"Dull," came the annoyed mutter of the man seated next to him at Lestrade's desk.
"If you would just finish the bloody paperwork we could leave, Sherlock," John chided playfully, giving a light pat to his thigh under the desk.
Green-gray-blue eyes caught his and sparkled with a look he was learning all too well. Sherlock winked, then resumed hastily scrawling of his name to several more papers. He tossed the pen onto the desk and bounced to his feet.
"Come on, John," he said in a voice that sounded just a bit not good as he moved toward the office door, poking his head out and scanning the area. Giving John a let's go nod, he left the room. Near the front of the station was a hall of lockers they had passed on the way in. With a quick glance around, Sherlock grabbed his hand and pulled him off to one side, pulling open the largest one and hauling John in behind him.
Clicking the door closed with as little noise as possible, he turned and before John could think up a witty comment, he found himself being roughly shoved back against the locker with 6 feet of wiry detective pressed fully against him.
The taller man leaned down to claim his mouth in a rough but affectionate kiss before wandering down his neck to place possessive bites wherever he could find skin. John bit back a moan and brought one hand up to fist into a mop of dark curls while the other slid down between them to palm at the prominent bulge in his partner's trousers. He yanked hard at the roots of the detectives hair, pulling his head back roughly before reeling him in to crash back into his mouth.
Sherlock gave a low rumbling growl into his mouth and pushed him more forcefully against the locker, batting away his hand and pinning him impossibly harder with his hips as he rolled them teasingly into John's. A satisfied smile pressed against his mouth as John gave a less than quiet whimper in response while bucking back against him.
John slid both his hands down to firmly grab Sherlock's hips, intending to take control, but the younger man deduced his motives and, never breaking rhythm, grabbed the hands gripping him, entwining their fingers and pulling John's arms over his head with no chance of regaining control. He claimed his doctor's mouth again, moaning into a wet kiss, and gave another rough thrust against John's hips, pressing him hard into the wall he was pinned to...hard enough to rock the locker. They both heard the crack as the force against the door became too much, but it was already too late to stop it.
John lost his balance as Sherlock lost his grip on John, and the latter tumbled breathlessly out of the cramped cabinet, barely catching himself before he fell on his arse. A sheepish looking detective with wildly mussed hair peeked out, looking wide eyed past John at the group of yarders gawking at the scene.
And John realised he could care less who was there. Sod it, he thought, let them talk!
Pulling the locker door out of the way, exposing a very embarrassed Sherlock Holmes, he said loudly, "You know, you mad idiot, I absolutely love you, but if you want me to come 'OUT of the closet', you really need to stop putting me IN one!"