John slowly climbed the stairs to 221B with a paper sack of groceries in each arm. He set the bags down on the landing and took his keys from his jacket pocket and opened the door, only to be greeted by his flatmate's ever-present complaints.

"Bored!" Sherlock exclaimed, flailing his arms as he splayed out on the sofa. "There's absolutely nothing to do!" he whined as he rolled his head to look at John.

"Stop whining. It isn't a very appealing trait, you know." John sighed as he shoved some of Sherlock's "experiments" out of the way to set down the groceries he had just picked up.

"Don't ruin my experiments! I don't want to need to repeat them! One has taken over a week to..."

"Oh they'll be fine," John said dismissively. "You wouldn't need to worry about me ruining them if you would clean up after yourself, or at least organize things a little...or, maybe, pick up the groceries yourself! As much as you act it will, it really won't kill you, I promise!"

"HMPF!" Sherlock groaned into one of the sofa's throw pillows he was smothering his face with, pouting.

John took this moment of Sherlock smothering himself as a golden opportunity to admire his flatmate's bare torso that his dressing gown had fallen away from. Sherlock's body was pale and slender...and quite a bit more than "very" appealing. John decided he was done with defensively proclaiming that he was was tedious, and it was a lie anyway.

John wasn't surprised Sherlock was bored. They hadn't had a case in weeks, and while John had a job at the surgery several days a week to keep himself busy, Sherlock was cooped up in the flat, trying to occupy himself without shooting holes in the wall-last time he had done that he had upset Mrs. Hudson quite a bit.

John walked over to Sherlock and lifted the pillow off his face. Sherlock looked at John with large bright eyes and asked, "Yes?"

"Would you like to watch a video or something? I know you've been bored with the lack of work with the Yard, and most of the time you just lay around in your pajamas and, well, honestly, complain."

"John, I have a very exceptional and complicated mind, and without stimulation I feel as though I am allowing my brain to rot."

John rolled his eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you can be really melodramatic?"

"Not many people comment on my personality or related affectations."

"Ohhhhhh they do, Sherlock. Just not to your face."

"How rude," Sherlock said plainly, before violently shoving the pillow back over his face.

"Sherlock, let's just watch a video. I'll find something, uh, "stimulating". There's a movie called 'Pi' by Darren Aronofsky I think you might enjoy. Or at least that's the best I've got at the moment. You're...ummm...kind of difficult to please."

Sherlock sat up and waved his hand dismissively. "Aronofsky? It'll be fine. Surely better than laying here staring at the ceiling."

"How can you stare at the ceiling with that pillow on your head?"

"A figure of speech, John. A figure of speech."

"Whatever, Sherlock." John went to his room and brought back a folder type disc holder. He removed a disc marked with Sharpie writing and popped it into the DVD player, and then moved the TV so that they could watch it from the sofa.

Within minutes it was obvious that this was not the film John had intended to show Sherlock. This was gay porn.

"Oh god, oh god...this...this is not the right film..." John stood to turn the television off but was blocked by Sherlock's arm.

"No, no...this is interesting. Have you ever done that?" Sherlock asked, pointing at the image on the screen of a man performing oral sex on another man.

John slid his hands down and off his face and looked at the television. His cheeks were red and burning when he responded with a "Yeah, yeah, a few times. In the army...can we pleaseturn this off?"

"Why? I don't see what the problem've obviously seen it before, as this is not mydisc..."


"John..." Sherlock sighed quietly, "I don't know how to do" he flourished his arms to indicate the screen, "all this."


The corners of Sherlock's mouth curled up deviously and he looked John in the eyes. "Care to show me? I've seen you looking..."

"Damn you," John breathed as he climbed onto Sherlock's lap, straddling him. He could feel the heat and pressure of Sherlock's erection through his pajamas pressing against him and his own cock leapt in excitement.

John peeled off Sherlock's dressing gown and started running his hands on the tall man's lanky torso. John buried his face in his long, graceful neck and sucked and nibbled on the delicate flesh there. Sherlock started to breathe more heavily, and John took this as a cue to grind his hips into Sherlock's.

After a while it became evident that Sherlock was still watching the video as John tried to fool around with him.

"You know it's awfully rude to watch that instead of paying attention to what I'm doing," John said.

"And when has anyone been terribly concerned with whether or not I'm being rude?"

"Do you wanta blow job?"

Sherlock picked up the remote and turned off the television.

"Content, John?" he asked, looking at John innocently.

His answer could be inferred by John's hasty removal of his own t-shirt and a particularly desperate grind of his hips against Sherlock's.

Sherlock's mouth opened slightly as his jaw slackened at the sight of John's defined upper body. He lifted his hand to trace the scar on John's shoulder with his fingertips. It was raised and lightly pigmented, and Sherlock thought it looked a little bit like an exploding star. He let his lips brush it lightly, barely making contact. John paused what he was doing and looked at Sherlock, who met his gaze with wide and innocent eyes, wondering if he had done something wrong.

"Did that hurt?"

"'s one touches it."

"I'll stop..."

"No..." John started, before pulling back Sherlock's head by his curls, nipping his neck just below his earlobe, then pushing him back into the sofa and lowering himself into a kneeling position between his legs on the floor.

Sherlock looked down at him with a confused look.

"Blowjob?" John answered, as though it were obvious.

Sherlock bit his lip. "I've never had one..."

"I don't know whether to say, 'Poor thing' or 'You need to get out more,'" John chuckled.

"Okay, never mind. None of this..." Sherlock said, avoiding eye contact with John and starting to stand. John caught him halfway up and pushed him back down onto the sofa.

"I'm sorry I teased, okay? I really am," John said in earnest. He held Sherlock down by the hips and nuzzled his softening lap, then looked back up at his face. Sherlock was biting his bottom lip and his cheeks were beginning to flush again, and he still wouldn't make eye contact. He took a deep breath and exhaled forcefully, then said, "Fine. You can do whatever you want."

John grinned triumphantly. He was tempted to say, "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry I'm making you go through this awful horrible inconvenience of getting a blowjob!"but decided against it. Instead he unzipped his jeans and pulled them and his shorts halfway down his thighs, releasing his own erection and taking it in hand. Sherlock looked down at what his flatmate was doing and skipped a breath. John chuckled and ran his other hand over Sherlock's lap. Sherlock whimpered softly and bucked his hips against John's palm in response. His erection was full and hard and visibly defined in his pajama bottoms.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you now?" John asked playfully, stroking himself slowly and rhythmically as he caught Sherlock's gaze.

"Y-yye-es," Sherlock cracked. "Yes...please." His final word was filled with need and barely registered above a whisper. Sherlock's forehead was knit and crumpled, and his eyes were locked with John's. Sherlock's erection was tenting his pajama bottoms, and had he been wearing proper pants, would have been painfully hard at this point.

"I've never had oral sex before," Sherlock said softly, a tinge of nervousness in his voice.

"Well, there's a first time for everything, mate." He winked.

"And are you sure you want to do this? I thought you weren't gay..."

"'m not. I'm bisexual," John grinned. "And have you seenmy cock right now?"

"Ha, well, I suppose so..." Sherlock replied nervously, his own cock straining harder against his pants as he looked back at John's again, which had gotten larger and harder since he had first released it from his jeans. It was thick and heavy, and pre-cum was beading on the tip, making his foreskin glide smoothly over it as he stroked himself lazily.

John let go of himself, rocked forward and upright onto his knees, then placed one hand on each side of Sherlock's waistband.

"Are you ready?" he asked gently.

Sherlock bit his lower lip-hard-and lifted his hips to allow John to pull down his pajamas. His aching cock sprang up in John's face and John tried to take it into his mouth without hands as he continued to pull Sherlock's bottoms off. He managed a strong lick. Sherlock yelped.

John pulled Sherlock's pants all the way off and splayed his legs apart, then kneeled between them. He asked him if he was okay and was answered with a quick, violent nod.

Sherlock's cock was shaped like the man it belonged to-long and slender. It was by no means fact, John found it quite appealing. He found it strange, however, that he had no pubic hair.

"Sherlock, if you don't sleep with people, why do you bother shaving?"

"I simply don't like to have body hair. Is there a problem?" Sherlock asked, suddenly concerned.

"No, no...I like it, actually..." John mumbled as he stroked his flatmate's cock with one hand and his own with the other, and then took Sherlock in his mouth as far as his gag reflex would let him.

Sherlock threw back his head and groaned, the fingers of one hand knit in the hair on the back of John's head and the other hand knotted in his own curls.

John started to get a rhythm going as he bobbed his mouth up and down on Sherlock's cock. Sherlock kept his hand on John's head and clenched and unclenched his fingers in his hair and he sucked him.

It didn't take very long for Sherlock to start trying to thrust down John's throat. He was obviously trying to be as quiet and composed as possible but it just wasn't working out. Not even Sherlock could control himself when he was getting sucked off.

John took his mouth off Sherlock's cock and started to take his testicles in his mouth one at a time. He was grateful right now for Sherlock's smoothness, though he would have done it anyway. John wasn't one to complain. He'd sucked off men living out in remote desert camps.

Sherlock's legs tensed up and he fidgeted a little, obviously anxious to have John's mouth on his cock again. But Sherlock was not in control right now. That was driving him crazy, but he was the one getting oral right now, so he shouldn't complain.

"Hold on a second," John said, standing and pulling his pants up. He walked over to his medical kit on the desk and took out a nitrile glove and some lubricant.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"You'll see. Just be patient," John replied as he walked back to him. He went back to stroking Sherlock's cock while cupping and sucking his balls. He got him hard and impatient again before stopping and putting on the glove.

"What is all that for?" Sherlock asked, gesturing towards the glove and lube.

"You'll see," John grinned, spreading Sherlock's legs farther apart and shifting his hips forward. He slicked the fingers of the glove up with lube and rested his other hand on Sherlock's hip. "I'm going to use the gloved hand to stimulate your prostate while I suck your cock…if that's okay. I promise to stop if you don't like it. Okay?"

Sherlock thought a moment then nodded. John took Sherlock's cock into his mouth again and started pumping it with one hand. With the gloved hand he gently pressed a lubricated finger against his opening. He paused working his mouth a moment to ask permission to proceed, then gingerly slid his finger into Sherlock.

Sherlock tensed with surprise, then relaxed as John gently rubbed his prostate while he sucked his cock.

Sherlock started to breathe faster and start tensing up and trying to thrust into John's mouth as John continued to go down on him. He began to whine and pull John's hair as he approached orgasm.

"John, John, I'm going to come…I'm going to come…"

John chuckled with his mouth still on Sherlock, and that buzzing sensation was enough to drive him over the edge.

"JOHHHHHHHHHN! UNNNNNNNNNNNNNNHGGG…!" Sherlock shouted as he came into John's mouth, practically ripping his hair out.

John swallowed, then took his mouth off Sherlock and removed his finger. He looked at the man—panting, covered in beads of sweat, collapsed back into the sofa—and grinned triumphantly.

"Maybe later you can help me take care of this?" John asked him, gesturing towards his half-hard cock he had tucked back into his jeans.

"I can try…but damn, when am I going to recover from what you just did to me?" Sherlock asked, still panting.

"Take a nap," John smiled, patting him on the head.

"Fine!" he sighed dramatically, and collapsed spread-eagle on the couch.

"Jesus Christ, there just is no way to get him to stop whining, is there?" John thought aloud as he climbed the stairs to his room.

A loud, "AFRAID NOT!" echoed up the stairwell, answering his question.

Bloody git.

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