ATTENTION: This contains spoiler for the movie, so if you haven't seen it yet, I suggest you don't read it. Seriously. I'm not joking around here. Though I know for super devoted fans, they've probably already seen in 5 times already, so it shouldn't be a problem. lol
Title: A Different Kind of Honeymoon
Warning(s): sex scene, though nothing in too much detail (plus a poor attempt at witty banter on my part)
Summary: Sherlock has an interesting plan to waylay their attackers, and while John may not be approving at first, he soon falls into the groove.
"Now isn't this convenient?" Sherlock commented offhandedly. John's head was between his legs, his thighs wrapped tightly around the other man's throat to a) prevent escape and b) prevent attack.
"Holmes, let me go!"
"So you can attack me? I think not." He heard footsteps right outside the door and tried to crane his neck to see over John's head. "Besides, I believe we have more pressing matters to which we should attend."
The footsteps died down, and so did John's attempts at causing Sherlock bodily harm. "What do you propose we do, then?"
Sherlock smirked then used the "convenient" position to roll them off of the seat; he released John from his head-lock and dragged him up to lie on top of him.
"What are you playing at?" John asked, wary of Sherlock's twisted schemes.
"We have to make it seem legitimate," Sherlock replied, in no way revealing his plans. "Kiss me, Watson."
"What? Are you mad?" John tried to push himself off, but Sherlock's arms around his neck dragged him back down. "I'm not going to kiss you, Holmes," he hissed.
"Oh, just do it!" Sherlock whispered back furiously. "They'll be opening that door at any moment. We need a distraction."
John grimaced, knowing that Sherlock was right. As always. He steeled himself, and with Sherlock's smirk the last image imprinted on his mind before he shut his eyes, he leaned down and met his lips.
There was an explosion of something behind it, but John couldn't place it; his head went fuzzy and the only thing he could feel was Sherlock's hands caressing his back, the only thing he could hear was Sherlock's heavy breathing into his mouth, the only thing he could see was Sherlock. He pressed in harder, bringing every inch of their bodies into contact.
After a few moments, he pulled away and opened his eyes to – once again – Sherlock's smirk. "I do believe you enjoyed that far more than you originally let on, Watson."
"Shut up, Holmes. Now what?"
"Well, that was just the first part of my plan."
John sighed, mentally smacking himself in the face. "And I suppose you aren't going to tell me what part two is, are you?"
A smile was all Sherlock offered in reply before he started taking his clothes off, one article at a time. He peered up at John's bewildered face and said, "I don't think talking will be required for this part of the plan." He ran his hand up John's arm and over his collarbone until he reached the knot of the doctor's tie; he tugged on it lightly, loosening it. "Neither will we be needing clothes."
"Are you seriously suggesting-?"
"Does it look like I'm not serious?"
"Honestly, I don't know what to think about you anymore, Holmes." Even as he said this, his hands were unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down to mid-thigh. "But I believe that we should leave our clothes on, in the event that we need to make a quick escape."
"Excellent reasoning, dear Watson. I think I'll keep you around."
It was John's turn to smirk as he lifted up Sherlock's skirt and pulled down his pants; he had taken a bottle of ointment he kept on-hand out of his jacket pocket and poured some on his fingers. He was just reaching down to prepare Sherlock when the man beneath him started to complain.
"Watson. Watson. What do you think you're doing, Watson?"
"You said you wanted it to be legitimate, remember? Is this not 'legitimate' enough for you?"
"Perhaps a little bit too legitimate." Sherlock looked up into John's eyes, seeing the longing there. "Although… how long have you been dreaming about this moment?"
"I-I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, don't be so daft, Watson, I can see it in your eyes. You've been wanting this to happen for a long while, haven't you?"
"W-Well, not exactly like this. But this is mad, Holmes, completely barmy. I'm cheating on my wife. With you."
"You haven't consummated the marriage, yet, so it's not technically cheating."
"Technically isn't good enough, Holmes."
John had had enough, so he resumed his earlier task of preparing Sherlock, inserting two fingers without any warning. Sherlock had just enough time to grunt and squirm before John started moving them around, and he could tell that the time for talking was over.
It was a fast, frenzied coupling, the knowledge that they could be caught at any moment lingering over their heads. Footsteps were hurrying past the compartment in both directions, bullets were flying in the corridor, and they just lay on the ground, John taking Sherlock in the most primitive of ways.
They were both so close when the door slid open. Sherlock threw his head to the side, both out of pure ecstasy and the need to keep his identity secret. John dropped his head but didn't stop thrusting, snaking his hand underneath the seat where his gun lay hidden.
The man at the door had raised his gun, not realizing that the two people having sex on the compartment floor were the two they had been searching for. John chose that moment to pull the gun, shooting the man in the shoulder; another one rounded the corner, and he shot him in the leg.
Sherlock groaned then and came with a muffled shout in his hand; John slammed his hand back onto the floor, gun still cocked, and thrust a few more times before he too released himself. Two more men appeared, and they also fell victim to the doctor's good shooting.
"We should get moving," Sherlock suggested. "I expect there are more on the way."
John pushed himself up, helping Sherlock to stand; they both righted their clothing and made their way to the outside of the train. They were crawling along the edge, moving farther up the train, when a sudden thought occurred to John.
Throwing out his leg and kicking Sherlock in the shin, he yelled, "I'm on my honeymoon!"
Sherlock merely smirked.