlock huffed. “Just because you need the most obvious of facts pointed out to you doesn’t mean we all do.”

“I still don’t understand why we’re wasting our time looking into the army reserves on campus, what about this scene could possibly point to the killer being in the military?” Anderson snarked.

“Shut up Anderson, you’re too stupid to have an opinion.” Sherlock crouched down beside the body and began his inspection. “The killer is a colonialist, he obviously believes quite strongly in the British Empire and wants to bring back military invasion and takeovers of smaller countries to bring Britain back to it’s former glory.”

“The note for example, ‘Hail Empress of India’ clearly the man idolises Queen Victoria for conquering India and bringing it under British rule. He wants to take an active role in this as he has proven by killing people who support the disbanding on the commonwealth and the release of all foreign countries under British ownership. Therefore the killer would be enlisted in the military.”

“We just need him to make a mistake, leave some evidence behind.” Sherlock frowned and pulled the paper off the body and flipped it over. “Ah ha! Bingo. We have a mistake.” On the back of the paper, still printed in large block letters were the words:

YOU’LL NEVER BE A REAL SOLDIER MR HOLMES

------

“Cadet Holmes, on time today I see.” Captain Watson greeted him with a small smile. “I hope you’ve eaten something this morning?”

“Yes sir, I’m sorry for my lateness last week I wasn’t having a very good day.” Sherlock flushed, he shouldn’t have said anything.

The Captain glanced over him with a considering look on his face. “I see, but that’s no excuse Cadet. Your punishment still stands. Drop and give me twenty push-ups, now.”

“Yes Sir!” Sherlock fell to his knees again then got into position and began the exercise.

“I want to hear you count Cadet! One!” The Captain bent down so he could yell into Sherlock’s ear. His breath was hot and excruciatingly distracting.

“One!” Sherlock gasped at the top of his push up before lowering himself down again.

“Keep those hips down Cadet, I don’t want to see you lifting your arse above your shoulders!” The Captain turned to look down over Sherlock’s posture.

“Sorry Sir!” Sherlock panted, this was harder than it looked. Especially with an erection. Sherlock couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this many erections in one week. Possibly not since he was fourteen years old.

“I don’t hear any counting Cadet, start again! One!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock groaned, his arms were starting to shake. “One!”

The sound of many boot falls drew Sherlock’s attention away from what he was doing and he glanced over towards the group of recruits who had lined up near the Captain.

“Good morning everyone, we’re going to skip inspections today lucky you. I want you all to do four laps of the field while Holmes completes his punishment. I’ll be watching so keep up the pace! Go! Left! Right! Keep those knees high Cadet Hall!”

“Yes Sir!” The group answered as one and then took off at a brisk run.

“Holmes! I still don’t hear any counting! Do I need to count for you? Have you forgotten?” The Captain returned to leaning over him and breathing on Sherlock’s neck.

“Ah! One!” Sherlock groaned.

“Again!” The Captain shouted. “T-Two!” Sherlock shuddered. His muscles clenched, his arms were shuddering and heat was pooling at the base of his spine. Oh god, he needed to stop.

“Keep your hips low!” Watson called out again and placed his hands on either side of Sherlock’s arse and readjusted their position. “If you don’t keep your posture straight you’ll pull a muscle. Now, down then push back up.”

Sherlock followed the Captain's directions, he lowered himself down then pushed with all his might. It was easier with him holding his hips. He didn’t have to think so much, but the heat and pressure of the Captains strong hands was distracting and making lightning bolts shoot along his spine.

“Ah-ah-ah three!” Sherlock panted and dropped down and pushed back up again. “F-Fuck-Four!”

The Captains hands moved away and he walked back up so he was bending down to look at Sherlock’s face. Sherlock was so involved in pushing himself up and down that he didn’t see the smirk on the Captain's face. Watson leaned down and blew hot breath over the back of Sherlock’s neck.

“Gah!” Sherlock gasped and his arms finally gave out and he collapsed in a heap on the grass. He was shaking, his muscles felt like jelly. His erection was wedged uncomfortably against the zipper of his fatigues, but he didn’t want to move.

The Captain crouched down beside Sherlock’s head, “That wasn’t twenty, Cadet. I didn’t tell you to stop.” his voice wasn’t loud and shouting anymore. It was deep and rough.

“I’m s-sorry sir, do you want me to start again?” Sherlock puffed and glanced up at the Captain. If his face could get any redder it certainly gave it a try. John Watson’s deep blue eyes were blown wide, his pupils were heavily dilated and Sherlock could tell his breathing and heart rate were elevated. He was aroused.

“You can continue where you left off. Clearly you’re not fit enough for twenty, so let’s drop it to ten. Can you manage that Holmes?”

“Yes Sir!” Sherlock lifted himself again and started counting. “Five!”

Watson’s hands reached out again and grasped his hips, tilting them down. This time though they didn’t stay on his hips, they moved to pat his bottom and then up to stroke over his shoulders.

“Ah! S-s-ssssix!” Sherlock hissed.

“Down lower Cadet. I want to see your hips brush the ground.” The Captain commanded.

“Oh!” Sherlock gasped and lowered himself down until he could just feel the pressure of the grass on his erection before pushing back up again. “S-seven!”

“Well done Cadet, keep going you’re almost there.” Watson praised.

“Gu-ah!” Sherlock cried out, he was so close. He was going to cum from doing pushups in the middle of a field. “Fuck!”

“Down again Holmes,” The Captain encouraged and grasped his hips one last time. He glanced up to see where his troop were. There were on the far side of the field, perfect.

“P-please!” It was too much, Sherlock needed something, anything. His arms hurt, his legs hurt his back hurt but his brain had short-circuited with the endorphins and adrenaline and was interpreting the signals as pleasure instead of pain. His whole body was tight and ready to snap.

“Eight.” The Captain was panting too as he pushed Sherlock’s hips down into a dip again. His cock pressing lightly against the ground. His hands slipped down and around to the front of Sherlock’s trousers and squeezed his cock.

“Nnnnnn-Nine!” Sherlock whined, he could feel it coming, his orgasm was coiled so tight in his belly he just needed something. “T-t-tennnn”

“Good boy.” The Captain groaned as he squeezed Sherlock’s cock one more time at the top of his push and it was over. Sherlock collapsed onto his face on the grass panting and twitching as his body pulsed with pleasure.

----------

Sherlock woke up laying on the couch in Major Jones’ office. His pants felt disgusting and all his muscles felt loose and uncoordinated. Sherlock pulled himself to his feet and looked around the empty room. There was something important that he’d thought of and wanted to check but he couldn’t think straight after the push-up session with the Captain.

Sherlock reached for a glass of water from the fountain beside the couch and took a few deep gulps of water. The cold helped him clear his mind. Sherlock strode over the the Major’s desk and began sifting through everything. It was a few moments later when Sherlock found what he’d been looking for. It was a list of all the Universities employee’s and their political views. The names of the victims he’d murdered had been crossed out. Bingo.

Sherlock froze at the sound of the office door opening, like a deer caught in headlights. Thankfully it wasn’t Major Jones who came into the room.

“Captain Watson” Sherlock greeting, trying not to collapse right there and then and plead with the man to finish what he’d started on the field and fuck him into next sunday.

“Sherlock Holmes.” He greeted back, “You know I knew you weren’t a real cadet the moment you walked onto the field. No one in their right mind with a military kink as strong as yours would be stupid enough to try to enlist. You could barely function.”

Sherlock’s mouth dropped open in shock, “I’m sorry?”

The Captain chuckled. “Oh don’t worry I know who you are, I looked you up. Googled you after the first day of training. Consulting Detective aye? Interesting. Not sure I believe all that stuff about deductions on your website though.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, “Oh really?”

John grinned, “Really.”

“Can I borrow your phone?” Sherlock asked holding out his hand.

The Captain frowned at the sudden change of topic, but reached into his pocket and handed over his phone anyway. “What are you doing here then? Pretending to enlist?”

“I was undercover.” Sherlock said as he quickly texted Lestrade to come to the University as fast as possible, they needed to catch Major Jones before he claimed another victim.

“Undercover?” John asked.

“Yes, Major Jones is a budding serial killer and I’ve just found the evidence to put him away for a very long time. Thanks for putting me in his office, by the way.” Finished with the text Sherlock held out John’s phone.

The Captain took the phone back with a frown, “A serial killer, really?”

“Yes, he’s responsible for the deaths on campus.”

“Shit… Oh! Shit! We need to run.” John gasped and turned to the door.

“What? Why?”

“Jones just spoke to me in the hallway he’s leaving for the airport, said his Mum who lives abroad just got diagnosed with cancer.”

“Quickly! We need to catch him!” Sherlock shouted and ran after him.

------

Sherlock struggled to keep up with the Captain, after his earthshattering orgasm and push ups his limbs still didn’t want to listen to his brain properly. So he was very thankful to watch John vault over a fence and charge into the staff parking lot and crash tackle Major Jones to the ground. Sherlock pulled a pair of zip ties out of his trouser pocket and quickly tied up their killer.

“Let me go you nutters!” Major Jones yelled. “Fucking lunatics! What the hell Watson?”

“Did you really kill Amanda, Jess and Simone?” John growled and pulled Jones to his feet.

“Wh-What? No! No! Not me! I never saw them! Don’t know who they are!” Jones quickly rambled.

Sherlock scoffed, “With that kind of defence I don’t think we even need a confession. You’ve worked with these women for years Major, you can’t possibly say you don’t know who they are.”

“Fuck you! You Freak! I know who you are! Queer!” The Major sneered at Sherlock.

There was a crack and then Jones was on the ground again moaning pitifully and bleeding from a nasty split lip. Sherlock glanced up at the Captain, he’d just punched Major Jones in the face.

“Fuck you Taylor! You don’t get to use that word, it doesn’t belong to you.” Watson growled.

“Enough! Stop!” Sherlock grabbed The Captain's arm and pulled as he reached down for Jones again. He was going to hit him again. “Captain! Leave it!”

“It’s people like you…” Watson kicked out at Jones and rolled him over onto his back.

“John! Stop!” Sherlock yelled again and jabbed him in the side with the heel of his hand.

“Ow! Sherlock!” John winced, “Fucking-that hurt like a bitch. Do you go for all the guys kidneys first?”

“Just yours.” Sherlock smirked.

---------

“Would you like a demonstration?” Sherlock asked as they stood side by side leaning up against a flashing police car and watching the offices take Jones away.

“Of what?” John asked.

“My deductions?”

John shrugged, “Sure.”

“Obviously, you’re a military man, when I first saw you I knew you’d been on active duty for at least 19 years. Deployed multiple times. Trained as a trauma surgeon, but also a good enough soldier to be on the front lines as a medic. That’s where you got shot. At first I thought it might have been a sniper shot, but there aren’t many snipers who would take a body shot instead of waiting for a head shot. So a ricochet bullet then, from an AK47. In your left shoulder.”

“You have an intermittent tremor in your right hand, which is odd given the placement of your wound, I suspect shrapnel damage or perhaps nerve damage. Which leaves you without a steady hand to perform surgery and I would assume an honorable discharge from the army. Except they offered you a desk job and you took it. You couldn’t face the idea of being without some part of your identity.”

“You brother, Harry is an alcoholic who recently walked out on his wife. You met up with your brother upon your return to London, but once you found out about the breakup you stopped talking to him. Judging by your anger over the queer comment you’re gay and have obviously received some unfair treatment because of that fact in your past.”

Sherlock took a breath and turned to look at John. “How am I doing so far?”

“Brilliant.” John breathed. “You are the sexiest thing I have ever seen.”

Sherlock blushed and coughed, “That’s not what people usually say.”

“What do people usually say?”

“Piss off”

----------

The moment they walked into 221B Sherlock was, for the second time in as many weeks pressing his back against the door. This time however it wasn’t due to exhaustion, it was because Captain John Watson had shoved him against it and proceeded to devour his mouth.

It was glorious. John kissed like a starving man tasting fresh, cool water for the first time in years. Sherlock’s brain was playing an endless loop of ‘johnjohnjohncaptainjohnwatsoncaptainjohnjohnjohn’. Sherlock’s hands grasped onto John's arms and squeezed, they were firm and tense with muscle as John pressed him even harder against the door.

“Ah!” Sherlock gasped as John nipped at his bottom lip and slid his mouth down to suck on his collar bone.

“Your neck, so distracting. Fucking, teasing me this whole time. God. I wanted you so bad.” John growled between sucks, each time his mouth left off with a sharp wet popping noise.

“Captain!” Sherlock shouted. “Please, upstairs. My-my landlady… She lives on the-the… fuck, the ground floor.”

“Hmm…” John breathed over the saliva on Sherlock’s neck which caused them both to shudder. “Okay then.” With one quick movement John bent slightly, caught Sherlock around the hips and lifted him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

“John!” Sherlock grunted, “Put me down!”

“Nope, I don’t want you out of my arms for the next twelve hours at least, so this is the best solution. Up we go!” John chuckled and began to climb the stairs, his hands slid down from Sherlock’s hips to pat, group and squeeze Sherlock arse.

“Ah! John! Please!”

“Right which way to a bed, genius?” John asked as he shoved open the door to Sherlock’s living room with his other shoulder.

“Through the kitchen, door at the end of the hallway.”

John made his way quickly to Sherlock bedroom and tossed him down onto the bed. He didn’t waste any time covering Sherlock with his body and capturing his mouth again. They kissed and kissed and licked and sucked on each others tongues.

“Harry is my sister, not my brother.” John gasped between kisses, “It was shrapnel damaged that caused the tremor, our airlift took a direct hit and the side paneling on the chopper exploded.”

“Oh, there’s always something.” Sherlock panted into John’s mouth, “Wh-why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don’t want this to be a casual fuck, you are the most brilliant, sexy, frustrating man I have ever met and I don’t want to let you go. I want you to be mine. I want to be yours.”

“Oh!” Sherlock arched up into John, their chests and hips pressing against one another through their clothes.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” John asked pulling back and looking deep into Sherlock's eyes.

“No, not… Not until I met you.” Sherlock admitted. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Wanting you. Fuck, John you made me cum in my pants by doing push ups. You’re perfect.”

John grinned. “That was so hot, I wanted to fuck you so bad and you kept sticking out your arse like an offering. Jesus Christ. Please let me, Sherlock please. I want to.”

“Oh god, yes! John please!”

It was a struggle for the two to separate long enough to completely undress, but they managed it. Once they were both naked coming back together again was glorious. Sherlock ran his hands up and down John’s back as he licked and sucked on the exit wound the bullet had created on his left pectoral muscle. John groaned and gasped as Sherlock continued to lavish attention on the scar. It was apparently hypersensitive.

John shifted down, his hand not holding him up sliding down Sherlock’s chest, he pinched and pulled at a hard nipple on his way and groaned as he watched Sherlock squirm and moan in response. John sat back on his heels and lifted Sherlock’s legs up, catching on Sherlock grasped his legs and held them up.

Sliding his hand up and down the back of Sherlock’s legs slowly getting closer and closer to his twitching erection, now turning purple with need John glanced away from the mouth watering sight and looked back up into Sherlock’s eyes. “Do you have any lube, love?”

“Yes! John, right hand side, top draw. Hurry.” Sherlock shuddered and pulled his legs down so they rested against his chest.

“Fucking hell, Sherlock you look amazing.” John quickly scrambled for the draw and the bottle of lube inside. With an impatient squeeze John had a handful of the cool jelly like substance. He reached back again for Sherlock's legs and pressed a few soft kisses to his thighs. “This might be a bit cold, sorry.”

Sherlock gasped as John spread the lube around his arsehole, rubbing and swirling his fingertips around the sensitive ring of muscle. “John! Please!”

With gentle pressure John pressed his index finger against Sherlock and slipped inside. He withdrew and entered again and again, using the lude to help ease his way inside. Sherlock moaned and panted with pleasure at every touch and John had to grasp himself firmly and squeeze to stop himself from ending their night too early.

“Fuck, Sherlock you. God, you’re so hot. You want it so bad, don’t you. You want my cock?” John panted and added another finger to the slow in out, in out movement.

“John! Ah! Yes! F-Fffuck! So good. Love it.” Sherlock babbled. “So good, please more! More!” John scissored his fingers and leaned down to press a kiss to Sherlock perineum. He licked and sucked on the soft flesh and mouthed as Sherlock’s balls which had drawn tight to his body already. “Johnjohnjohnjohn!” Sherlock chanted and rocked back onto John’s fingers.

“Damn, so tight! God you’re so greedy I can feel you pulling my fingers deeper inside you. Fuck, I can’t wait. Sherlock please? I need to be inside you.” John couldn’t watch Sherlock wriggle and pant anymore or he was going to explode.

“Yes! Hurry, hurry hurry! Please, want your cock! So much! John please! Now!” Sherlock pulled his legs back against his chest, he’d let go at some point but he couldn’t remember when.

John grabbed a pillow from beside Sherlock’s head and shoved it under his hips. “I’m here, love. Let’s cum together, if we can manage. Fuck you’re so hot!” John lined himself up with Sherlock’s hole and pushed in softly. As much as he wanted to just pound into Sherlock until they both came he didn’t want to hurt him.

“It’s fine, keep going. You can go faster. I’m good.” Sherlock encouraged and pulled John down so he could kiss his forehead. Their height difference meant that Sherlock couldn’t reach his lips but he could scrape his nails down John’s back and wrap his legs around his waist.

John groaned with pleasure as he bottomed out, he was all the way inside Sherlock. He could feel his heartbeat and the grasping, squeezing of the muscles as Sherlock adjusted to him. “Please, John… Move. Fuck me. God I need it.”

John gave one experimental thrust and then stopped again, “Count them.”

“Wh-what?” Sherlock gasped.

“Cadet Holmes, count how many times I shove my cock into your arse.” John commanded in his best ‘Captain’ voice. It was breathy and rough but it did the trick.

“Guh!” Sherlock squirmed again, “Yes Captain! Please!”

John pulled back and pushed in again, as Sherlock shouted one then two, then three. John started going faster and amazingly Sherlock kept up. John grasped Sherlock’s hips and tilted him. “Keep your hips down Cadet!” John gasped.

Sherlock keened loudly as John’s cock head dragged against his prostate. “Fuck! Ten! Fuck! Eleven! Captain!”

John leaned forward and sucked a nipple into his mouth and that was it, Sherlock’s whole body went ridged and he yelled John’s name. Hot bursts of semen painted Sherlock and John’s chest. The exquisite squeeze from the contractions of Sherlock’s orgasm toppled John over the edge and he collapsed on top of the detective.

“John! Oh god, so good. Johnjohnjohnjohnjohn….” Sherlock mumbled and continued to run his hands soothingly up and down John’s back. “Perfect. You’re perfect.”

John leaned up and pressed a sloppy kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “Hmmm… You’re perfect too, love.”

Tags:

@consultingeastwind @averybritishbumblebee @mrsmetta2 @1895-doyle-and-bronte-obsessed @jawnxsherly @hollyberrypie @morganadelacour @lalnableleesh @noxlucum

#mine #johnlock ficlet #wow that got long fast #i hope you guys like it #i had fun writing it #sherlock your military kink is showing #and john loves it

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