sherlockbbc_fic | Prompting Part XXXV

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Prompting Part XXXV

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Sherlock keeps trying to bug Mycroft about something, but Mycroft won't talk to him. So Sherlock drags John to the Diogenes Club and starts on a campaign of silent (but extremely expressive) PDA, in keeping with their new not-just-flatmates-anymore status. Like, an all-out makeout session in front of the fire and all the other club's members. Eventually Mycroft gives in and is willing to talk, to keep Sherlock from embarrassing him further.

John didn’t know how on earth Sherlock had talked him into this. Well, yeah, he did, but actually walking up the steps to the Diogenes Club made him have a slight change of heart.

“Sherlock, are you sure this is—“

Sherlock shut him up by putting a finger against his lips.

“You’re a truly terrible person,” John said when Sherlock removed his finger.

Sherlock just winked at him and opened the door to the club.

“You owe me,” John muttered under his breath as a footman came towards them to get their coats and jackets. The footman gave John a curious look, but since Sherlock was a member they were both shown into the club without any hassle.

They got a table by one of the large windows, and by some posh version of some gang gestures Sherlock managed to have a tea trolley brought to them. John felt his earlobes heating red already. This was a bad idea.

Such a bad idea.

“Are you even sure he’s here?” John whispered.

Sherlock hushed him soundlessly. John rolled his eyes, hoping very much that the point came across that he wasn’t really feeling in the mood right now. It probably was, because something sparked in Sherlock’s eyes like if he had just got another challenge.

Sherlock served them both tea in those ridiculously small cups John had never liked (he liked big mugs for his tea, buckets almost) and picked out some finger sandwiches for them. He sat down again, biting the small cucumber sandwich in half. He licked his mouth to get some crumbs off his lips, eyes locked with John’s. When he put the other half in his mouth he let his lips close around his finger and he pulled it out… slowly.

John shook his head, smiling, and shifted slightly in his seat. This was absurd. Sherlock was trying to seduce him over the poshest afternoon tea outside of the Palace… and it was working. That probably was the most absurd part.

It was definitely the most absurd part.

Oh, to Hell with it.

John took a sandwich of his own, took a bite and then he leaned forward in his chair, feeding it to Sherlock. For a moment Sherlock lost his seductive mannerism, smirking victorious. John almost rolled his eyes, but he got interrupted by Sherlock licking his finger as he took the sandwich in his mouth. John shifted slightly in his chair again.

John didn’t quite understand why he found it so incredibly hot to see Sherlock eat small sandwiches and lick his finger in silence. Actually, it probably was the silence part. Or the licking of the fingers part. Goddamnit, he wondered if he could have him do this at home where it could end with something other than a snog and potential frottage.

No. No, it would not end there. He was not going to come in his pants like a teenager. Snogging. That was it, they had sat the rule when he had agreed on this. When they got home though… John shook his head to get the images out of his head. This whole thing was to bother Mycroft, not him.

Ah, and there it was.

Mycroft.

If he just kept that in mind, this wouldn’t be a problem at all.

John leaned forward again, putting his hand on Sherlock’s thigh and stroking him slowly inwards, upwards. Sherlock let his knees fall out as much as the chair’s armrests allowed, but John stopped at the groin. Sherlock wasn’t allowed to come in his pants either.

At least not until the cab ride home.

Maybe.

Some of the patrons around them started to give them rather odd, though very discreet, looks. It egged John on, something he hadn’t expected, and he actually moved his hand just a little further up Sherlock’s inner thigh. Sherlock raised his eyebrows, but John couldn’t quite decipher if it was because of the touch or the revelation that John liked being watched. No matter what reason, he leaned in and kissed John. Closed mouthed, but making it smack far louder than necessary. That clearly wasn’t for John’s sake.

John smirked, thinking that perhaps he wasn’t the only one who started to want this to be over fast so that they could get home and do all of this more properly. He tilted his head to make it easier to continue the kiss and when he took the lead he made sure to open his mouth.

He recoiled almost immediately. “Seriously?” he hissed, earning him a less discreet glare or two.

“It was just the one,” Sherlock whispered back.

“You had a cigarette before our schedule silent terrorist snog attack?”

Sherlock looked very sheepish. John narrowed his eyes, glaring at him for a long time. Then he shook his head and leaned forward again, putting one hand on the back of Sherlock’s neck to pull him closer. Sherlock seemed a bit surprised that they kept going, but he wasn’t late to catch up.

The sound of their kissing almost echoed in the otherwise quiet room, but John felt that something was missing. It wasn’t the hum of their fridge or the over-working fans on their computers that were the usual background noise when they did this that he missed, it was something else. It took him almost half a minute before he realised that it was Sherlock, Sherlock was completely quiet. Usually he hummed or panted or even talked while they were kissing, but now the only sound was their lips and tongues moving against each other.

John couldn’t even start to describe what a turn-on that was.

He moved from his chair, still kissing Sherlock the best he could, and slid down on his knees between Sherlock’s legs. He moved both his hands down to Sherlock’s thighs, feeling how Sherlock moved to press down and back his hips to give his budding erection more space in his suit trousers. John hadn’t planned to actually do anything more than just place himself on the floor, because it probably was a very good visual, he had planned to be nice, but the taste of cigarette in Sherlock’s mouth made him less inclined to niceness. So he moved one hand to Sherlock’s crotch, moving it in a slow, circular movement.

Sherlock broke the kiss, biting his lower lip and sucking in air. John gave him a look saying ‘you started this’ and went to kiss him again. But he moved his hand, because it was just cruel otherwise.

Then – finally – they heard an all too familiar hemming next to them. John could feel Sherlock smirk even as he deepened the kiss and ignored his brother.

Mycroft cleared his throat again, a little bit louder this time, but with the same result. When he tapped Sherlock on the shoulder Sherlock gave in to a low moan – John was only too happy to know that it was a fake moan and not how Sherlock usually sounded, because otherwise he’d be a bit worried.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft hissed, but then it seemed like he gave up because he said, much louder than necessary: “William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”

Sherlock pushed away from John, looking up at Mycroft with wide grin. “I told you I would get you to speak in here.”

“Yes, Sherlock, you win,” Mycroft said quietly. “Your childish prank made me talk. Would you two now please leave?”

“Actually,” John said, getting up from the floor and back to his chair. “We’re just going to sit here for another while, if that’s all right.”

He looked down at his own crotch, then at Sherlock and then up at Mycroft to see if his point had come across. It had. Mycroft slowly shook his head, clearly not believing that he knew either of them, but didn’t argue. He just pointed a warning finger at Sherlock before leaving them.

John and Sherlock looked at each other, both of them trying very hard to not laugh. Sherlock reached for his tea cup, raising it in a small toast. A thank you for playing along perhaps. John did the same, already planning what they were going to do when they left here.

Haha! Perfect!

oh wow!
Very sexy and the ending is very promising. =)

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