A/N: Sherlock and John don't belong to me. I wish they would though.

Warnings: Slash! That means guyxguy. Not your cup of tea? Well too bad, thanks for stopping by anyway.

Pairings: Sherlock/John

Set somewhere between "Blind Banker" and "Great Game". No spoilers.

This is the response to a prompt at BBC Sherlock kink meme: "Sherlock and John cross the line one too many times and Lestrade decides to teach them a lesson by locking them up in a cell for the night. It's been less than 5 minutes and Sherlock is already bored. There is nothing to distract him. Well nothing except John."

This is my first Sherlock story so feedback would be much appreciated. A big "Thank you" to PrincessNala who beta'd this story. All remaining mistakes are my own.


How to Entertain your Cellmate

"This is all your fault" John muttered for the umpteenth time. There was no answer, of course, but he didn't really expect one. That didn't keep him from complaining, though. It was a good way to blow of some steam and that was exactly what he needed right now.

John paced up and down the little cell that would be his home for the night and occasionally glared at the other person in the room who was resting comfortably on the only cot. Not for the first time today he wondered how he always stumbled into situations like these.

The real question probably wasn't "how" but "why", and the answer was the man on the cot. A man known by the name of Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes, the sociopath, the genius. John snorted. More like the bloody idiot since no person with just an ounce of intelligence would aggravate a certain Inspector Lestrade to the point where the man finally snapped and threw them both into a prison cell. Both of them meant obviously Sherlock and John. The doctor could only just stop himself from whining that that was so unfair since he hadn't done anything wrong.

Except moving in with Sherlock and following him around like an obedient puppy no matter what the man got himself into, that is.

Although, if he was being honest with himself, he had to admit that there was really nothing wrong with that. He liked spending time with the eccentric man and he wouldn't change the events that led up to him meeting Sherlock Homes even if he could. Life with Sherlock was interesting and dangerous – and that really shouldn't be a point in favor, but it was – and John had never felt quite this... content and free.

He could do without spending his nights in filthy jail cells, though.

"Why did you have to do that again?" he asked and rubbed his arms to keep the cold out of his bones. Lestrade obviously couldn't lock them in an actual real cell but had to put them in an old one in the cellar of the PD. John was pretty sure that this had to be some kind of kidnapping. He just wondered if it made any difference if the police did the kidnapping and one of the abductees deserved to be locked up?

Sherlock rose from the cot to pace the room alongside John. "I told you John. That was the only way to determine that the wife was the killer." He frowned and shook his head. "I still don't understand what drove Lestrade to do this."

"You really don't, do you?" John sighed. "I'm not surprised, though. He probably wonders how he should explain how the body turned up with another bloody hole in its head. And I meant that literally."

"I know you did. You seem to forget that I was the one to put it there." Sherlock sneered and stopped to inspect the crude drawing of a naked woman on the wall, the remains of a former prisoner, no doubt. "One night won't kill us John."

"How do you know that he won't leave us here for a whole week?" John asked, just this side of hysterical. Judging from the fury he'd seen on Lestrade's face he wouldn't put it past the man to leave them down here for much longer than a night. If he ever let them out at all.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course he'll let us out tomorrow. Lestrade seems to think that he needs to teach me some kind of lesson. Lessons only last for a very specific amount of time and the fact that you are here indicates that he isn't planning on leaving us here for an insufferable amount of time. So, tomorrow morning it is."

"Let's just hope that you are right. I have a date with Sarah tomorrow, I don't want to miss it."

He didn't notice the brief flash of irritation that washed over his friends face because he was too busy squinting into the dark corners of their cell to see if there were any rats down here. He couldn't stand the little beasts.

Five minutes later it was John who was lying on the cot and Sherlock pacing up and down the walls of their prison in barely concealed impatience.

"I'm bored!"

"I know."

"Bored. Bored. Bored."

"Yes Sherlock. I know."

"Even a visit from Mycroft, oh what do I say, even a conversation with Anderson has to be more exiting than this, John. I'm-"

"Bored! I know!" John yelled. This was going to be the worst night of his life, he just knew it. And that coming from a man who'd served in the army.

The consulting detective crossed his arms and looked at his flatmate inquiringly. "And what, pray tell, are you going to do about that?"

"Me?" John asked "Why should I entertain you?"

"Isn't it obvious? There is no one else here, so of course you have to do the good deed."

John didn't really see the logic there but he'd learned that you didn't argue with Sherlock over trivial things - or over anything at all, really.

"And how do you imagine I do that? Do a striptease for you?" he snorted and was only mildly worried when Sherlock didn't crack a smile but stared at him for a very long time, very intense. He did that thing again, where he pierced you with his eyes as if he could see right through your soul and for all John knew, he really did. It was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. And a bit scary too.

Just when he began to fidget under those eyes, the detective seemed to come to a decision and before John could even process what happened, Sherlock stood in front of him and got ready to slip onto the cot as well.

"Move over, would you John."

The doctor really did move over to make room for his friend, but mostly because his brain decided to shut itself off for a second.

"Wha- what are you doing?"

Sherlock settled besides him and John was too aware of the long, lean body pressed against his. He was practically trapped between the wall and the man and he didn't know whether he should try to escape or enjoy the warmth Sherlock provided.

"If I'm bored I can just as well go to sleep."

"This cot is not big enough for the two of us." John squeaked. Squeaked because someone had just thrown an arm over his waist and it was not the girl he was dating right now.

"Oh please, I would never expect you to sleep on the floor." Sherlock said and snuggled even closer.

John really didn't know what to think of the new touchy-feely Sherlock. And he really, really didn't know why the new Sherlock didn't bother him more. This was a man that was using him as some kind of giant teddy bear. He had every reason to be officially freaked out by now. But all he felt was a small twinge of discomfort and he suspected that that had more to do with the unexpected feeling of a man's arms around him and not with the fact that they were Sherlock's arms.

He relaxed more into the unfamiliar hold and took a deep breath. This really wasn't too bad, he thought. At least he would be warm.

"Who said it would be me, sleeping on the floor." he mumbled, eyes already heavy with fatigue.

Sherlock chuckled and the movement traveled through John's body as well, doing funny things to his belly.

"Well, it won't have to be either of us, right?" Sherlock's breath ghosted over John's cheek and the doctor shivered. Too bad he couldn't pretend that it was from the cold, since he was really toasty about now.

"I guess." he replied with a smile.

It was silent for a while and John was just about to fall asleep when Sherlock's arm over his waist inched lower until his hand rested on a part of John where not even Sarah had touched him yet. John immediately startled wide awake but he had nowhere to go, stuck between the wall and the man that patted his backside. He held his breath for a while, hoping against hope that Sherlock hadn't noticed what he was doing and would retract his hand. He needn't have bothered though. The great Sherlock Holmes did nothing by mistake.

"If you don't start breathing soon I may have to apply rescue breathing. Not that I would mind." Sherlock said and bloody hell, did he sound smug.

"What do you think you are doing?" John hissed and squirmed which did accomplish nothing but pressing his face even further into Sherlock's coat. And what a nice smelling coat it was.

'Back on track. Back on track' John thought frantically and almost missed Sherlock next words.

"I told you, I'm bored."

"So you fondle me because you are bored?" John didn't want to admit how much that thought hurt. Sadly enough he could really picture this being just one of his friend's weird experiments.

It wasn't like he hadn't fantasized about something like this before. Okay, so not exactly like this. He certainly hadn't expected to be stuck in an old jail cell at the time. He'd had some kinky ideas, but apparently the reality really was sometimes stranger than the imagination.

Of course he'd been attracted to Sherlock. He considered himself to be an average heterosexual man but no normal human being could ignore the man's attractiveness. At least that's what he told himself when he caught himself staring at Sherlock just a little bit too long.

He liked women. Men had never interested him. So he'd noticed Sherlock a little bit more than a man should another man but that didn't mean anything, right? And anyway, when the detective had told him point blank that he was married to his work, the smoldering flame of doubt in John's heart had been put as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water over it and he'd forgotten about those strange feelings that had fluttered in his chest when he'd seen the man the first time.

Soon he'd met Sarah and John had thought that he was happy with how things had worked out. But one night in 'jail' and his whole world got turned upside down yet again. The gathering warmth beneath his belly proved more than anything that he hadn't written his flatmate off as much as he'd wanted to believe.

On the one hand he felt elevated by the sudden change of mood but on the other hand he really didn't want to be just a distraction, or worse, an experiment. These new-found feelings were still too raw and unfamiliar and he still had some self-worth left, thank you very much.

Sherlock hesitated and John felt his heart sink. "Of course not. Just thought that it would be the appropriate time to make my interest clear."

"Because you are bored." John tried to go for sarcasm but he thought he just sounded small and weak.

Sherlock's arms around him tightened. "No, because we are alone and there is no Mrs. Hudson to barge in on us. Or anyone else for that matter. I dare assume that even my dear brother won't be able to tell what we are up to down here."

John supposed that made sense, but he was still unnaturally insecure about this. Sherlock began to nuzzle his neck and the doctor couldn't help the small moan that escaped his lips.

"No, wait, I-" he choked and squirmed even more. He wondered why Sherlock wasn't backing off until he realized that he didn't push him away, but drew him closer. His body really didn't give a damn about what his mind told him today, huh?

"I won't wait Dr. Watson. I've waited long enough. And you know that I don't do patience very well." The way Sherlock said his name raised goosebumps on his neck and when a hand reached under his sweater he knew that he was lost. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd never been a match for Sherlock. Didn't mean he couldn't try.

"But I, I mean, I'm with Sarah and-"

His companion growled and that shouldn't have been sexy, but dear God it was. John wondered what was wrong with him that a primal and possessive Sherlock Homes groping him in a jail cell turned him on. "Sarah is redundant. I expect you to break up with her first thing in the morning."

John was slightly miffed but not as much as he should be. He couldn't really imagine being with Sarah one second longer anyway. Not after experiencing long, slender fingers all over his body and Sherlock's musky breath all over his face.

"I just... not here. Not now." It took herculean effort to push the larger man back a bit, mostly because of his own reluctance to do so. His breath was already coming hard and fast and he realized that he wanted this very much. It was just the intensity of his sudden feelings and the rapidness with which things were happening that scared him.

Sherlock looked him in the eyes and raised an eyebrow. "I see. So you want our first sexual intercourse to be something special. Romantic, I assume."

John nodded before he flushed. "Who said that there would be sexual intercourse? And don't call it that." he added belatedly.

His friend – lover? - smirked. "You said not now, not here. That indicates that you'll be willing another time, another place."

John groaned when he realized his mistake. He really ought to think before speaking when Sherlock was around.

The man wrapped around him laughed. John had never noticed before that he really liked that sound. He closed his eyes and felt the pressure of warm lips on his forehead traveling down his temple and cheek before settling on his mouth, light as a feather.

"I don't think you considered the advantages our current situation could provide." Sherlock whispered against his lips. "Judging from the state of the walls I expect that we can be as loud as we want and I admit that I don't have an insight in your usual sex practices, but I consider doing it in a jail cell to be pretty special-"

John slapped his chest hard enough to sting, but the smile on his face was genuine.

"Is that your version of pillow talk?"

"Is that required? I'm sure I could do better but I hate to admit that I'm rather unprepared." Sherlock sounded honestly distressed and John was oddly touched.

"No," he breathed. "This is fine."

It didn't take Sherlock Holmes, genius extraordinaire, long to prove to one Dr. John Watson that a jail cell really did have its own special merits.


Morning came around much too soon and it found a very bemused DI Lestrade in front of a lonely jail cell, staring though the rusted bars. He'd had a lot of time imagining the various different scenarios of what he would find upon coming down here to release the two troublemakers, but finding them semi-naked, lying together on the cot, really hadn't been one of them. There had been rumors about this of course, but John had always denied them and Sherlock hadn't seemed to care, so Lestrade had assumed that they were just that; rumors.

But now here he was, standing in front of that cell and staring at Sherlock and John sleeping together and entangled in each others arms. The taller man was almost on top of John and his face showed a serene happiness that Lestrade had never seen on him before. The Inspector couldn't help but smile. He'd wanted to teach them a lesson, but this was certainly not what he'd had in mind.

"Go away." He startled at the harsh whisper and saw Sherlock crack one of his eyes open to glare at him. "Come back later."

Lestrade only smirked and turned to go. Not a lot of people knew it but he was a romantic at heart. He would come back in a few hours to let them out. For now he was content to let them enjoy each other a little bit more.

Shortly after he turned the corner that would lead him to the exit he could hear John's sleepy voice echo through the empty space. Lestrade wasn't just a romantic, he was also quite curious and so despite his better knowledge he stopped for a moment to listen.

"Wasn't that Lestrade?"


"Are you sure, could have sworn I heard something."

"You are mistaken. I guess he'll leave us down here for a bit longer than I thought."


"And John." There was a shuffling sound, followed by a loud gasp. "I'm bored again."

Lestrade turned and left as fast as he could. There were things not even a detective needed to know.



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