Don't you love it when things nag, nag, nag at your brain clawing to get out? Well this is one of them. I hope you enjoy. I have no beta for this so I apologize for any mistakes I've missed. Also, it's not been "brit-picked" per se, but I have lived in the UK for the past 2 1/2 years, so although I'm from the US, I tried my best.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is rolling in his grave somewhere... WHAT DID YOU EXPECT WRITING WATSON AND HOLMES THIS WAY?! That is all.

It was his consulting detective at his office after hours, without an open case, and with a devious sparkle in his eye, which made Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade feel like something was amiss. He undoubtedly is up to something, he thought, waving Sherlock in.

"All right, Sherlock?" He was randomly shuffling papers about his desk to avoid making eye contact.

"Would you come along to Baker Street? I need your help with something." That caught Greg's attention.

Baker Street. He froze and his eyes met Sherlock's piercing gaze. There was nothing on that pale, chiseled face to indicate what he wanted; it was as neutral as ever. "Y-you want me to come by yours?" He hadn't been by 221B Baker Street since he'd broke up with John about a month ago, and that incident was and is a delicate matter between the three of them.

Sherlock knew that the Greg and John dated for a few months, of course he knew, and he didn't like it but he never said anything. Despite the fact that people thought Sherlock had no feelings, he wanted John to be happy. He liked it even less when Greg decided that 4 months into a relationship was the appropriate time to question his sexuality. Greg dumped John in a panic, not sure that he wanted to be in a relationship with a man at all anymore. To say the least, Greg was nervous to go to Baker Street because he hadn't seen John since the day he left. John never made it out to crimes scenes anymore, which was to be expected. Even Sherlock didn't speak to him for days until he was forced to do so for an important case. Sherlock knew all of this but still asked for him over anyway.

"Yes. Were you not listening, Lestrade?" Sherlock paced impatiently in the small office waiting for an answer.

"Uh… yeah, I heard. Give us a moment." He didn't know why he agreed but found himself voicing that he would go and he followed Sherlock out of the office.

Greg climbed out of the cab first and stood staring at the front door as Sherlock paid the cabbie. Glancing up at the windows he knew belonged to 221B, he noted the lights were on, but as far as he could tell, no one was moving about inside. Perhaps John isn't in, he thought hopefully. Greg wasn't prepared to confront him yet even though he'd already come to terms that leaving John Watson was the worst decision of his lifetime.

Sherlock clapped a hand to his shoulder as he passed him to unlock the door. Snapping out of his thoughts, he joined his consulting detective up the stairs to the flat. Sherlock immediately shed his scarf and coat while Greg cautiously looked around for John.

"Sherlock, before you come to bed could you please remove the eyeballs fr—" John came around the corner from the kitchen and stopped short at seeing Greg there in their living room. The Detective Inspector looked down at the carpet and shuffled his feet, not looking at either of them. He could see John from the corner of his eye though and could tell from the way his shoulders slumped, the man was upset to see him.

Before John could put up an argument, Sherlock reached out to turn John's face to him and chastely kissed him on the lips. "Hello, John." The gesture was obvious to everyone in the room to show that John belonged to Sherlock and the matter was not debatable.

Oh…OH! Greg thought, mentally slapping himself. Of course they are together. Blast it, what the hell am I doing here? He ran his hand through his greying hair and turned to leave, irritated with himself that he even agreed to come around in the first place.

"I was about to retire for the night. Long day at the office and an early morning tomorrow." John quickly passed Greg, skirting far around him to get to the bedroom. "Goodnight!" He called from the hallway and then slammed the door.

Greg pulled his hair in frustration and growled. "Sherlock, what am I doing here?" he hissed.

"Care for a drink?" Sherlock said materialising from in the kitchen and presenting the green tinted bottle to Greg. He couldn't say no to a beer, so he took the bottle and indulged in a long, gulping swig. Now that John had left the room, the tension was dissipating. It was either that or it was the beer on his empty stomach. Sherlock sat in his arm chair with one leg crossed over the other knee. His long, slender fingers were steepled under his chin while his sharp eyes watched Greg, who cautiously sat in the other chair with a wary eye on the consulting detective.

"Ok, what am I doing here Sherlock? I had plans tonight."

"No, you didn't," Sherlock stated simply.

"And if I did?"

"But you didn't." A mischievous gleam shone through in Sherlock's eyes.

"Seriously, Sherlock, what did you need? I'm right knackered and quite honestly, I don't really think that I'm welcome here." Greg tipped the last of the bottle back swallowing it down.

"I invited you here." Again, Sherlock looked to be up to something, like he could hardly contain himself.

"Sherlock," Greg bristled. He was about to get up and walk out if the other man didn't fess up to what he needed his help with. "I'm not going to ask again." He waited.

"It's about John." Sherlock dropped his hands away from his face into his lap and he looked away from Greg to the hallway. When he turned to look back at Greg and saw the incredulous look on his face, he scoffed a bit. "What? You and John aren't fighting any longer; you haven't seen each other in a month."

"Yeah and did you ever think that we haven't seen each other in a month because he doesn't want to see me. I don't think it's appropriate to be giving you advice about John. I'll be off then, ta."

Sherlock stood quickly to intercept him. "Please."

In the end, Greg didn't know if he agreed to stay because this was the only time Sherlock had begged him for anything or if he desperately wanted to make John happy again. He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "What about John?" He pinched the bridge of his nose as if he felt a massive headache coming on.

"We had an argument." Sherlock almost looked embarrassed to say it.


"He said that I do not love him enough; that I'm not sweet or gentle enough."

Greg could see where John got that from. Everything with Sherlock was cold, collected and calculated. The man never really let go. He knew more than anyone that John liked his love equally rough and gentle. If Sherlock couldn't provide the gentleness John needed, then the dynamic would be skewed.

"So what do you want me to do about that?"

"Lestrade, this relationship thing, it's not my area of expertise. And while I don't agree with why you left John, I can say that he was very happy when you were together."

Greg winced at Sherlock's words. He knew it was true. He was the happiest he can remember when he was with John and he can't fully explain why he felt the sudden urge to break it off with him. He groaned, putting his face in both his hands. "So you're just going to make me talk about what I did to make him happy? Looks like I right botched that one up Sherlock."


Greg looked up to meet Sherlock's eyes, surprised at his response. "What do you mean no?" The consulting detective gripped his forearm and dragged him into the hall just outside his bedroom. "What are you on about, Sherlock?" He was speaking in hushed tones, aware that John was asleep on the other side of that door.

Sherlock's grip tightened on his forearm when he finally came out with it. "I was going to ask you to show me." The greenish-grey eyes that bore into his own were desperate. He thought for a second that he would break down but he bit his lip and simply nodded, suddenly dying to be near John.

The other tipped his head in thanks before turning to open the door. "You know he sleeps like a rock, so he'll never know." Greg nodded. He also sleeps naked. He felt weird and slightly perverted to be sneaking into John's room, led by Sherlock who needed to learn how to treat John right, while John was fast asleep. It was all a little bit absurd but he went along anyway and allowed himself to be led in.

It was dark in the room but he could make out John's sleeping form on the bed by the street light coming from the window. He was on his back, one arm up above his head with the sheet wrapped around his hips as if he'd been rolling about. Greg could tell that he was already deeply sleeping from his slow, even breathing. He must have had a really tough day at the surgery. He had already lost himself in John, watching his smooth chest rise and fall in the pale yellow light. Sherlock, in the meantime, had shed all of his clothing and paused to stand next to Greg to admire the view.

"He's perfect." The deep voice made Greg start; he almost forgot where he was while wishing that John was in his bed instead of Sherlock's. He turned to the source of the voice and embarrassingly squeaked away from the other man upon seeing he was completely naked. He figured that he should have expected this considering why he was even in the room. It was just slightly alarming that he found that he liked it.

"What the bloody hell is this?" He whispered harshly, suspicious now, but he couldn't make himself look away from the consulting detective. He was tall and thin, all arms and legs, with skin like ivory stretched over lean muscle. Skin Greg wanted to touch. No, you can't. His gaze slowly roamed upwards until he met Sherlock's face, black curls hiding his eyes. The smirk on Sherlock's a face gave away the fact he had already deduced that Greg wanted him, and he like that idea.

Sherlock said nothing and climbed into bed alongside John, careful not to disturb him although the two of them both knew that John slept so heavily sometimes that it often took a foghorn to wake him. Greg removed his coat and hung it on the back of the door but was unwilling to take off anymore clothing despite the rising temperature in the room. Grumbling, he made his way over to the side of bed on the opposite side of John than Sherlock to kneel on the floor.

He was aware of Sherlock speaking but couldn't comprehend the words. Looking at John now, peaceful and incredibly beautiful, he couldn't understand why he had left. He had been so stupid. All he wanted to do now that he was here was to touch him the way he used to and make up for all the pain he'd caused.

"Lestrade." The raspy whisper brought him back from daydreaming. His brown eyes met steely blue ones and Greg held his breath.

"Holmes." He replied, mocking Sherlock's tone.

Greg didn't miss the exaggerated eye roll, "Call me Sherlock."

"Then call me Greg."

"Fine," the tone in Sherlock's voice was equivalent to that of a child and the question that followed sounded an awful lot like a child asking an adult to open a packaged toy for them on Christmas. "Greg, will you please show me?"

"Show you…?" Greg could surmise what the other man was requesting but he wanted to hear it again.

"How John likes to be touched. I clearly don't know what he needs and you obviously do."

Greg cleared throat and frantically tried to think of a plan. If he were to touch John's skin at all, he knew that he would lose control and want to simply devour him. He was starved.

"Yeah, I'll do it."

"I figured that you would."

"Give it a rest, Sherlock and lend us your hand." He reached his hand across John's torso for Sherlock to place his in. When the long fingers touched his, they were surprisingly warm and his mind wandered a moment to what it might feel like if Sherlock were to touch him. He was blushing at the thought and was ever thankful for the cover of darkness. A glance at the other man revealed that he was smiling, but neither of them said anything.

Greg placed his palm to the back of Sherlock's hand to guide it along as if he were touching John himself. Sherlock shimmied closer to John now and thus, closer to Greg, who could feel his warm breath on his face. Again, he appreciated the dark room.

"When he is sleepy, he really likes soft touches. It has to feather light, like a tickle, barely there." Greg brought their hands close to John's arm to demonstrate. Sherlock's hand was pliant under his and he was observant, as always. "Once you touch him, slowly trace the length of his arm to his wrist." He orchestrated the movement of their hands as he narrated. "I…" Greg paused not wanting to say it out loud.

"Go on." Sherlock was watching him closely, eyes burning with what Greg thought to be desire.

"I used to kiss and suck at his wrist, but you don't have to." He was embarrassed to admit it and he stumbled over all his words. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation and watched in awe as Sherlock reached to press a soft kiss to the wrist above John's head, his eyes never once leaving Greg's, tongue drawing tiny circles on the thin skin there.

The Detective Inspector couldn't think of a time he was more aroused. Sherlock appeared to ooze sex appeal, showing off his half hard cock while lying there, but he claimed to not know how to conduct himself tenderly in bed. Guiding Sherlock's fingertips back down the length of John's arm, he asked the question that had been gnawing at his mind all night. "Have you two… you know… slept together?" There was no way to say it without being indelicate.

"Once, but it was far too messy and more miscalculated than I expected. I really don't know what I am doing," Greg chuckled. He'd never hear Sherlock admit that he was incapable of something ever again.

"I got you. You are doing brilliant." He felt himself relaxing just a little and he continued moving their hands. "I like to… erm… I liked to trace his ribs. Drag your fingers across each one, and enjoy how they move as he breathes, yeah?" As their fingers moved across John's chest, they grazed a dusky pink nipple eliciting a deep sigh from the sleeping man.

Sherlock's hand stopped under Greg's and they both watched John's face for signs of waking. After a moment, they decided that he was still sleeping deeply, Greg spoke, smiling fondly when he continued. "He loves it when you touch his collarbones and up his neck to his ears." They traced around the shell of John's ear lobe and a tuft of blonde hair brushed Greg's knuckles. He stopped and sucked in a quick breathe at the contact and he held it. This was the first contact he had actually had with John Watson since he walked out.

I love touching John's hair; so soft and it always smells lovely. Sherlock noticed the inspector's reaction and was watching him closely. He lifted their hands away from the doctor and laced their fingers together, gaining Greg's attention.

"You miss him."

Of course he would be able to deduce that. "Yes. More than I ever imagined I would." He sighed and closed his eyes. Sherlock lowered their hands to rest on John's abdomen and gently rubbed his thumb across Greg's knuckles, mimicking the soft touches the man was instructing him to do just a minute ago.

"You hurt him." Sherlock's tone contradicted his gentle touch and Greg couldn't tear his eyes away from the long, soft fingers rubbing gentle circles on his hand.

"Yes. I know." It was mesmerising how quiet and intimate Sherlock was being. He is up to something.

"You will not hurt him again."

Tears threatened to fall from the inspector's eyes but he quickly shut them tight to stem their fall. "Never again." I'll never have the chance to.

"Gregory?" John's voice caused the two of them to fly apart and Greg stood up as fast as he could, nearly falling over backwards.

"I was just leaving." He nodded curtly to Sherlock and turned to go. Before he even took his first step, John grabbed his wrist and he was sure that sparks would fly from where they touched. Greg gave a shaky exhale and turned back to the bed.

John was now sitting up with Sherlock on his other side, a possessive hand on John's other arm. It wasn't a rough touch but not unlike the caresses like he had been showing him. It was still meant to say that John was his now.

"I'm sorry, John. I should have never come by." Greg couldn't even look at John; it was like looking at the sun. His eyes watered when he tried. That's when he felt the grip on his wrist tighten.

"Kiss me, Greg." The request was more reminiscent of a young woman in an old film being swept off her feet by a suave young man rather than an order. Either way, the request made him uncomfortable and his eyes flicked to Sherlock for guidance. All he received was a slight nod and he figured he was already falling, why not make the plunge?

He leaned down, taking John's face in both his hands and pressed a warm, wet, and needy kiss to his lips. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Greg rested his forehead against John's and sighed.

"I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness, that wouldn't be fair to you. I just want you to know that I regret everyone moment I've spent away from you." They kissed again; this time John parted his lips to allow Greg free rein of the exchange. The blonde's arms wrapped around his neck as the kiss deepened and he seemed to relax back into the mattress, pulling Greg down on top of him. The kiss grew more and more wet and heated and he couldn't stop himself thinking that this was all a dream and he was going to wake up alone in his dingy little flat fighting a horrible hangover in the morning.

The inspector nearly jolted out of his skin when he felt a warm hand run up his back underneath his shirt. He pulled away from John's delicious lips to look at Sherlock lying next to them. Shite, I forgot that he was even here. Sherlock cocked a questioning eyebrow his way, still rubbing his back, completely ignoring that Greg might be slightly uncomfortable with being touched by him. All it took was a slender finger dipping into the waistband of his pants and John pulling his face back around for another snog session for him to decide. He didn't care who was touching him, as long as he got to have his John back. He really couldn't even deny that he was enjoying Sherlock's caresses.

Moaning into his ex-lover's mouth, John pressed his hips upward grinding his now raging erection against his hips. Greg sucked John's bottom lip into his mouth and gave it a gentle nip before letting it go. Heavy breaths permeated the air and for a moment no one moved. Both Sherlock and Greg were looking to John. It was his call as to where this went from there. His blue eyes nervously flicked back and forth between the two men, both he loved very much. The unvoiced question hung in the air like smoke.

"Yes," His whisper set things in motion. Greg again devoured John's mouth while his shirt was being hastily removed by an impatient Sherlock. When it was completely off, he reluctantly separated from the kiss to stand and kick off his trousers and pants. Two pairs of eyes watched him from the bed.

"John?" Sherlock rumbled deeply running a hand up the inside of John's soft white thigh. The sound of his voice sent delicious shivers up the inspector's spine, the coil of arousal settling in his belly.

"Yes, Sherlock?" John answered in his own dark tone. He rocked his hips forward at the touch, his cock desperate for attention after the light touches and heavy kissing.

"I think I'd like to have him." Sherlock turns his face to look at John, who grunted his approval. From Greg's perspective, it looked like they were having a conversation telepathically, eyes locked and searching. He groaned at the thought of Sherlock taking him. It was all too much to handle and his cock twitched visibly at the scene playing in his head. They were kissing now and he didn't want them to forget he was here, which was silly because they were just talking about him, but he climbed back in the bed anyway settling in on his side next to John. The two looked startled like they actually did forget about him, but the look was quickly covered by raw lust. They looked like hungry lions stalking a baby antelope.

Sherlock's hand extended from its place on John's thigh to Greg's hip to rub small random patterns with his thumb. Though, it was Sherlock so it probably wasn't random at all; it was probably the numbers of Pi or something. Greg smiled and leaned into John and they began kissing again, quieter this time. Slow and steady, they licked and sucked each other and took their time to enjoy it. After all, they were together for months; they ought to know what the other likes. Once again, they fell into the old habit of John submitting to Greg and Greg eagerly playing with John's tongue, drawing it into his mouth.

Sherlock wasn't feeling left out one bit as he watched them make out. Seeing the two men in front of him lovingly lap at each other's mouth and hold the other so tenderly only compelled him to touch them both. His hand wandered down to Greg's sizable cock, first touching it with just his fingertips, just barely ghosting over the hot, velvety flesh there. The detective inspector grinned against John's wet lips, anticipating heavier petting from Sherlock, who seemed to have read his mind. He pulled the skin back in one firm stroke to reveal the hot, red and leaking head and it wasn't too long before he gripped the whole of Greg in his hand, working him gently and evenly, causing the man to buck in his hands and moan desperately into John's mouth. However, Sherlock didn't linger too long on Greg and instead shifted to lie between John's legs on his stomach. John's smaller hand moved in to take Greg's length and continued to work him in Sherlock's absence.

Nudging the blonde's legs apart with his shoulders, he licked his lips in anticipation. He wanted to taste John, tease John, and more importantly he wanted to ready him to be fucked into oblivion by Greg. Each time he thought of the two together, his own growing erection trapped under him pulsed with pleasure against the soft sheets. Sherlock spread John open even more, legs sprawled across the bed and over Greg's legs. With one last glance up at Greg working on a love bite on John's neck, he bent his head to lick the sensitive skin of John's puckered anus.

"Fuckin' Christ!" John exclaimed pulling away from Greg to look down at the shaggy black curls. The detective inspector thought he might come at the vulgar sight of Sherlock licking John, so he slapped away the hand pumping his cock, not want it to end too soon.

The tongue lapped lazily at John, being sure to make the area positively slick and dripping wet. As he went on, Sherlock got bolder, pushing the tip of his tongue in. John was a writhing mess and trying to spread his legs wider, craving a better angle. Grinning, Greg licked wet trails down John's neck to a nipple, taking it in his mouth to suck gently. It felt so good to taste his skin again and he reveled in how the body under him arched, begging to be touched, kissed and licked. He made his way down, dragging a flat, hot tongue across John's navel and continued further by placing small kisses along the angle of his hip and ended with his lips at the base of John's rock hard member.

This is when he saw the bead of pre-cum dripping from the tip of John's penis. This is gold, he thought while greedily licking it off his length, dipping his tongue into the sensitive slit on the end.

"John, you taste amazing; absolutely lush. Sweet as ever and you look so damn hot lying there with Sherlock eating your tight little arse." Their eyes met, and John watched in a daze as Greg took him into his mouth entirely and slowly he pulled him out again, pumping him with a skilled hand using his own saliva as lubricant.

"Mmmmm... he does taste good doesn't he?" Sherlock had replaced his tongue with a finger, slowly thrusting it in and out of John's hot body. Greg's face was extremely close to his, centimetres away, and the urge to kiss him was too strong to deny, so he gave in to urge and closed the gap with his lips against Greg's. The kiss was slow and languid, lazy even; each of them tasting a little bit of John on the other and enjoying it. Greg dragged his tongue along the roof of Sherlock's mouth and was extremely proud of the shudder and feral growl he got in response. He tastes like John and himself… god this is fuckin' amazing.

"Oh god, you two are killing me." John's breath was ragged and desperate. "So sexy. One of you, please, fuck me now!" He let his head drop back on the pillow in frustration.

Sherlock smirked against Greg's lips and ignored the doctor's plea for help. He added a second slick finger into John and curled them up to brush his prostate.

"Ahhhh-ha-ha!" John's moaning was mixed with a sort of hysterical laughter. "Fuck you, Sherlock. Greg, fuck me please!" The two men in his lap simply ignored him and continued ravaging each other's mouths with tongue and teeth. It was unclear who was being dominant, but both men were more than happy to share the role between the two. Greg was still pumping John's cock but only just so and the friction and pressure were not enough to satisfy him. Sherlock added a third finger, twisting and scissoring to stretch his anus wide open. It wasn't enough, it never was.

John wanted more. He slowly reached down to run his fingers through the greying hair of his ex-lover. At first his touch was gentle and almost soothing, something more characteristic of after-sex cuddling. He carded through the soft locks and earned a rumbling purr from Greg. It seemed a sweet gesture until John yanked on the man's head harshly to look at him. Sherlock pulled his fingers out John, completely surprised and incredibly aroused by the forwardness and authority John was displaying.

"Fuck. Me. Now. Doctor's orders."

"I bloody missed you, John Watson." The words were strained with emotion and he wanted nothing more than to pound into that sweet body again. There was no doubting and no second guessing this time. He wanted him.

Sherlock shifted, so Greg could lie in between John's legs and moved to lie beside John to kiss him ravenously, as if he would never get to do it again. He held a leg up and out of the way allowing the detective inspector better access to John's well prepared ass, soft slender fingers rubbing the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.

Without any further distractions, Greg eased his thick hard length into John's willing body all in one go. He knew that John could take him, after all Sherlock did a top job of stretching the doctor. Even so, John liked it hard and rough and it had been too long for either of them. He groaned loudly watching Sherlock hungrily swallow the moans from John's mouth. Slowly, he pulled back his hips and snapped them forward, sure to hit John's prostate. The clenching, pulsing tightness drove him to fuck John as hard and fast as he could; they would have time for slow, quiet love-making later, but at the moment, his desperation needed an outlet.

Sherlock pulled away to release the moans and incoherent mumbling out into the room, but Greg quickly swept in to take over, loving the vibration of the sounds on his lips. Sherlock knelt behind the two of them enjoying the sight of Greg disappearing into John. It was beautiful; slick and wet. He touched where they were joined, running his fingers around the stretched skin and occasionally gripping Greg's length as he slid out. He was proud of his preparation as John didn't seem to be in any pain at all.

Sherlock thought of his next plan and was grinning like the Cheshire cat while his hand cradled Greg's testicles. He squeezed them gently and rolled him in his hand causing the man to jerk forward erratically, depth, speed and force unpredicatable and varying greatly, filling the room with grunts from both men. Stroking himself and humming his approval, Sherlock moved to gently press the pad of his thumb into Greg's perineum.

"Fuckin' hell, Sherlock! You tryin' to off me here?"

"I did say that I wanted to have you." Sherlock's deep voice seemed even deeper when saturated with want and lust. Grinning widely, he placed a wet kiss to the base of Greg's spine, causing the man to shiver and gasp.

The gasp turned into a growl and Greg buried his face into John's neck to bite at the racing pulse rushing under the skin there. His lover was lying pliant underneath him simply taking all of Greg and enjoying it greatly. His pupils were blown wide in pleasure and his cock leaking generous amounts of pre-cum on to his stomach.

Warm, wet fingers began to massage at Greg's waiting, virgin hole making the inspector to freeze. He lifted his face from the love bite on John's neck he was gently sucking and locked eyes with Sherlock, worry crossing his features.

His consulting detective leaned in and kissed his lips lightly. "What's the matter, love?" The fingers at his ass didn't stop but continued to rub with a slight pressure that left Greg's hair standing on end.

"I- I've only ever topped." He quietly breathed out in huff, feeling slightly embarrassed.

The pressure of Sherlock's fingers increased slightly but they didn't enter him. "I'll take good care of you, Detective Inspector." Sherlock's voice was like smooth velvety chocolate, and hearing his proper title spoken in the bedroom made Greg hum with pleasure.

John, seemingly coming back to himself now that the incessant pounding had stilled a moment, pulled Greg's face around, kissing the corners of his mouth softly. "He will. He's insanely good at this. Should be illegal really. And he loves doing it." John wiggled his hips as a reminder of Sherlock's previous work and the movement caused him to tighten around Greg, who nodded, trusting them entirely.

Greg's hips began to move again, thrusting slowly, John's tight heat hugging him close and his hot mouth kissing his face and neck. Sherlock's hand followed the movement of his hips and after a wet lick to lubricate, he pushed a finger into Greg up to the first knuckle. All movement ceased again at the slight intrusion. It felt odd more than anything; alien to him. He tried to relax to allow for better entry but Sherlock didn't try to push in any further. He simply removed the finger and replaced it multiple times twisting as he continued to lick Greg's sensitive flesh. John was whining beneath him, begging him to fuck him, so he remembered himself and began moving his hips again.

He felt more and more comfortable with Sherlock's finger and set a slow and steady pace turning John into a moaning hot mess. Greg was quite relaxed fucking John into the mattress again, and the finger inside him was beginning to feel pleasant. He found himself wanting it to be deeper in him. A few times he tried to impale himself on Sherlock's digit and was denied making him whimper pathetically.

"Please, Sherlock. I want more." Greg begged while nipping at John's neck. He could practically hear Sherlock's grin as he complied and eased his finger in all the way.

"Aahhh, yes!" Greg bucked harshly into John. Poor John was already so close to his peak that the hard thrusting sent him over the edge and he came hard with a desperate sobbing cry, spilling his seed all over his stomach in between them. He was groaning as each spurt of cum wracked his body violently.

The chain of events fell into place like dominos triggered by John's orgasm, which led to his ass clenching down on Greg, squeezing him with incredible force, which in turn made Greg moan loudly, his ass sucking Sherlock in further. John lay panting with an arm laid over his face, still coming down from his hormonal high.

"Mmmm… That was brilliant, Greg." A happy, content smile ruled his features and he sleepily looked up at his lover whose expression was one of pure lust. Grinning at the look and realising the other two still needed to get off, John began stroking Greg's chest and cooing dirty talk into his ear. "You can use my body, Greg. Just fuck me until you cum. I'm all yours. I want you to use my ass as Sherlock fucks you from behind." John was tired and spent but he wanted to see Greg and Sherlock come undone, so he opened his legs a bit wider earning himself a dashing smile from Sherlock and wanton moan from Greg.

Sherlock removed his finger from Greg and swiped it across John's stomach collecting some of the cum there. Using it as lubricant, he slowly pushed three fingers back into Greg's ass, slick and slippery. The man cried out, again jerking forward into John, who was responded with a lazy moan, still hypersensitive after his orgasm. Three fingers at once was a large leap to make, but Greg took it well bring as relaxed as he was. The pain was slight and it faded quickly, blending with pleasure.

"Gah! That's so fuckin' hot. Blimey, I want more, Sherlock, please" He exclaimed and arched his back, begging to be penetrated deeper. "Sherlock…." He whined making Sherlock chuckle and not give in to the demands as sexy as they were, knowing what was best for Greg. Instead, he set a slow, even pace, scissoring his fingers and hitting Greg's prostate with every stroke.

"Damn it, Lestrade. You look so tight." While watching his fingers being sucked into Greg's ass, Sherlock was giving his own cock the desperate attention it deserved with one hand while working the detective inspector open with his other.

Somewhere far in the back of his mind, Greg wanted to correct Sherlock and tell him to call him by his first name but the sound of the other man's voice rumbling his surname in that very special "Sherlockian" way made him even more turned on; if that was even possible. He moaned his agreement. He probably was very tight since he'd never been taken this way before. Greg's anxiety about being penetrated began to build in his stomach and at the same time he desperately wanted to know what it was like. Now.

"Bugger me, Sherlock. Do it now!" Greg thrust forward into John's limp body desperate for any sexual friction. At this demand, the fingers pulled out of him with a slick sound and he felt Sherlock shift behind him, adjusting himself and lining up with Greg's stretched hole.

Sherlock's thin hands were all over his back, tracing patterns, strong hands kneading his bum while pressing forward just a bit causing his breath to catch. John's hands were on him too, different than the others, but they moved with the same purpose; distraction. As spent as the poor man under him looked, his eyes were still ablaze with desire just knowing that his roommate, now boyfriend, was about to fuck his ex. John thumbed Greg's hard, pink nipples and half sat up on his elbows to kiss his neck and chest.

Sherlock eased his way in when he felt Greg relax into John's arms. He groaned openly at the ridiculous tightness that was consuming his cock. The tight rings of muscle pulsed around him, trying to close in on him.

When Greg gasped, John was right there to kiss him sweetly, muttering soft reassurances in between small pecks here and there. This feels so amazing… so right. Why haven't I done this be…

His thought was interrupted by a gentle thrust more fulfilling that any finger or multiple fingers Sherlock could have possibly used. John was enjoying the sight of Greg being fucked, his face screwed up in pleasure, mouth open wide and breathing heavily.

Sherlock gave a deep growl and leaned forward over Greg, pressing his lips to his back before taking some of the skin in his teeth and pulling away, extracting a loud howl from him. Despite the aggressive behavior, Sherlock was moving his hips ever so slightly, slipping smoothly in and out of his new found lover bit by bit. Greg was growing impatient and pushed back against Sherlock resulting in finally pulling out of John with a soft, wet pop. The doctor didn't let him rest one minute though; he scraped some of his own cum off of his messy belly and took Greg's heavy cock in hand. The man's whole body shivered and Sherlock groaned his appreciation as it resulted in Greg tightening around him. Sherlock finally caught John's gaze for the first time since the beginning of this whole thing. They were both grinning like school boys and the man between them was moaning softly each time Sherlock slid deep inside him.

"He won't be long now, Sherlock. Give him all you've got, I want to see you both cum." John was still pumping Greg, his hand moving faster and his touch becoming firmer.

"Yes." Was all Greg could manage weakly when Sherlock's hips began to move faster, fucking him harder. His brain felt scrambled and it was a puzzle to him how he could even deal with this at the moment. Luckily, John pulled him close snogging him like crazy and whispering in his ear.

"I told you that Sherlock would take care of you. Doesn't he feel so good inside you, filling you up completely?" Over Greg's shoulder, John could see Sherlock getting close to his release. His jaw was slack, eyes shut and fingers gripping Greg's hips as if his life depended on it. He tugged at Greg harder and faster and no sooner than five seconds later, the man was keening loudly, moaning obscenities and their names, mixed with indecipherable words. Hot cum spilled over John's hand and joined his own on his abdomen to leave him feeling somewhere in a mix between slutty and satisfied.

The muscles around Sherlock's length constricted and pulsed as Greg emptied himself onto John. It felt impossibly tight and he pounding into that sweet body veraciously trying to being himself over the edge. One look at John lying underneath Greg, completely covered in cum, looking tired, used and debauched, and his orgasm began to take him. Shaking breaths accompanied the spasms of his cock as he spurted hot cum deep into Greg, who was groaning with each fitful thrust and still arching his back, greedy for more.

After they lay still for a while, John was the first to move from their heap of limbs, untangling himself and squeezing out from underneath the other two to retrieve a towel to wipe himself and Greg. Sherlock had flopped down on his back, panting quietly and replaying in his mind what they had just done, cataloging it to memory. His hands were tangled up in the dark curls on his head and he had massive grin on his face. Greg had collapsed face down into the sheets with his arm and legs spread out in all directions. John caught Sherlock's grin and smirked back at him while settling back into the spot he was originally sleeping in before all of this beautiful craziness happened. Pulling the sheet over the three of them, John cuddled close to Greg's side earning him a soft kiss to his forehead before the Greg turned his head away to regard Sherlock suspiciously.

With a lazy finger he pointed at his consulting detective. "You, Sherlock, are a tricky little tart aren't you?" His tone was serious but the corners of his mouth turned upward, betraying his actual feelings on the matter.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." By looking Greg directly in the eye, he had hoped that the man would take him seriously and leave it at that, but he was also struggling not to smile.

"Don't try that with me! I'm a detective too, ya know, and as terrible as you think my team and I are, I observe. This time was first-hand experience." He winked at Sherlock and rolled to his side facing him. Rough, calloused fingertips moved lightly up the milky white skin of the arm lying closest to him. They grazed over the lean muscles of his shoulder and traced the fine collarbones those muscles attached, up to the slow and steady pulse on the side of his neck. "You didn't need my help to show you how to touch John, how to treat him in bed."

"Guilty," John kissed the back of his neck and pressed into him from behind draping an arm and leg over him. Sherlock was looking smug.

"You were in on it too?" Chuckling heartily, Greg gathered one of John's small hands up along with Sherlock's long, slender one, pressing them both to his lips. He kissed each of the knuckles in turn, whispering into the soft skin. "I'm so sorry." The three of them remained silent for a few minutes, while Greg clutched on to their hands, mumbling apologies. Sherlock felt that it wasn't his place to say a word about the previous relationship of the other two so he relaxed; closing his eyes, he waited for someone to speak.

John finally cleared his throat, "When you left me, I was right confused. You hurt me." Greg closed his eyes tightly, listening intently. It hurt to hear John talk about it because it was still felt so fresh but he understood that to move on, it must be said. "I felt vulnerable and disoriented. To be honest, I felt a bit used. I thought that we had something there." Emotion was straining John's vocal cords but a squeeze from Sherlock's hand on his urged him to continue. "Of course, Sherlock, with the power of deduction, knew that things weren't right." John waved his hand in the air arbitrarily, flourishing the word "deduction". "He comforted me and it seemed right."

Greg felt John shift uncomfortably behind him and when he didn't continue, he opened his eyes. Sherlock was watching him, eyes burning into his own, which he found disconcerting at first but mildly comforting at the same time.

"But something was missing," Sherlock added, with a smile. "Someone."

"Mmm," John agreed wordlessly. With sleep threatening to take him, he mumbled against Greg's neck. "I need you both."

"As soon as I walked out, I knew that I would always need you, John. Was the biggest mistake of my life leavin' you. Hell, I've always needed Sherlock; wouldn't solve a damn case without him." He chuckled quietly.

"Well, that's sorted. You won't be leaving again." Sherlock was beginning to feel sleepy as well and he closed his eyes simply enjoying the warm body next to him.

"Thought I'd made a real hash of it the first time; I wouldn't dream of ever making that mistake again."

Both Sherlock and John grumbled at that statement and Greg fell asleep with the impression and the hopes that this was simply not a one off. He needed them too.

Thanks for reading! :D