Sherlock was lying on the sofa in 221B Baker Street, his eyes closed lightly. He was in comfy clothes and his blue robe. John was sitting in the chair next to the sofa. Mycroft was standing nearby and Lestrade was standing next to him.

"No," Sherlock said flatly.

"I haven't even asked a question yet," Lestrade said.

"I'm not pressing charges," Sherlock said, his eyes opening and looking at the inspector and his brother.

"Sherlock…" Mycroft said.

"You of all people have no room to talk Mycroft," Sherlock snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest and pouted like a child.

"Sherlock, you were hurt, that was evident. You're lucky to be alive!" Lestrade said, "And you're telling me that you don't want to press charges against the man who kidnapped you and according to John, raped you repeatedly."

"Is there any evidence?" Sherlock asked.

"We had that DVD, but it disappeared," John said.

"All you have is Mycroft and John's word," Sherlock said, "The house where I was apparently being held has been on the market for the past week and was sold yesterday. What would be the point of pressing charges, trying to find a man whom you Will. Not. Find!"

John sighed. He got up to get the kettle. He gave Mycroft and Lestrade a look to follow him. They held a brief whispered conference in the kitchen that Sherlock could fully hear.

"He thinks he's in love with Moriarty," John said, "We need to do everything we can to distract him from that and get him back on his feet."

"I actually did bring something," Lestrade said, "I referred a case to you. They should be visiting this afternoon."

Lestrade walked over and set Sherlock's tea down. Next to it he set a file folder.

"Brought you a case to work on," he said, "It seemed your area so I referred them to you."

"I don't want it," Sherlock said.

"Well, you haven't even looked at it yet," Lestrade said.

"I am not ready to resume my work," Sherlock said, "I just want to be left alone!"

Lestrade frowned a bit but he nodded.

"Just send her back to us then when he turns her away," he said to John. Mycroft looked very worried. Sherlock only scowled at him until he left.

Once the flat was empty apart from John and himself, Sherlock sat up.

"Jooohhhnnn" he gave a slight whine. His arms wrapped around the doctor and he nuzzled him.

"Sherlock… we talked about this," John said, not looking very amused.

"Please…." Sherlock whispered softly, "John… please…"

Sherlock was rubbing up against John's body.

"You're never going to regain control of your libido if you don't practice some self-control," John said.

"John… I neeed it…" Sherlock whined, "Please, John… wouldn't you rather it be with someone safe, that I can trust?"

"Damnit Sherlock! I have a girlfriend! I'm not having gay sex with you!" John snapped. Sherlock flinched and looked rather hurt.

"You know, I'm pretty damn hot John," Sherlock said with a heavy pout, "It wouldn't be hard to find a one night stand to satisfy me!"

"You are not leaving this flat," John said firmly.

"Joooohn…. You're killing me…" Sherlock whined, clinging onto him, "Pleeeeeaaase…."

"Damn it Sherlock!" John yelled at him, "You do not love Jim Moriarty ok?! This is all a phase. Practice a little self-control and before you know it you'll be solving cases and everything will be normal again. Frankly, I can't believe you wouldn't press charges against that maniac! After what he did to you!"

"I wish you would do some things to me John," Sherlock whispered, kissing on the doctor's neck. John bristled, pushing Sherlock away.

"You know what Sherlock, fine," he said, "If you want to shag that bad, go to the pub and find your Goddamned one night stand. But I want a text when you reach that pub, and I want a text when you leave. If you go to someone's house, I want to know where."

"What are you, my mum?" Sherlock asked.

"If your mum could see you, she'd probably die of shock from what I'm told, "John scolded him.

"I'll text you, I promise," Sherlock said, "A drink might be all I really need to calm down. I'm sorry John."

"I understand Sherlock… I really do," John said, "I know you're suffering inside."

"Thank you, John, that will do," Sherlock said. He pulled on his coat and scarf and left the flat. John watched him leave, more than a little worried. It would be the first time he had left on his own since he'd gotten out of the hospital.

Sherlock took a cab to a nearby pub. There was a pathetic live band playing on an even more pathetic stage, but Sherlock shrugged a bit and went in. He ordered some Scotch and sipped the drink. He felt the burning, numbing sensation the alcohol had, removing his already well diminished inhibitions. He glanced around the room for a target. He would go with man or woman, but was hoping for male. Someone who was attractive, but not diseased.

"Hello there, sexy," Sherlock heard an all too familiar voice. He spun around in his seat. He stared.

"I…" he began but a finger was pressed to his lips.

"Shh… shh… don't speak," Moriarty whispered, "Come with me."

Sherlock needed no prodding. He followed like an obedient puppy. Jim led him to his private car and as soon as the door was shut, Sherlock desperately kissed Jim, mewling softly. Jim didn't mind, his arms wrapping around the consulting detective.

"Master… master… I missed you…" Sherlock whined.

"I could tell," Jim said, kissing him deeply, his tongue exploring him. All thoughts of what was good for him was gone and all Sherlock wanted was to have Jim make love to him.

"Master…" he whined, "Please… I need you. I need you so much…"

"Oh God, you're so sexy…" Moriarty whispered, "Say my name baby…"

"J-Jim…. Jim…" Sherlock panted.

"That nasty doctor was going to let you come out here and fuck a stranger," Moriarty whispered, his fingers playing with Sherlock's hair, "I couldn't allow that."

"Oooh…. Please fuck me…." Sherlock whimpered. Jim could see how desperate Sherlock was for sex. He wanted it so badly, he was begging and pleading, and it was really sinking in how much he had messed the detective up.

"Ummmmmm… no," Jim said and Sherlock's face fell.

"But… but why not?" the detective asked. Jim caressed his face softly.

"In the back of cab? Seems a little trashy doesn't it?" Jim said, "I know how much you want it Sherlock… But you're going to have to learn patience."

Sherlock whimpered. He was already hard with desire for Jim.

"You can't live with me," Jim said, "And apparently, you now can't live without me. You love me Sherlock. You've fallen for me completely."

Sherlock looked up at him like a guilty child.

"They told you it was just Stockholm Syndrome, didn't they?" Jim asked, "You're not that weak-minded my love."

Jim was lovingly running his fingers through Sherlock's curls.

"If you're going to love me, and continue to be a consulting detective, you're going to have to be much more patient," Jim said, "And there are a lot of rules I'm going to lay down for you. Do you want it that bad? Think carefully. There will be cases you won't be permitted to take, no matter how tempting there are. You will be mine, body, mind and soul."

Sherlock looked up at Jim. He wasn't sure. All he knew was that his body was screaming for sex.

"You think about it," Jim said. He pulled Sherlock into his lap. "Daddy will take care of you."

Jim's hand unbuttoned and unzipped Sherlock's pants, revealing how hard he was.

"You thought I wouldn't notice?" Jim asked, kissing Sherlock's neck and slowly helping him with his erection. Sherlock moaned and was panting heavily.

"J-Jim!" he cried out. Jim was texting with Sherlock's phone with his free hand.

"Heading home –SH"

The cab began to drive back to Baker Street. Sherlock was brought to a shuddering orgasm just as they turned the corner onto his street. Jim kissed him sweetly.

"Think about what I've said," Jim said, "And don't let me catch you surfing for sex in a seedy pub again."

Sherlock got out and the cab drove away.