Title: Deflowered

Fandom: Sherlock BBC / Mob!AU

Author: Lorelei Lee

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Disclaimer: everything belongs to ACD, the BBC and Moftiss.

Not betaed, not brit-picked, english is not my first language. I just wrote this "quick and dirty", because this damn plotbunny wouldn't leave me alone.

Inspired by these tumblr pics:

mrs - mob - johnlocked . tumblr post / 47382376565 / mob - au - boss - john - bought - the - first - night - of


John Watson – better known as The Doctor (a nickname he despised, but had finally accepted) was bored.

His latest fucktoy had to be eliminated because he hadn't known when to shut his mouth and when to open it wide. His advisor Mike Stamford – an old friend from the old days when John hadn't been The Boss – suggested he should satisfy his appetite with professionals.

Just for a while" he had added hastily as he had recognized John's dark look. Same fun, less fuss" he had told John.

John had snorted. Less fuss was a sure thing. But the same fun? Also John didn't like to pay for things he could get for free. But this latest elimination had caused a real disturbance with the police and an unreasonable prize had been demanded from Inspector Dimmock to stop all the investigations.

So John had – rather grudgingly – agreed with Mike and on this evening went to Miss Adler's brothel which catered to his tastes. He hadn't visited her in months and so he was surprised to hear from the other guests of a new boy, who's virginity was on auction today. The highest bidder would get the first night.

The auction hasn't started yet, so John tried to get a little more information about the mysterious boy, but all he could gather was his name (Sherlock), the general statement that he was a freak, but brilliant at everything he does and the fact that he had worked already for three months for Miss Adler, with his virginity still intact.

John was intrigued and his boredom forgotten. When Miss Adler joined her guests and started the auction, this Sherlock-boy was nowhere in sight, and John was surprised at how fast the biddings went higher and higher. He waited just a few more minutes and then voiced his bid. Silence fell as the other guests tried to imagine the amount he was willing to pay for the virginity of a rent-boy.

Only Miss Adler grinned like the Chesire Cat, congratulated him, took his cheque and escorted him to a room on the second floor.

"I wish you a very satisfying evening, Doctor," she whispered and walked away, humming under her breath.


John opened the door without knocking, went inside and closed the door behind him. Only then he took a look around. A luxurious bed with dark red satin covers and too many cushions to count, a discreet cupboard which (as John knows from earlier visits) contains all the supplies and toys a guest might need and two comfortable armchairs.

One of the armchairs was already occupied by his prize – the virgin boy. No, not a boy... a man. A man in a smart, black suit - his long legs nonchalantly crossed. John was slightly surprised. Sherlock looked older than he had anticipated. He looked still young, but that was perhaps because of his slender frame, his pale, marble-like skin and his boyish, dark curls. Sherlock looked at ease, but there was a slightly nervous twitch in his eyes and in his fingers, although his hands where folded in his lap.

Neither of them had spoken a single word. Each of them busy with looking and cataloguing the other.

Finally John broke the silence.

"You know why I'm here?" he asked.

"Yes," Sherlock said and John was once again surprised. This time by the rich, dark and enticing baritone and by the bored tone. "You're here to deflower me."

John smiled. Oh, this one would be fun to break!

"Deflowered?" He shook his head. "Deflowering is for blushing maidens. You're not a blushing maiden, Sherlock. You're a boy-slut. I'm here to break you in." His smile grew wider and he showed Sherlock his white teeth. "Miss Adler auctioned your ass off. I won, I paid... and now you're mine."

Sherlock sent him an unsure look and played with the top button of his tight shirt.

John took seat in the second armchair.

"Please, take off all your clothes," he asked in a very polite voice but with his devilish smile, which was – in some circles – even more feared than a death sentence.

To be continued...