A/N: A request, thought I'd fill it seeing as I had inspiration from the unwitting Bookspazz. Her story 'Surprise' sparked and idea and this was the result.


Sherlock groaned in pain from the bathroom, and John found himself bolting towards the door, sucking on the scalded fingers of his right hand – he'd forgotten his cup of tea, and it got it's rache by splashing itself all over him.

"Are you alright Sherlock?" he said, opening the door. Sherlock was massaging his left shoulder, the one he always left funny on.

"I got a cramp, John." Sherlock pouted – something John secretly loved. It was moment when Sherlock was like a child, and by George was Sherlock a cute child.

"Would you like me to massage it for you?" John asked in a voice that showed he knew the answer already. By the time Sherlock nodded John had already stripped off his tea-ey top and was now throwing his pants into the hamper that never got used.

He hopped under the partial shower spray that Sherlock was hogging, between Sherlock's back and the wall. He began to knead muscles around the spine while ignoring the whopping hard on that was now between them. Perhaps if he ignored it, it would go away. He concentrated on Sherlock's back, moving down slowly to the base of his spine and back up, pulling on Sherlock's shoulders to make him stand up straight.

But all this concentration hadn't discouraged the leaking, throbbing, red, sensitive – okay John, enough adjectives. It's only a penis – piece of flesh. In fact, the touching of his lover seemed to have made the thing more persistent. Which John figured was actually quite logical.

"My turn," Sherlock rumbled, because really he felt like thunder talking sometimes. Maybe he was secretly Thor, and he'd just lost his hammer in his room somewhere. But, Thor or not, this man had turned John towards the wall and was now pressing his fingers into John – only his muscles unfortunately, or so John thought, until he found himself pressed against the wall, someone else's erection pressed against his back and Sherlock's ragged breathing in his ear.

"Why are you so God damn irresistible!" Sherlock said in a mixture of pain and anger, almost yelling the last word and punctuating by slamming his fist against the wall.

John felt a shiver go down his spine. Sherlock was very passionate sometimes. He felt a hand stroke his cock and he whined, like a puppy does.

"Can I fuck you?" Sherlock whimpered, the fight gone out of him. John was left breathless and could only nod, yelping in shock at the lube covered fingers entering him as he did it. Of course Sherlock had anticipated his answer.

Preparation wouldn't take very long, Sherlock had dipped his stick not two hours ago, before they pulled themselves out of bed for stupid Lestrade's stupid not-case that was solved before they got there.

Even so, Sherlock took a little bit of time to torture John, running fingers over prostate more times than was necessary. Soon though, Sherlock was the one moaning so hard it would get stuck in his throat, and he'd choke slightly and try to breathe back in and shudder. Sherlock did that quite often and John loved it.

John felt himself sliding against the cold hard tiles – Sherlock was stronger than he looked, and even stronger than that when he had his cock inside of you.

Sherlock hit a spot inside John at that very moment and John found himself wailing into the tiles, and Sherlock sobbed and sent his seed a-flying. John wasn't far behind and soon they were both leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.

"I love you, John."