Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4911535.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Sherlock_Holmes/John_Watson, Bilbo_Baggins/Smaug
  Character:
      Sherlock_Holmes, John_Watson, Smaug, Bilbo_Baggins
  Additional Tags:
      Romance, Friendship, Friends_to_Lovers, Vamplock, Werelock, Merlock,
      Unilock, Teenlock, Kidlock, Winglock, Smauglock, Alphalock, Omegalock,
      Parentlock, Femlock, balletlock, Alternate_Universe, Alternate_Canon,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Omega_Verse, Soulmate-Identifying
      Marks, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Smut, Humor, Halloween_Inspired, 31_days_of
      Johnlock, Octoberlock_Is_Here, I'll_Add_More_Tags_If_I_Can_Think_of_More,
      John's_Jumpers, John's_Red_Pants, Sexual_Content, Explicit_Sexual
      Content, Mild_Language, Homosexuality, Bisexuality, Asexuality, Asexual
      Sherlock, blowjob, Sexual_Tension, Topping_from_the_Bottom, Dominance,
      Rough_Sex, Omega_Sherlock, Kid_Sherlock, Possessive_Sherlock, kinky
      fuckery, I_mean_it, like_a_lot_of_fucking_sex_between_dragon/hobbit,
      Human_Smaug, sort_of, Smaug_Lives, i_went_there!, if_you_no_likey_no
      ready_K_bro?, Dream_Sex, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, these_tags_are_fucking
      crazy, Kinks, lost_and_lots_of_it, seriously_lets_not_hate_on_somebody's
      kinks, just_cuz_U_don't_get_it_doesn't_mean_some_1_else_doesn't, let's
      respect_the_people_who_enjoy_their_kinkage, I_have_written_centaur_sex,
      but_here_we_are, the_fruits_of_my_labors_-_if_you_know_what_I_mean_-_are
      before_you_now, no_likey_no_ready_K_bro?, Bestiality, sort, OF, only_for
      those_annoying_sticklers_who_will_no_doubt_be_offended_by_this, possibly,
      I_don't_really_fucking_know_anymore, Halloween_has_fucked_me_over
      mentally, this_tagging_shit_is_hard, not_as_hard_as_John_but_still, sorry
      mom, Sorry_Not_Sorry
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-01 Completed: 2015-10-31 Chapters: 31/31 Words: 30898
****** OctoberLock ******
by Watermelonsmellinfellon
Summary
     Hallowe'en made me want to write a bunch of AU Johnlock fics. One for
     every day of the month. So... here it is! A bunch of fluff and sex.
Notes
     There will be fluff.
     There will be sex.
     It depends on the chapter.
     You've been warned.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Vamplock Pt.1 *****
A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!
I_don't_own_Sherlock.
I_have_no_beta.
ENJOY!
     CHECK_ME_OUT_ON_TUMBLR._HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON._I_FOLLOW_BACK.
===============================================================================
When John learned of Sherlock's secret, he really wasn't all that shocked.
Sherlock was incredibly attractive and talked like he was from a different time
altogether. So when he walked in the kitchen door of the flat, too see Sherlock
drinking from a bag of A+ blood, he wasn't as worried as he should have been.
In fact, Sherlock was the one to lose his mind over it.
The one time he ever tried to hide something from John.
Of course his mouth was covered in blood and John could clearly see the pointed
canines protruding a little over his bottom lip.
"Sherlock!" John said in an authoritative tone, calling his friend's attention.
Sherlock stared at him in horror.
"I don't mind."
Sherlock's bloodied mouth fell open then. He was looking at John in slight
horror and interest. "You're not… leaving to tell?"
"No. But is this going to be regular? And where do you even get that? Please
tell me you don't steal it from Bart's?"
"Okay, I won't tell you."
John's head met the cold wood of the kitchen door. "Of course."
"Mycroft actually provides it and I don't care where it comes from, so long as
it's A+ and warm," Sherlock mumbled after a moment, bashfully staring at the
table.
At least he wasn't convincing Molly to steal other stuff for him. That was okay
then.
"Alright, so… do you actually need to eat normal food or do I just get Chinese
for myself from now on?"
Sherlock was giving him the 'use your brain' look. "John, I'm not dead. No
vampire is dead, that's a myth. I'm also fine in sunlight if you've noticed. Of
course my age and power are part of the reason why the sun doesn't affect me,
but still. I'm alive, with a beating heart. I can eat anything so long as I
have two pints of A+ every two weeks."
"But you choose not to eat anyway?"
"Because I can go days without needing to eat."
"You are a pain in my arse, you sod!"
The two stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at each other until both
broke down into loud giggles.
Things went back to normal, though John was much more understanding now that he
knew of Sherlock's kind and that Sherlock didn't actually need to eat every
day. Sherlock enjoyed the fact that he didn't have to worry about John's
mothering or worrying now that he knew about Sherlock's secret.
Life went on. Nothing changed.
===============================================================================
Things actually changed a bit. Sherlock no longer felt the need to hide his
fangs, so they tipped over the edge of his lower lip just a bit and gave him a
small lisp when he spoke. It was cute how Sherlock got all huffy over it.
And Sherlock's speed was more advanced than John had previously assumed. When
John had asked for Sherlock to simply take out the rubbish, he'd been staring
at the bin for a minute, trying to work out how there had been a bag full of
rubbish and how a second later, there was a new bag and the bin was clean.
Sherlock basically stated that he could move faster than the human eye could
see.
"Can all vampires do that?"
"No," Sherlock snorted. "Mycroft is rather slow, but he's fat so it's
understandable."
"He's not fat."
"He consumes far too much cake to not be."
"You're impossible!"
"I know."
Another instance that John learned of some of Sherlock's other skills, was when
Sherlock stated that they had two clients, but no one had entered the building.
Two minutes later, a betrothed couple was sitting on their proffered chairs.
Sherlock had good hearing.
John decided that he would not be keeping dates over anymore. If Sherlock had
heard anything in the past, he'd never live it down knowing that his friend was
hearing what was going on if he brought over girlfriends in the future.
Other than better senses and partial immortality - 'We age 31.27 times slower
than humans do, John' - Sherlock's intelligence was vastly improved by his
vampirism.
Mycroft was born a vampire. Sherlock was born a human with the ability to turn
into a vampire. Both real siblings. Both from the same two parents. But some
were born differently in vampire families and when Sherlock decided, he was
changed. His already high intellect, was advanced aggressively do to the change
because vampires could take in information faster than humans could. And they
could also work out problems faster as well.
Sherlock's grand age of two hundred and three years allowed him some aid.
Mycroft was naturally resistant to the sun, Sherlock had to wait a few decades
after his change before tolerating it.
John was fascinated.
Sherlock loved talking to John and John loved it when Sherlock talked. And
since his friend was no longer pretending to be human, his voice was a bit
more… silky. Velvet like. Sexy.
Sherlock claimed that it was simply something to attract prey and nothing
important but John had to disagree. Sherlock had always been amazing in John's
eyes, but now that he was 'free' in a sense, everything was enhanced. Looks,
voice, intelligence. The deductions came even faster these days.
John was faced with the reality that he found Sherlock more than amazing and he
could no longer hide it.
'That's fantastic!' soon became 'You're fantastic!'.
John smiled a lot more now.
And Sherlock seemed to just let go, able to be himself around John without
worrying as John promised that he wasn't leaving.
And then it happened one day in October. John had carried the groceries in and
one moment he was holding bags and the next, they were gone - nowhere to be
seen - and Sherlock was looming over him while he stood in the doorway of the
kitchen.
"You're attracted to me," the consulting detective murmured, his heated breath
puffing against John's forehead.
John cleared his throat, "Yes, I am." Forthright was the best way to go with
Sherlock.
"And it's not just because I'm a vampire, you were always attracted but you
can't deny yourself anymore."
John held eye contact because he was not a coward and he most certainly would
not back down. "Yes, obviously." He loved using Sherlock's own words against
him.
"Well," Sherlock drawled, "what are you waiting for?"
John pounced.
                                TBC_in_PART_2!
===============================================================================
A/N:_First_is_done!
How_was_it?_Let_me_know.
Check_out_my_other_Johnlock_fics.
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***** Werelock *****
Chapter Summary
     Were-wolf Sherlock is trying to persuade Were-lion John into the sex
     he so desires.
Chapter Notes
     Sexiness.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!
I_don't_own_Sherlock.
I_have_no_beta.
ENJOY!
     CHECK_ME_OUT_ON_TUMBLR._HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON._I_FOLLOW_BACK.
===============================================================================
"I happen to be a very gentle lover."
John sighed because Sherlock would not let the situation drop. John did not
care that his Were-wolf friend was a good lay, he just wanted to eat his mash
and drink his scalding tea.
"I don't know what you find so offensive. You like sex. Though as a Were-lion
I'm not so shocked. Everyone knows how Were-lions are always gagging for it.
And I'm simply saying that you like sex and I like sex. You need it rather
often and I am considerate when between the sheets, despite the reputation
others of my nature have garnered."
John's jaw dropped. "I do not-"
"Yes you do!" interrupted Sherlock. "All the time. You even masturbate between
three and five times a day. You need sex like you need air."
"What if I don't want to have sex with you?" John demanded, folding his arms
stubbornly.
"That's a lie and we both know it. Besides, you love my tail and you long to
run your fingers through the fur."
"Sherlock, please just stop opening your mouth. This is… not good."
Sherlock's blue eyes gleamed, "On the contrary, I think it's very good John.
You want me to bend you over this table and fuck you stupid."
John's mouth went dry, but he managed to say, "You don't like stupidity."
"Only if I'm not the one who put it there," Sherlock smirked.
They stared each other down for a moment, before both scrambled from their
chairs, running down the hall. Sherlock grabbed the back of John's trousers
when they passed the doorway and used his deceptive strength to toss the Were-
lion onto the bed.
John landed and rolled, hissing in affront.
Sherlock approached the bed, ignoring the warnings given by his quarry. This
was it. The mating ritual would commence and once Sherlock proved himself, he'd
mount and take his John. Take him for hours and hours. Make John beg to be
touched by him and only him.
When he was near enough, John made to swipe at him, but Sherlock easily
intercepted the attacked and redirected the arm elsewhere. He was about to grab
John's neck, when the Were-lion heaved and Sherlock found himself pinned to the
mattress, his blond doctor straddling his hips and smirking down at him.
That would not do.
His hips undulated carefully and the moment John gasped, Sherlock bushed
upward, bringing his legs all the way up and flipping. He landed, lying between
John's spread thighs. Thank God the bed was so large otherwise they'd be having
sex on the floor.
Without hesitating, Sherlock pulled the collars of John's jumper and shirt
aside and bit down on the soft skin between John's throat and shoulder. The
unscarred side of course. He wasn't that far gone or brutal.
John's body stiffened for a moment, before going lax. Even though he did not
have the vocal cords for it, Sherlock released what sounded very much like a
purr. He liked the fact that John had given in so easily, because he did not
want to spend the next half hour or however long it could possibly take,
chasing John about the flat in order to assert his dominance. John's easy
submission, must mean that he was really sexually frustrated. Sherlock could
work with this.
Having not a care in the world as to what happened to John's hideous jumper,
Sherlock's claws dug into the fabric at the nape of John's neck, and pulled.
The oatmeal colored piece of cloth, shredded immediately. It was a pleasing
sight and he enjoyed the glare that John sent his way for it. John had really
liked that jumper, but Sherlock didn't. And if John was so insistent upon
wearing hideous jumpers, he could at least let Sherlock purchase him better
quality ones.
Sherlock did not tan and when he was younger he used to bemoan that fact on a
regular basis. But ever since meeting John, Sherlock had been able to at least
visually indulged in his interests in tanned flesh. No matter what, it seemed
that John was able to tan from any sort of exposure to the sun. In the three
years of their acquaintance/friendship John had only darkened further and had
not lost his lovely tan.
So all of that wonderfully developed muscle covered by the wonderfully tanned
skin, aroused him. And the line of very soft blonde hair, trailing down John's
navel and under his trousers, was basically a tease. Sherlock fingered it for a
second, interested in seeing exactly what it led to.
Despite the fact that he knew nothing about personal space, Sherlock had never
ever seen John naked. John had seen him naked because Sherlock was not worried
about his appearance at all. He didn't really have a reason to give be, but
Sherlock had not had the privilege of witnessing John Hamish Watson without his
clothing on. It was nice to finally satiate his curiosity.
John's hands tugged insistently upon Sherlock's dressing gown. It was removed
quickly. Sherlock's undershirt, followed soon after. Now they were on even
footing, half of their bodies prominently displayed for the other's feasting
eyes.
Smirking to himself, Sherlock leaned down, his mouth hovering tauntingly over
John's. John was not one to allow people to taunt him. It was something that
Sherlock greatly admired about him. And the fact that John had no qualms about
taking his own pleasure even though Sherlock was obviously going to be in the
dominating position, made it all the hotter. They should have been doing this
the entire time. They could have been enjoying each other before this. Sherlock
was prepared to make up for lost time.
With impatience, Sherlock got to his knees and proceeded to rip the trousers
directly down the center of the zipper and right there, right there that just
simply seemed to exist for the sole reason of tormenting him, was a pair of
extremely blood red, pants. These were new. Sherlock had gone through John's
clothing before and he had never seen these before. He liked them. And he also
liked the very large bulge that was beneath them. The bulge that was currently
growing all because of Sherlock. It was an empowering thought. Sherlock could
get used to this.
John's cock was outlined perfectly. The fact that his pants were straining
against the erection, so much so that the elastic near his thighs wasn't
actually touching his skin, make Sherlock's mouth water. After the first round,
he have to come back and visit this situation again. He was going to worship
John's cock very soon.
John made a noise, his hands tugging on the sides of Sherlock's trousers.
Sherlock complied, getting off the bed in order to strip himself bare, before
returning to his lover. Long, thin fingers, trailed lightly over the bulge in
John's pants. They looked over the top of the elastic and pulled down very
slowly, revealing the heated flesh that John had always been so modest about
covering, to his greedy gaze.
John's cock was much thicker than Sherlock's was. Sherlock's however, was about
an inch and a half longer. Also, Sherlock was pleased to note that John was 8
inches and 1 centimeter. He also had many veins covering the length of his
insistent erection. Sherlock thought the various green and blue ridges, were
spectacular. He was also impressed with the fact that John's cock was also
tanned. What had John been doing?
"Will you please get on with it, I'm dying here!"
Sherlock merely glanced up and sent his friend a smirk. "Shall I fuck you or
suck you?"
"You and your cock will be inside me in the next minute or else."
"I haven't even-"
"Or else," John finished threateningly.
Sherlock moved right on to what he was planning, removing the pants ever so
carefully so they could use them again. The lube was procured from under his
pillow - he always needed it readily accessible - and he covered himself and
John's entrance in the cool liquid.
"I don't need prepping!"
"It'll hurt-"
"It's supposed to, you twat!"
Well… that was new.
"So the you-"
"Sherlock."
"Right."
This was going to be slower next time, because Sherlock had wanted to explore
John's flesh first, but John wanted it now so he'd have to wait.
He spread the toned thighs, pushing on them until they rested against John's
stomach. He pushed in.
John's hiss would have worried him had he not seen those blue eyes dilate so
quickly. John got off on sexual pain. That was the most erotic realization
Sherlock had ever come to.
"Start fucking now. Or are your words from before just simple talk?" John
taunted.
Once a Were-lion, always a Were-lion.
Sherlock preceded.
John was drooling by the time he was finished and Sherlock felt proud that he'd
only bitten his lover three times.
"Why are you still insid-"
"Were-wolves form a knot, John."
"But it's not even-"
"So?"
John collapsed back into the bed. "You dick."
===============================================================================
A/N:_First_is_done!
How_was_it?_Let_me_know.
Check_out_my_other_Johnlock_fics.
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Merlock *****
Chapter Summary
     MERMAN/HUMAN SMUT!
Chapter Notes
     Sex.
     Kinky Sherlock.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
_A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!_
_I_don't_own_Sherlock._
_I_have_no_beta._
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===============================================================================
"Hello, Captain."
John shivered as the beautiful merman coiled around him. He knew he shouldn't
be coming out to visit Sherlock, but it wasn't like he could help himself.
Sherlock was amazing, not just beautiful, but just amazing at everything.
"Sherlock," he answered softly, happy to see his friend.
"You missed me," Sherlock stated, knowing that he was right. John nodded,
because there was no point in arguing when Sherlock was able to deduce John's
interest with only one glance.
"Yes. Will you stop calling me that? I'm not a pirate or even a sailor."
Sherlock's blue/silver eyes sparkled. "But John, I love envisioning you in such
a position of authority. It makes me so hot."
John shivered as Sherlock wrapped his long, thin arms around John's neck,
bringing their bodies closer together. Sherlock was nuzzling his cheek.
"But-"
"Oh, come now, John. Don't you like it when I call you 'Captain'?"
His breeches tightened considerably at the insinuation.
"And you love riding me."
The flush started in his ears, coloring them red and bleeding down his tanned
neck. Sherlock was always so foul mouthed when they were alone together.
"You love it, John. Would you ride me now? In the sunlight? Where anyone can
see us and realize that you engage in homosexual relations with a merman?"
John's ear tingled when Sherlock purred directly beside it. Sherlock's hands
were trailing down his back and over his arse, squeezing possessively. "I can
scent your arousal, you know. It would be foolish to deny yourself when we've
done this so many times," Sherlock added, nibbling on John's ear for good
measure.
Sherlock pulled and pulled until John's breeches loosened and fell down his
hips, revealing pale globes of flesh and the very thing Sherlock was talking
about.
"Shall I?" he asked, allowing John to decide.
"Oh, great Lord just do it, please!"
Sherlock smirked as his sex fluttered, releasing itself from it's scaled casing
and nudging insistently against John's entrance.
"Preparation or no?"
"You're slick already, just… put it in."
Sherlock's entire tail twisted, removing itself from John so that Sherlock
could strip him of his breeches. He pulled the squirming human onto his organ,
reveling in the gasp of surprise. Once John was practically straddling him, the
rest of his tail reached around, wrapping around John's torso and lifting him
up and pushing him back down.
"Do you think if this, John? When you ride your horses every day? Do you think
about riding me? Do you think about taking me inside your body and keeping me
there forever?"
John moaned, the thrusts coming in faster. The rocking of the waves and the
water adding to it.
"What do you want, John?"
"Sherlock! Please, just... "
Sherlock hand wrapped around John's own erection, steadily pumping up and down
as he laved John's exposed throat with attention.
John's body tightened considerably and Sherlock's tail lifted him one last
time, before forcing the human down suddenly. Both groaned through their joint
release, Sherlock's arms wrapping around his human in order to keep him close,
where he should be.
"My John," said Sherlock possessively.
"Mine."
===============================================================================
_A/N:_First_is_done!_
_How_was_it?_Let_me_know._
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Kidlock *****
Chapter Summary
     The bees, John!
Chapter Notes
     Fluffy chapter.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
_A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!_
_I_don't_own_Sherlock._
_I_have_no_beta._
_ENJOY!_
    _CHECK_ME_OUT_ON_TUMBLR._HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON._I_FOLLOW_BACK._
===============================================================================
Sherlock tugged insistently on John's hand.
"Come, John. The bees aren't going to wait forever!"
"Sher, they'll be here all summer!" protested the little blond.
Sherlock sighed because of course John wouldn't understand the importance of
the pollination process.
"Please, John?" Sherlock mumbled, using his best 'cute' face.
John stared, "That doesn't work and you know it."
"But, John!"
"I want some ice cream first. Then we can spend the afternoon in the pasture."
Sherlock huffed, folding his arms and turning away from his only friend.
"I'll get the chocolate chip mint flavor," John said, knowing it was a weak
spot for Sherlock.
The curly headed boy glanced over slyly and asked, "And do I get some?"
"If you're good, yes."
"Fine. Then let's go."
In the end, John's ice cream ended up being 'their ice cream' because no way
would Sherlock just get one of his own.
"Bees now?" Sherlock asked, looking properly innocent and cute.
John sighed, "Bees now."
===============================================================================
_A/N:_First_is_done!_
_How_was_it?_Let_me_know._
_Check_out_my_other_Johnlock_fics._
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Teenlock *****
Chapter Summary
     Fluff teens!
Chapter Notes
     Cute with sexual implication.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
_A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!_
_I_don't_own_Sherlock._
_I_have_no_beta._
_ENJOY!_
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===============================================================================
"Why can't you take class seriously?"
Sherlock rolled over, eyeing his one and only friend with a look of complete
boredom. "John, the teachers are idiots. I don't care about school. I don't
even need to go."
"Then why go at all?" John demanded, frustration leaking into his tone.
Sherlock squirmed under those stormy, blue eyes. "Because… you go there, John."
He could see all of John's annoyance bleed away and his eyes become misty. And
then came that smile. The one that meant that John was proud of him for
something he did.
"You git," he murmured, still smiling.
Sherlock sniffed, "You are the only tolerable person I know, after all. I
cannot stand people in general but you are different so obviously I would
prefer to be around you as often as possible."
"Just admit that you feel sentiment for me," John grinned.
"Absolutely not. I hate repeating myself."
John's knowing grin never wavered and Sherlock simply rolled onto his stomach
in order to push his face into his pillow.
How dare John snicker!
"Oh, Sher," John sighed. "Are you going to sit over there or come here and kiss
me?"
Sherlock bounced up, unable to restrain himself from such an invitation.
"Only if you kiss me back."
John smiled.
"I'll do more than that."
===============================================================================
_A/N:_First_is_done!_
_How_was_it?_Let_me_know._
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Alphalock *****
Chapter Summary
     Alpha Sherlock and Omega John gettin' it on!
Chapter Notes
     In which Sherlock likes how John takes control during sex.
     Topping from the bottom.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
_A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!_
_I_don't_own_Sherlock._
_I_have_no_beta._
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===============================================================================
Sherlock liked how John - even though he was an Omega - preferred topping from
the bottom. It was the sexiest thing Sherlock had ever seen.
He'd never been with an Omega, but he knew enough about them to know that they
were submissive and docile to an Alpha's needs. John was not submissive, nor
was he docile. In fact, his sense of smell was very dulled, therefore making it
easier for him to communicate with Alphas without suffering hormonal overdrive.
John liked sex. So much so that in the army, he'd had the 'privilege' of being
with several people. John 'Three Continents' Watson wasn't a joke. John had
skill and it was apparently very well known. John had been with Alphas, Betas,
and Omegas. He was not the kind to worry about primary gender or secondary
gender. It was sex and sex was his forte.
And when they decided to become flatmates, John had warned him that he liked
sex and that getting territorial wouldn't be in his best interest. But then two
years, three territorial fits, and seventy-three lovers later, he and John
finally admitted their feelings for each other and shared a Heat, which was
also the night they Bonded.
And now here they were, three months later and John still hadn't changed even
though he bore Sherlock's mark proudly. John, who liked to be in charge during
sex, even though he was on the receiving end, rode Sherlock's cock like he was
born to do it.
And while John had had over five hundred sexual exploits in his lifetime, he
was still so tight. The heat of his body, the grip on Sherlock's cock, the very
obvious desire on his face as he looked down at Sherlock, pulled the Alpha over
the edge. John's body tightened and both came, screaming their pleasure for all
of London to hear.
===============================================================================
_A/N:_First_is_done!_
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Omegalock *****
Chapter Summary
     John is a Beta.
     Sherlock is an Omega.
     John is well hung.
Chapter Notes
     Sex, fluff, some dom I guess.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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"I don't want to Bond."
"Sherlock, I know this may come as a shock to you, but you aren't the first
Omega to ignore your natural biology or hormones. Many Omegas never Bond. In
fact, a good portion of Omegas are asexual. Your secondary gender and how you
handle it isn't what makes you extraordinary."
Sherlock gaped at his Beta friend.
"What?"
John simply shrugged. "I'm just saying, you are different, but being an Omega
who doesn't want to Bond, isn't what makes you stand out so much. You're on
suppressants like millions of other Omegas are. It's not something new."
"But all of the Omegas I've met are sniveling pieces of waste."
"You rarely leave London, how would you know about other people?"
Sherlock was silenced immediately and he proceeded to fold himself into his
chair and pout.
"I'm going to Tesco's. Anything you want?"
John received no answer.
===============================================================================
Both consulting detective and doctor were breathing heavy.
"We- we get into… the most ridiculous situations… ever!" John gasped, breathing
strained.
Sherlock giggled, prompting John to giggle. They were a couple of idiots.
"Want some tea?" John asked as he began removing his coat.
Sherlock's eyes trailed after the movement. "No, I want something else."
Sherlock pounced, knocking John into the wall and slamming their mouths
together.
John moaned, gripping Sherlock curls tight and pulling his as close as
physically possible.
"I thought you were married to your work," he gasped against Sherlock's perfect
lips.
Sherlock bucked into John's body. "I am. You're here, aren't you?"
"But we aren-"
"Yes we are."
John pulled back, gaping. "What?"
"You signed the papers three months ago, John, didn't you notice when I asked
you about them?"
"What?" he repeated, not knowing what else to say.
"We've been married for three months. Mycroft officiated it and everything."
John paused, thinking back. "You dick, you didn't tell me what I was signing or
why it was so important! You demanded I sign them, that it wasn't that
important to know, and then ripped them from my hands when I was done!"
Sherlock frowned. "I did?"
"Yes! You tend to do that a lot," grumbled, John.
Sherlock's eyes rolled. "It doesn't matter. I don't want to Bond with an Alpha.
I want to Bond with you. But since Omegas and Betas can't Bond, I figured this
was the next best way to do so."
John sighed, of course this was Sherlock's way of Binding them together for the
rest of their lives. "Next time, please tell me what it's for."
"Okay. Can we get back to snogging and then possibly shagging? I've been dying
to measure your cock."
John coughed, face going red. "What?"
"Your cock is larger than six inches, putting you in the range of an Alpha
sized cock, which shouldn't be possible. Come."
Sherlock latched onto his arm and tugged him down the hall and into his
bedroom. The door closed with a final and quiet click and Sherlock quickly
began divesting John of his coat and jumper.
"How about you take off your own clothes so we can get comfortable?" John
suggested, already moving to unbutton his collared shirt. Sherlock's skill at
undressing was unquestionable because he was already nude by the time John had
pulled off his trousers.
Sherlock pushed him down on the bed, kneeling before him in order to stare at
the large bulge in his pants. With careful precision, he stripped the black
fabric from John and eyed the Beta's cock.
Blue eyes widened and he looked up at John. "I understand why you easily
procured sexual companions," he stated, wrapping his hand around the heated
flesh. At least, he attempted to but realized that his fingers did not reach.
He pulled back, pulling something from his bedside table. Measuring tape. He
wrapped the cold plastic around John and smiled. "Alpha's are always seven to
ten inches in length. You are nine inches and one centimeter. I have long
fingers and the circumference of an erect Alpha's cock is usually six to seven
inches. I can hold four and a half naturally. You are 16.51 centimeters in
circumference, making you about 5.25 centimeters in width. That's a little more
than two inches."
"So?"
"John, while you may not be an Alpha, you have an Alpha cock! It's one of the
largest I've seen. And you will be putting this inside me, now!"
"You're bossy."
"Yes. Now take me and make me sing."
John smirked and pulled Sherlock into the bed. "Is that a plea or a demand?"
"It depends on how fast you move."
John hummed. "I don't know," he murmured, "I don't think I feel like it now."
Sherlock's horrified face was enough to make him laugh. John surged upward,
grabbing Sherlock's thin, attractive body and twisting them around, slamming
him into the bed and enjoying the look of utter shock on his face.
John situated himself between his husband's thighs and smirked. "Now Sherlock,
are you going to be good?"
Stormy grey eyes fixed him with a glare. "I want sex. Why do I have to be good
to get it?"
"Because I like it rough, Sherlock. And your attitude depends solely on
how hard you get it."
Something sparkled in Sherlock's eyes and John knew instantly, that Sherlock
favored the rough kind of sex. And when Sherlock opened his mouth and insulted
John's sexual expertise, John knew that Sherlock was pushing him over the edge.
With slow movements, John entered Sherlock, no preparation at all. The slide
was hot, the friction nearly unbearable. Sherlock's moan of pleasure was all he
needed to know. His husband - he liked the way that sounded, husband - was okay
like this. He wanted it.
John would give it to him, if he was a good boy.
The thrusts weren't measured. They came and went in an erratic tempo, rising
and falling. Fast to slow. Long and drawn and then suddenly sharp and piercing.
Sherlock writhed on the black sheets of his bed, head thrown all the way back,
baring his throat to John. Like an offering. An offering John wasn't about to
let slip away.
The Beta leaned over his husband, pressing their heated bodies together and
trapping Sherlock's leaking cock between them, in order to bite down on the
pale skin that was stretched obscenely. Tauntingly. His thrusts never ceased,
even as his body pushed Sherlock's deeper into the sheets.
Sherlock's gorgeous fingers moved to grip his doctor's shoulders, pulling him
even closer.
Little gasps of sound escaped from that perfectly shaped mouth, spurring John
onward.
He bit down on that pale column of flesh, enjoying Sherlock's pained/pleasured
moan.
"Again!" Sherlock demanded, voice breathy.
John merely hummed, his face moving down as his thrusting slowed.
Sherlock whined, bucking his hips into John and trying to take him in again,
but John had already stopped moving, leaving the Omega frustrated.
"I don't like your attitude, Mr. Holmes," John murmured into Sherlock's
pectorals, tongue peaking out to lave against a tightened bud.
"Watson!" Sherlock groaned suddenly, lifting his torso in order to get closer
to John's wandering mouth.
"Hm?"
John was already biting the pebbled skin, enjoying the low curse that left
his husband's lips. So rarely did that occur.
"It's Watson... now!" Sherlock growled, trying to lift his hips more.
John's ministrations ceased altogether and he looked up, meeting Sherlock's
hooded gaze. "You took my name?"
Sherlock nodded, spurring John into motion again, this time fast. Terribly
fast. Each thrust was like an inward stab against Sherlock's passage and the
brunet let out the most erotic and wanton moan that John had ever heard.
Biting harshly onto the same abused nipple from before, John brought Sherlock
to completion, the tight squeezing around his shaft pulling him along as well.
His spine was tingling from the buzz. The light-headedness accompanied by the
feeling of losing all breath in his body just adding to the experience.
Their chests were covered in the evidence of Sherlock's pleasure and John felt
proud that his detective was looking so... debauched. All because of John.
Sherlock flopped against the bedding. "You... are simply... evil. Your cock is
like... I can't even begin... but it is."
John purred, "Have I rendered you speechless, Mr. Watson?"
Sherlock... speechless from being shagged to thoroughly by John. A lovely
mental image.
"Shut up," Sherlock grumbled, pulling John down to the bed and rolling them
onto their sides, allowing John to slip from his body.
"I love you too, Sher," John laughed lightly, wrapping an arm around Sherlock
and tugging him close.
The detective went, snuggling into John. "We should have shagged ages ago," he
murmured into John's neck.
"Yeah."
"I love you too, John."
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     Someone wanted a sexy, John in charge o/s.
***** Catlock *****
Chapter Summary
     Kitty ears and tail!
Chapter Notes
     Naughty Catlock.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
John's patience was tested to the limit. He knew that Sherlock had made a
mistake in his experiment which resulted in him having cat ears and a
prehensile tail, and he could understand those parts, but how on Earth did
Sherlock manage to take on the instincts and mannerisms of a feline as well?
Sherlock was usually lazy. He was picky. He bothered John when he wanted
something. He was agile. Nimble. Flexible. But after the experiment that had
gone awry, he was suddenly more. Sherlock had often spent a majority of his
days, supine. Now though, he made laying down look like some sort of erotic
dance. Stretching was equivalent of a stripper doing what they did best.
Putting on an enjoyable show. Sherlock had always been graceful and unnaturally
silent in movement but now he practically floated everywhere, while walking on
the balls of his feet.
Sherlock also began sleeping wherever his body decided he should sleep. Often
enough, John would find Sherlock either curled up on the sofa, lying prostrate
over his favorite chair, and one time, John had found him sleeping under the
kitchen table, he'd also been removed from John's room several times, and he
even slept on the stairs. He never even slept in his own bedroom, even though
that was what the bedroom was for. When John asked, Sherlock never gave an
answer.
On another note, John was very certain that Sherlock was deliberately doing
things in order to rile him up. Like when cats see something close to the edge
of the table and they feel the need to knock it over and look around see if
somebody saw them do it. Several cups of tea suffered in the long run.
Other than the annoying things, Sherlock was a lot more expressive with his
feelings and physical contact. John often found himself on the sofa underneath
a slumbering feline-human hybrid, and not allowed to move an inch, because
Sherlock would get hissy. Literally he would hiss at John if John disrupted his
rest. While part of that was annoying, it was nice to see Sherlock expressing
himself these days.
But then he also got very clingy. In an effort to keep John around more often,
Sherlock started charging clients a little bit more and taking on more of
Mycroft's government cases so that John could quit his job at the clinic and
spend more time in Sherlock's company. Sherlock also had the habit of rubbing
his face over everything that belonged to John, and he tended to grab onto
John's clothing whenever they walked. And if anyone gave John more than just a
passing glance, they would promptly be hissed at.
And then today, Sherlock licked John's cheek and proceeded to rub his saliva in
with his nose.
John's patience was finally at its limit and he'd waited three months!
Just as he went to open his mouth, something smooth and furry was rubbing
against his cheek and moving downward. Over his neck and his chest. Under his
shirt, brushing across his abdomen.
His breath wavered and he snapped around to see Sherlock leaning against the
wall, eyes half mast and burning a hole through John. The tail didn't stop its
descent into John's trousers, flicking wildly against the skin of his hips and
moving further down.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?"
"You know, John," Sherlock purred, pushing off from the wall and stalking over
to his flatmate. "We've been dancing for too long, you and I."
"'Dancing'?"
"I'm tired of seeing you with those women. They are boring. They don't bother
to get to know you."
Sherlock's long fingers joined his tail, pulling at John's trousers.
"They don't deserve you."
The tail finally reached the shockingly erect penis in John's pants, wrapping
around it and giving a slow tug. John moaned at how soft the fur was.
"They don't deserve what's mine."
Sherlock swooped in, taking John's mouth while his tail proceeded to jerk
roughly on John's sensitive flesh. Sherlock clutched the doctor close, grinding
their hips together. He purred, his doctor was leaning into him and moaning for
more. Not for some little tart in a short skirt. For Sherlock.
With another jerk, John's body tightened and Sherlock was proud of
himself. He did this to John. The doctor sagged in his arms and Sherlock
gathered him closer.
"The bedroom?" he asked, smirking down at his friend.
John flushed, but nodded.
"Good. I want to use my tail for more experiments on your body."
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Asexuallock *****
Chapter Summary
     Sherlock doesn't like intercourse, but he and John discover that
     fellatio is a gold mine.
Chapter Notes
     Cock sucking.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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"I don't like intercourse."
John coughed up his tea.
"What?!"
Sherlock shrugged, not looking away from his food. "I know you want a
relationship, but intercourse has never interested me."
"So then… you've never-"
"I've had sex, John. I needed to understand the process so I have given and
received. I disliked both situations and I simply prefer to simply deal with my
rare bursts of arousal on my own.
So if you plan on being sexual, do not expect to penetrate me or for me to
penetrate you."
John was terribly flushed. "I had assumed that you wouldn't want any sex." No
point in hiding his attraction, Sherlock knew everything already.
Sherlock's right brow quirked, "And you are prepared to give up intercourse to
be with me?"
John straightened in his chair, wrinkling his nose a bit. "Okay, there is more
than one way to have sex with someone. And I would like to point out that I
don't mind if you don't want to be buggered or shagged. As for me… well, I've
wanted to suck your cock for awhile."
Sherlock's startling blue eyes bulged considerably, making John snicker.
"Never had a blowjob?"
Sherlock's head moved from side to side. The consulting detective was staring
at John like he was something mysterious. "I thought you weren't gay?"
"I'm not. I'm Bi."
"There's always something!" Sherlock grumbled, shoving a piece of toast into
his mouth.
"So?"
"Hm?"
"Can I suck you off?"
"Right now?"
"Yeah. An experiment. Let's see if you like it."
"Whatever."
John was about to ruin that nonchalance.
With a wicked grin, John slipped under the table, ignoring the gasp from his
flatmate.
Now, to prove him wrong.
Sherlock's white pajama bottoms were pulled down, revealing what John had so
improperly dreamed of. Sherlock was not erect in the slightest, but John was
positive that he could change that. He'd handled all manner of cock over the
years and he knew that every man had different interests.
He blew cold air on it first, noting the small twitch of Sherlock's hips. With
a grin, he blew warm air on it, noticing that Sherlock had stiffened in his
chair. Sherlock was circumcised, which John actually liked. He reached up,
trailing the nail of his index finger over the pale flesh. Sherlock shivered
and his body began to react.
John could hear him trying to regulate his breathing, even as he watched
Sherlock's impressive length begin to swell and raise. Sherlock's chair pulled
back slightly and John looked up to see his friend glancing under the table at
him, eyes looking spectacularly shocked.
"I am becoming aroused," Sherlock stated, awe saturating his voice.
John smirked, leaning forward flick his tongue against the glans. A small
brush, but it did the job. Sherlock gasped.
It seemed that light touches caused Sherlock's cock to grow faster. Sherlock
preferred delicate handling then. John could just imagine Sherlock as the kind
to get off on silk. And as he thought on it, Sherlock's bedding was made of
silk.
Oh, he was naughty.
Unfortunately, John did not have any silk present, so he had to rely on his
skills alone.
With controlled ease, John slid his mouth onto Sherlock cock, allowing his
teeth to graze against the flesh ever so slightly, a mere tease. It had the
intended effect as Sherlock groaned and gripped the sides of his chair until
his knuckles turned obscenely white at the effort.
John pulled back, making sure that he flicked his tongue over the shaft.
He pulled off, blowing cool air on it once again and enjoying how Sherlock
squirmed, trying to get his comfort back, even as his legs spread wider to
accommodate John. The doctor repeated his actions, reaching down to stroke
Sherlock's scrotum. His finger massaged the dip lightly.
"Hand me one of the clean beakers," John ordered before sliding back onto
Sherlock's cock, pushing his face toward Sherlock's pelvis and holding it
there.
Sherlock took a few seconds, before handing the only clean one available, over.
John reached up to grasp it, before pulling away and giving one long and rough
stroke to Sherlock's erection, the callouses on his hand always brought his
lovers off.
Sherlock gasped as he came, his back arching in his chair. John caught it all
with the beaker.
Sherlock's taught thighs relaxed and he sagged. John was too busy smirking at
the beaker of white cum to pay attention.
He scrambled out from under the table and waved the evidence of Sherlock's
enjoyment, in his friend's face. "Well look at that! You like blowjobs!"
Sherlock wasn't even glaring, his was still breathing heavily, face flushed red
and mouth open tauntingly.
Just as John was about to continue, Sherlock surged upward, grabbing the
doctor's shoulders and pulling him over the table in order to kiss him. John's
free hand reached up, grabbing Sherlock curls and tugging on them.
"That was amazing," Sherlock murmured against John's lips.
"I know," John agreed, remembering the look on Sherlock's face when he came.
Sherlock's eyes were dilated and he looked at John and then the beaker. "Drink
it," he ordered.
John's brow cocked. "You like that kind of-"
"Drink it, John."
John drank it.
Sherlock's pleased smile made him tingle and his wandering hands worked to
bring John off.
"Such a good doctor."
Such a good detective.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Male Escortlock *****
Chapter Summary
     Sherlock posing as an escort.
Chapter Notes
     Sherlock and John are jerks. But cute jerks.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
Sherlock stared at the small man that had walked into the room. Not a regular
customer. In fact, he seemed all business. Former army, psychosomatic limp.
Unassuming. More dangerous than he appeared.
The man limped over to the manager and they spoke in quiet murmurs.
Sherlock was only 'working' there to catch a murderer. He wasn't actually a
male escort. Though he wouldn't mind being this man's escort.
By the appearance of the manager, his request was odd. The woman looked around
the room, before her eyes landed on Sherlock. Her lips pursed and she looked
reluctant. Oh! Sherlock fit the criteria but since he wasn't an actual worker,
she couldn't send him out with people.
Not caring, Sherlock strode across the room, stopping before the counter and
shocking the little man leaning on it. "Yes?"
The woman stuttered. "Mr. Watson?" she asked the blond man.
The man's eyes widened a bit, but he didn't do much else when looking at
Sherlock.
"Do you have a good memory?"
Sherlock smirked, "Yes."
"Can you act?"
"Most certainly."
"Can you be a bit of a dick so other people sort of don't like you and would
understand why I'd choose to date you.?"
"I'll just act like I normally do, Captain."
Watson's face was a mask of surprise. "How?"
"Your stance, the way you hold yourself. You haircut, your tan lines. You were
recently invalided home, though your injury is in the left shoulder and your
limp is psychosomatic."
"That's fantastic!"
It was Sherlock's turn to be surprised. No one had ever said that to him
before.
"You… really think so?"
"It was extraordinary!" breathed the army man. "How did you know?"
"I observed from what I saw, simple. I do it all the time. No one has ever…
said that to me before."
"What do people normally say?"
"Piss off."
The man laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners a bit. They looked much
brighter than when he walked in.
Sherlock glanced to the manager, "I'll go with him."
"B-but-"
"I will go."
And that was that.
"John Watson."
"Sherlock Holmes."
===============================================================================
Sherlock was intrigued by John Watson. The man was not interested in sex with
Sherlock, yet was he trying to hide his attraction. He didn't plan to act on
it. It was simply business.
"My sister and her wife are having a get together. My sister is adamant that I
am gay, but I've never been with a man. Never been interested in men. Never
found one sexually attractive, so I'm sure I'm not. But she gets into these
fits and doesn't like to be told she's wrong. She's a recovering alcoholic and
whenever we argue about my sexual orientation, she binge drinks afterwards and
I don't want another relapse to occur because of me."
So that was it. How incredibly kindhearted. Sherlock should be disgusted, but
he was mystified instead.
"So the story is, I was visiting my friend Mike Stamford and he introduced you
to me."
Sherlock's head whipped toward John. "You know Mike?"
Not listening to John's question, Sherlock's mind was already working through
it all. "You trained at Bart's, that's how you know him. You're an army
doctor."
"How did you- you know Mike."
"I'm a Chemist, among other things. I frequent the labs at Bart's often enough
and sometimes he's working when I come in. He's trying to help me find a
flatmate. In fact, you're looking for a flatmate."
John's jaw seemed to permanently touch the floor of the cab. "You're amazing."
Sherlock turned away to hide his flush. No one had ever said that either. He
cleared his throat, "You can say that we've been dating for a few months and
that we're planning to move in together. Even though we aren't dating, I could
use a flatmate. I have my eye on a nice place in central London and the owner
is cutting the price in half because I did her a favor several years ago."
John was silent for a moment, "How about we check out the flat after this
party?"
"Okay."
They sat in silence for a moment, before Sherlock felt the need to inform John
about his job. If they'd be flatmates, they man should learn now.
"John."
"Hm?"
"I'm not actually a... male escort. I'm a consulting detective and I'm help
Scotland Yard solve a murder. I was posing at the service in case the killer
came in."
John stared for a moment, "Wait! Did I just take you away from something
important?"
"No," Sherlock shook his head. "The murderer walked in while we were leaving
and I've already messaged DI Lestrade with the information. I'm free now. And
I'll pay for myself in helping you. I'm intrigued by you so you will not be
paying."
"But-"
"I'm paying."
John sniffed, but nodded stiffly.
More silence.
"What exactly is a consulting detective?"
Sherlock eagerly went into an explanation of his job and just what he did. He
pulled his website up on his mobile and showed it to John, making sure he read
it out.
"You are something else, aren't you?"
"Obviously."
"So what kind of quirks do you have? I like to paint whenever I feel it and I
have light OCD."
"I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. I
have a makeshift lab in my kitchen where I do experiments."
"Dangerous experiments?"
"For idiots perhaps, but I am not an idiot."
John merely smiled. "I'd definitely like to see the flat you're talking about."
===============================================================================
Sherlock and John giggled in the cab on their way to see 221B Baker Street. The
party had been rather boring. Until Sherlock began deducing people to bits and
annoying them to no end. This prompted Harry to huff. "After first I thought he
was too posh for you, but he's a twat. Do not bring him again, Johnny."
So they didn't have to stick around for much longer.
John was glad to be out of there and Sherlock seemed to have enjoyed himself.
He liked revealing secrets.
Mrs. Hudson was accommodating, taking them up to the flat and letting them look
around. She then asked if they'd be needing two bedrooms.
"No," Sherlock answered abruptly.
She smiled brightly, clapping her hands together twice and bustling off down
the stairs.
John gaped. "We're not a couple!" he hissed lowly.
"Yet."
"But-"
"No, you aren't homosexual. It's just me you're attracted to."
Sherlock was all smiles, feeling no embarrassment over the situation. He was
getting ready to permanently share a bed with the attractive army doctor.
Nothing bad.
"We haven't even gone on a date yet!"
"Well then after this, I know this perfect, little, Italian eatery down the
road. We'll go there."
And that was that.
They ate for free at Angelo's. Angelo always had it 'on the house' because he
felt so indebted to Sherlock. He and John talked over their food, in which
Sherlock actually eats but makes it known that he doesn't whenever he has a
case. He also informed John that The Work came first and that if John proved
himself, he'd and The Work would be on equal footing.
As they were leaving the restaurant, Sherlock groaned and wrapped a possessive
arm around John, shielding him slightly from the black car that had pulled up
beside them. "Go away, Mycroft!" Sherlock hissed at the lowering window.
"Get in and do try to be quiet about it, brother mine."
Sherlock wished his gaze could burn through the window, but he sneered, pushing
John toward the car. "Don't say anything, just let me handle this."
Once inside, Sherlock made it a point to drape and arm around John's shoulders
and stare Mycroft down, challenging him to just say something.
He did. Arse.
"Captain John Watson formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Has trust
issues and a psychosomatic limp. Intermittent tremor in left hand," Mycroft
read aloud from his little, black book.
John frowned at him, "You know, Sherlock got all that from looking at me. It's
not impressive when you have to look in a book for all the information."
Sherlock smirked. John was not threatened by the British Government. It was
perfect!
The two men glared at each other until the car pulled up outside Baker Street,
where Sherlock grasped John's hand and pulled him from the vehicle.
"Goodbye, Mycroft."
He pulled John away, making sure to keep his arm tightly around his shoulders.
"What was that about?"
"My annoying brother trying to protect me. When he calls on you tomorrow,
accept his request to spy on me, we can use the money he offers for our rent."
John simply nodded.
"For now, ignore that entire confrontation because we have business to attend
to."
"And what is that?" John asked, though he obviously knew the answer.
"Christening our new bedroom."
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Parentlock Pt. 1 *****
Chapter Summary
     They want to be parents!
Chapter Notes
     The inspiration for this came from some fanart I saw on Pinterest of
     Sherlock and John with two little boys. Mini-Sherlock had hurt mini-
     John and while John was tending to the wound, he was forbidding mini-
     Sherlock from any crime scenes for a week. Sherlock was irate over
     it. It was cute, so I did this!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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"You really want to do this?"
Sherlock gave John that, 'we both know what's going on here' look. "Yes, John."
"'Cause this is a big responsibility."
"I know that, but I believe that we can do anything, so long as we try. Mycroft
is our reference. He also created the paperwork necessary."
"Is this his payment for the whole Moriarty thing and you being dead for two
and a half years?"
"Yes. When I came back, he told me that you moved on and implied many
unpleasant things. I was relieved to see you unattached to someone, because I
don't like the thought of sharing you."
"You know, you're going to have to if this pulls through, right?"
"John, you know that I love you. I cannot share you with someone else when I
feel this way. When I thought you had gotten married, I thought I had lost my
chance. But I didn't. It was a great relief and now I'd like to take the next
step."
"But you only just proposed last night."
Sherlock sniffed, "Yes, well, I don't want to waste precious time."
"Okay," John smiled fondly. "I actually like the idea."
"I knew you would."
===============================================================================
"John! Look over there. A pair of mini mes!"
John looked to where Sherlock was pointing, seeing two boys being surrounded by
five bigger boys. The one who did indeed resemble Sherlock, was lying on the
ground with books scattered about him. The one who looked like John, was
standing defensively in front of him, slightly hunched. His teal eyes glaring
heavily at the bigger boys.
John frowned, not liking the odds and marched on over.
"Excuse me, gentlemen. Is there a problem?"
His voice was full of authority and the five bullies all straightened instantly
and turned to look at him. "No," they collectively said.
"Today is a visitation day and do you realize how bad it looks to the
prospective parents when they see bullies? Keep acting like this and you will
be in this orphanage until you are of age to leave legally. No one wants to
adopt a spoiled brat. Now return to the building, gentlemen."
Sherlock stood by as John set the boys straight and smiled lightly. Leave it to
John to take charge. That was his captain.
John then turned to the miniatures.
The John look-alike was still standing protectively over his friend. John gave
him a calm smile and said, "Hello, I'm Doctor Watson."
The boy's face cleared of fear instantly and he looked John over.
"If you're a doctor, can you fix my friend? They pushed him and he can't stand
now."
John looked down at the mini Sherlock and nodded. Kneeling down, but making
sure to still keep a safe distance, he asked, "What hurts?"
Mini Sherlock stared him down for a moment, before sighing. "I think I sprained
my left ankle and I may have pulled a muscle."
"May I?" John asked, used to asking children for permission. Sometimes he was
the only free doctor at the clinic and children were different from adults.
They didn't know about medical procedures and felt uncomfortable with unknowns
breaching their personal space.
The boy nodded and John tenderly checked the small ankle, mentally reeling at
how similar the mini Sherlock was to John's own Sherlock.
"Stay off it for the rest of the day and no running around. Some lingering
stiffness all tomorrow, but you'll be just fine."
The boys stared at him for a few seconds, before mini John said, "You talk
normal."
"Normal?" John asked. Hopefully he did. He'd been speaking for years.
Mini Sherlock intervened, "He means to say that you do not treat us as if we
are stupid."
Mini John nodded, "Yes. Adults seem to assume that because we're children, we
must obviously not know anything."
Mini Sherlock sighed. "Yes and I can't even begin to tell you how it irks me. I
used to believe that all adults were idiots," he said, casting John a
thoughtful look. "Perhaps I was wrong."
John was smiling. They had such a deep connection. They reminded him of he and
Sherlock.
"May we know your names?" John asked softly.
"It is polite to offer your own first and foremost," mini Sherlock stated
suddenly, looking at Sherlock.
Sherlock was crouched down beside John now. "I am Sherlock Holmes and I am the
world's only Consulting Detective."
John smiled at the introduction and gave his own greeting. "I'm Captain John
Watson, a doctor and his fiance."
Mini Sherlock's eyes went wide and he looked at mini John. "They are the men
from the telly yesterday."
Mini John nodded and his eyes were wide. "They catch the bad guys. And Mr.
Holmes proposed to Mr. Watson last night."
John blanched and looked to Sherlock, "What do they mean by 'telly'?"
Sherlock wasn't really paying attention and John heard some mumblings along the
lines of, "I knew there were reporters but I saw no cameras."
John sighed. Of course their moment wasn't private.
Mini Sherlock sighed, "I am Valerius Sophus Valravn."
"And I'm Sean James Wallis."
One had a really old and fancy name and the other was simple. The similarities
were frightening. And cute.
"Well it's a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen. Mr. Valravn, would you like some
help getting back to the building?"
Valerius nodded and gasped when John hauled him up easily into a cradle. Sean
grabbed all of the fallen books and papers.
Once inside the orphanage, John placed Valerius on a small armchair in the
drawing room. The boy thanked him softly. Sean hopped onto the seat beside him
and together they spread the books and papers out.
"It was nice meeting you boys," John smiled.
"Thank you."
Sherlock pulled him away before anything else could be said.
"John, they are perfect."
"I know."
Sherlock jumped and decided to take over from there. He charmed the secretary
and the matron and had them eating out of his palm before the hour was up. He
then had John fill out paperwork while he continued to negotiate and with a
call to Mycroft, the women were okay with allowing them to have a sort of one
on one meeting with the boys, so long as the matron was in the room while it
happened.
And so they went back to the drawing room to see that both boys were sitting on
the armchair still, both sharing a book. J.R.R. Tolkien's, The Silmarillion.
"Boys, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson would like to get to know you a little better.
Is that alright?"
The boys looked at the woman and then to the men, both nodded once and
together, they closed the book.
Matron Ophelia, clapped, "Wonderful. I'll be over here then."
And Sherlock pulled John over to the sofa opposite to the boys.
"What do you like to do in your spare time?"
And the floodgates were opened.
Valerius liked reading and writing, the the shade of blue that his eyes were,
and cooking. He hated bullies and those who were loud and didn't pay attention.
He was often teased and tormented for being smart.
Sean preferred to be called 'James', loved his friend's eye color as well, and
baking. He also hated bullies and the fact that adults refused to understand he
and Valerius. He was tough and protected his friend always.
Sherlock explained his love for science and observation. That he helped the
police catch the murderers. That he had an annoying older brother.
John explained that was a captain in the army. That he was injured and
discharged honorably. That he did work at a local clinic and assisted Sherlock
on cases and that he also liked cooking and baking.
Valerius was very straightforward in asking why they'd even consider adopting
both he and his friend and Sherlock allowed John to take over. He was better at
sentiment.
"Sher and I decided that we'd like to start a family, now that we're finally
together. But the both of us are a bit odd. We'd need children who could
understand our quirks and now be scared or disgusted by them."
Valerius and Sean shared a looked, before their little heads bowed together and
they began whispering, occasionally glancing at the two men sitting across from
them.
From the look on Sherlock's face, he could hear perfectly what they were saying
and the smile slowly spreading meant that it was all good.
John sighed in relief when the boys parted and gave a simultaneous nod.
Valerius took the reigns however.
"It'd be a pleasure."
                                TBC IN PART 2!
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
     Valerius- Valiant.
     Sophus- Clever.
     Sean- God is gracious.
     James- Supplanter.(Hamish is a version of the name James.)
***** Femlock *****
Chapter Summary
     Sherlock is a PITA. Jean is annoyed. Greg gets flashed.
Chapter Notes
     Established marriage.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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"Sherlock, stop walking around in only a sheet!"
"Jean, don't pretend that this annoys you, you and I both know that you like
it."
Jean Watson-Holmes flushed and looked away, intending to go back to her typing.
Sherlock however, spread herself out on the sofa, her long limbs spread out,
her sheet barely covering her more private parts. Her pale legs, clean and bare
of any unseemly hair, on display for Jean to see.
"Jean, I need some tea."
"Get it yourself."
"Jean."
"Jean!"
"Jean, Jean, Jean, Jean, Jean-"
After a minute of repeating Jeans name, the doctor got fed up and went to make
tea.
She slammed the cup down none too gently and glared at her friend. "Happy?"
Sherlock smirked, "Yes."
The consulting detective reached out, wrapping her fingers around Jean's wrist
and tugging the army doctor down. Jean collided with Sherlock's sheet covered
chest, blushing madly as the woman's long legs came to wrap around her hips.
"Sh-Sherlock!"
"Jean, we both know that-"
The door opened suddenly, leaving both women to turn. In walked Greg Lestrade
and Jean moved as quickly as she could, grabbing the parts of the sheet that
were on the floor and pulling the rest up to cover Sherlock's nearly nude form.
Greg gaped for a few seconds before turning a bright shade of red and
immediately turned around. "I'm sorry!"
He departed quickly, closing the door behind him as he went.
"You should get dressed."
"No, I'm more comfortable this way," Sherlock insisted, wrapping her thin arms
around her doctor, preventing the woman from getting up.
"Git," said Jean affectionately, pecking her wife on the lips.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
     Remember, I'm doing various Johnlock AUs.
***** Winglock *****
Chapter Summary
     Fluff.
Chapter Notes
     Sherls gets a surprise.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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"Sherlock, can we please just take our time?"
"But you don't like it gentle."
"I don't mind being gentle and taking my time in some things."
"Well, what's so bad about this? I assumed this was a natural thing among
couples."
"It's really intimate and the longer you take the more it seems so…"
"Personal?"
"Yes."
"But I've already been quite personal with you so this shouldn't have any
bearing on our interactions with one another."
"But it's-"
"Shh… I'll take good care of you, John."
"Sherlock," John whimpered pathetically as his mate continue to preen John's
golden feathers.
It wasn't that it was embarrassing, it was just an extremely erogenous zone for
John.
And he made the mistake of moaning.
Sherlock's eyes went wide with amazement.
"Oh, John!"
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Virginlock *****
Chapter Summary
     Humor/fluff.
Chapter Notes
     Talk of sex acts.
     Misconception of virgins.
     Sassy Sherlock puts John straight(but not in that way ;) )
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Sherlock Holmes was a virgin. Sherlock Holmes wanted to have sex. Sherlock
Holmes was a thirty-three year old virgin who wanted to have sex. Sherlock
Holmes was a thirty-three year old virgin who wanted to have sex with his best
friend and flatmate, John Watson.
John Watson was not a virgin. John Watson had been around the block more times
than probably anyone could count. He'd been around the continent as well if he
was to be believed. Three continents to be precise. He had experience and knew
almost everything about sex.
Everything, except having sex with a virgin.
John had never liked the idea of having sex with someone new to sex. Seriously,
if he made a mistake or misjudged, he'd probably get in trouble for it and he
really didn't want to deal with the possible legal ramifications that could
come from dealing with virgins.
But Sherlock didn't act like a virgin, which made things difficult.
"Sherlock, I don't really… how about you lose it to someone else and then come
talk to me?"
Sherlock huffed, "I don't want anyone else to have my virginity, John. Besides,
I know all about sex already."
"Sherlock, sex isn't science. You can't know everything about it until you've
explored it in depth."
"So I may not have all the experience you have but I'd prefer to learn the rest
at your hands. I don't… trust anyone… else."
John groaned because of course Sherlock had to say something that sweet at the
wrong possible moment. Right? "Look, Sherlock, I don't like bedding virgins. I
did once and it ended terribly. I may have good control, but not during sex, I
am rough and I like it hard. I prefer experienced people because we can
negotiate our likes. Virgins pose legal problems if I do something they don't
like because they can't handle it."
Sherlock pouted. "Just because a former girlfriend of yours tried to charge you
with rape simply because you brought her to orgasm with your mouth and fingers
alone, does not mean that every virgin is so weak."
John was slightly disturbed at how Sherlock even knew almost exactly what had
happened. Though he was wrong about one thing. "She actually wanted me to
perform anilingus but didn't know the names so when she said cunnilingus, I did
as asked. The only reason her charges fell through was because we intended to
have sex and she mixed up the names and when asked what she wanted, she said
cunnilingus and the entire courtroom just froze. The judge was completely
baffled. Why were we even there if I did as she asked and so forth? It was
revealed that she didn't know enough to understand and was punished for causing
all that drama.
But I learned a lesson that day. Virgins do not know enough about sex and her
example was enough to make me shy away from virgins."
Sherlock huffed again, "Always something. Idiot.
But don't let me suffer because of her. I may have never been with anyone but I
know what I like. There are such things as dildos, vibrators, and autofellatio
and I am very skilled with all three."
John flushed morbidly at the revelation of Sherlock able to do… that to
himself. But this was Sherlock so he really shouldn't be shocked at all. As for
knowing what he liked… John didn't know what to do. He had a steady fear of
touching virgins. But he didn't really want Sherlock to lose his virginity to
someone else and it even made him happy that Sherlock wanted his first time
having sex with a person, to be with John.
"You don't make this easy," he grumbled.
"I think it's perfectly easy. Have sex with me already."
"Now when we say sex, you mean…"
"I want you to penetrate my anus, John. I want to suck your cock and for you to
do the same. Possibly using my best riding crop while we're at it."
John stared for another moment, before both he and Sherlock were suddenly
racing to the detective's bedroom, where they'd proceed to do unmentionable
things to each other for the rest of the evening.
===============================================================================
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***** Unilock *****
Chapter Summary
     Sherlock is jealous of John's would be suitors.
Chapter Notes
     John is the sex god, in Sherlock's eyes at least.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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Sherlock glared at the preppy, blonde tart flirting with his John. How dare she
think that she had any sort of chance with John! John recently coming into the
realization that he was Bisexual and not just Heterosexual was supposed to be
Sherlock's chance to get his interest.
And now it seemed that everybody and their sister were converging on his John
and trying to snatch him away. This would not do. Not do at all.
But at least they both shared a dorm so Sherlock had more exposure to John than
anyone else did. He had a better chance than all of them, especially since John
didn't smile the same way for other people as he did for Sherlock.
On the way back to their dorm that evening, John had reached up and tousled
Sherlock's curls. "You don't have to pout so much, Sher, Mike wasn't making fun
of you."
Sherlock scoffed, "That is not what I'm in a mood about. I was annoyed before
the game."
Sherlock had already thrown himself on his bed and was awaiting John who would
go take a shower and then come in to do his assignments.
He heard the door open and glanced over… his jaw dropped.
John was leaning against the doorway, not clothed at all. John, who guarded his
nudity possessively, was naked. And he was smirking. Why was he smirking at
Sherlock like… that?
"You know," John began, pushing off from the wall and sauntering on over, not
caring that his cock was quite literally standing at attention and bobbing
minutely with every step he took. He came to a stop in front of Sherlock,
putting the young detective within equal eyeline to John's wonderfully, swollen
cock. "It's cute how you get jealous of everyone who talks to me."
Sherlock reared back, face flaming instantly. John knew!
"I'd been waiting for you to take what you want but…" John murmured, leaning
over Sherlock, smirk still in place. "I think you'd prefer if I took control.
What do you say, Sher?"
Unable to verbalize his feelings, Sherlock just gave a very jerky nod, hoping
that John was willing to explore this newfound dominance. John also had
experience, which Sherlock was lacking in and he'd know what to do from this
situation and onward, so it was only logical to allow him to do the work so
that Sherlock could learn from an expert.
John's warm hand pushed against Sherlock's right shoulder, rolling the up-and-
coming detective onto his back. The blond then swung himself over his long time
friend, straddling him, allowing his leaking cock to wipe against Sherlock's
pristine suit. With a glance downward, Sherlock moaned at the sight of the
white cum smearing his suit.
"I've wanted to do this for a long time," John purred, eyes also looking at the
cumn covered cloth. "To completely destroy your sophisticated appearance with
rough, well deserved sex."
Sherlock moaned at the mere idea of John taking him apart piece by delicious
piece. He could even vividly imagine himself after John has finished with him,
curls mussed even worse than normal, clothing askew and his lips red as beets,
with his face dripping in John's cum. He wanted John to cum on his face.
"I know how you love disorder," John murmured into Sherlock curls, mouth
brushing against the brunet's forehead. John's fingers traced Sherlock's bared
throat. Sherlock couldn't be more grateful for his personal distaste in neck
wear. It allowed John to just get to work, no unnecessary amounts of stripping.
"I'm going to fuck you while you're only in your shirt and suit coat."
Yes!
John shifted and for a few seconds, Sherlock wondered what he was doing, until
his legs where suddenly bare to the cold air of their dorm room. John had
stripped his black trousers off within seconds. The ease of his movements
turned Sherlock on even more, making the rising chemist moan aloud.
John palmed him through his black pants, seeming to enjoy Sherlock's writhing.
"You know, I've wanted to do this for a while. After seeing your gorgeous self
walking around in only a sheet, basically advertising your perfect arse for me
to see. How could I resist such an invitation, Sherlock?"
"You weren't… meant to!"
John smirked, hooking a finger in Sherlock's pants and pulling them down
slowly, revealing Sherlock's lower body completely to his greedy gaze.
"At the risk of sounding like some cliche, teen drama film, this is what my
dreams are made of."
John slipped down Sherlock's legs, sliding himself between them and pulling the
pants off. He spread Sherlock's legs, allowing them to frame his waist.
"Now… do we take this slowly or fast?"
"Fast!" Sherlock gasped, wanting the burning in his loins to go away. Wanted to
have sex for the first time. Wanted John to take and lay claim to him.
John's warm hands caressed pale thighs, "No, I think I'll take my time to enjoy
this veritable feast before me. Do behave, would you?"
Sherlock ended up finding out just how skilled John was and how evil the doctor
in training truly was. And while his hands were remarkable on their own, he was
particularly skilled in other places. Like his hands, and his mouth and his
hips.
Also, John's random stash of lubricant was put to good use as the blond turned
Sherlock onto his stomach and carefully leaned over him to prepare him,
ignoring the demands for faster penetration, teasing against Sherlock's insides
with only two fingers.
While Sherlock would be grateful for a slow experience later, he had really
wanted John to simply relieve him and hadn't expected a slow burn and some oral
torture to his neck. But he liked it all the same.
And he didn't regret any of it.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Balletlock *****
Chapter Summary
     Sherlock is a ballerino.
Chapter Notes
     John is cute.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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Sherlock smirked to himself, glad that everything had gone accordingly. As the
star in the role for the ballet, he already knew he'd done the best out of
everyone - that was why he'd been given the main role after all - but he did
often doubt himself when it came to his passions and seeing the audience truly
appreciate years and years of intense pain and practice(and a good amount of
self-deprecation and tears) made him feel lighter.
And what made him happiest was when his boyfriend, his very own army doctor,
came to his shows and smiled that amazed smile.
John Watson was up front, clapping along with the crowd, but there was
something different in his gaze, While everyone else was amazing, John showed
reverence… and lust. But mostly a deep level of reverence for Sherlock that was
so intimate it made the ballerino flush. It was like visual worship. It was
nice to have someone that cared.
Sherlock's graceful limbs spread in the customary movements as he gave a low
bow alongside his fellows.
John's gaze sharpened for a second and he reached down, drawing something into
his arms and then flinging it toward Sherlock. The danseur easily caught the
bouquet of white lilies, his favorite. He sent John a smiled and bowed once
more, before straightening.
The others began to depart from the stage and Sherlock turned to so the same,
but found his way on either side of the stage blocked but his fellow dancers.
They stood in a line, smiling at him. One of the girls - Cindy, he thought -
nodded her head very obviously to her right and he glanced over, noting that
the audience had gone silent.
Standing before him, was John, one hand tucked into his pockets and the other
holding into a cooler. Sherlock frowned, not getting where this was going, but
did relinquish the bouquet in order to bend down and open the cooler.
Inside, was something that made him practically glow.
Not many knew that Sherlock had a Masters in Chemistry. He liked to experiment
in his free time and could even enumerate 243 types of tobacco ash from years
of study.
So when he found an assortment of chopped limbs, all properly labeled in where
they came from and the pièce de résistance - which was a real, severed hand,
covered in a latex glove with a golden ring adorning the ring finger - he
retrieved the gold and slipped it on before quickly jumping his now fiancee,
kissing him for all he was worth.
The audience burst into applause, but Sherlock and John were caught in each
other, smiling warmly.
"I can't wait to become Mr. Watson," Sherlock breathed.
"And I can't wait for you to bear my name," John smiled, pulling him back in.
This… had to be one of the best days ever. And he was so pleasantly surprised
that they all managed to fool him.
It was brilliant!
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Potterlock *****
Chapter Summary
     Slytherin-Sherlock, Hufflepuff-John.
Chapter Notes
     Sherlock is a cunning little git!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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"Sherlock, I do not need your scarf, I'm fine."
Said Slytherin did not listen at all, already in the process of wrapping his
green and silver House scarf around John's neck. The colors clashed horribly
with the gold and brown of John's hat and gloves.
"Nonsense. You do not have a scarf since your last suffered in that dreadful
experiment in Transfiguration. If you're wearing a hat and gloves, you are cold
enough to need a scarf."
"Okay, first of all, you were the one who 'accidentally' burned my scarf
somehow. Second, I don't want to wear it because it doesn't match my clothes!"
Sherlock sent him a bland look before swiping his wand over John's head. The
satisfied smirk that flitted across his face was enough to alarm, John who
looked down at himself to assess the damage. Sherlock had turned all brown and
gold into silver and green. That git!
"The bloody hell was that for?" he demanded, cuffing Sherlock upside the head.
"You not longer clash. We can go to Hogsmeade now."
John fumed, but knew that he was getting nowhere fast, so he just decided to
drop the situation and focus on other things.
"Well, we can't just leave, we have to wait for Molls, Greg, Jim, Seb, Kate,
and Irene."
"Irene is with her lover on Saturdays in the Room of Requirement, Molly and
Graham are going on a date and the other two didn't want to come."
"Since when?"
"Since yesterday. Now come along, John."
Sherlock was already striding out the double doors of the Great Hall with John
rushing to catch up.
"His name is Greg. You know it, so why don't you use it?"
Sherlock smirked. "Because it annoys Gilcrest beyond measure."
"You git."
Sherlock held the door of the carriage open for him and he climbed inside,
aware that a gaggle of Gryffindor girls several feet away were giggling at
them.
"What's so funny?" John asked Sherlock who had already closed the door.
"Fools with limited brain power and intelligence are amused by the simplest
things. Nothing important I assure you."
Deciding to take Sherlock's word for it, John settled into his seat, watching
the passing scenery and enjoying himself, even when Sherlock had budged up on
the same seat as him and was practically clinging to his coat.
John never knew that Sherlock had particular intentions behind the scarf.
John was a Hufflepuff who had almost made Gryffindor. Sherlock was a Slytherin
who tried to force his way into Hufflepuff after meeting John Watson on the
train and taking a shining to him immediately. But unfortunately, the Sorting
Hat refused his demands, stating that he'd just terrify the Hufflepuffs and
that it wasn't doing that to innocent students. Slytherin was forced to put up
with him instead.
After the war, Slytherin had changed a little. Not as hardened against
everyone, and the rest of the school wasn't so against them either. It was a
tenuous relationship and Sherlock took advantage of it often enough.
So when he was spotted walking around with a Hufflepuff, he was helping promote
a better image of Slytherin. Not that he cared so much, but the whining had
ended within the years of his attendance at Hogwarts, and the reason there were
other students befriending Slytherins was because he had proven not to care
that John was a Muggleborn.
Others got up the courage and eventually, Gryffindors and Slytherins could be
found in little groups, having heated discussions. Also, it turned out that
Slytherin/Hufflepuff pairings were a common thing. Friendship or romance, the
pairs were vicious together and Sherlock was making a statement with John.
He was a well liked individual and Sherlock knew that most of the female
population wanted him and good portion of the males and non-binaries did as
well. He staked a claim on John by being with him always. By clinging to him.
By taking John's clothes, forcing him to wear Sherlock's Slytherin clothing.
John Watson was Sherlock's.
Eventually, John would know and then they'd be able to advance in their
relationship.
It would be just perfect.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Tutorlock *****
Chapter Summary
     Sherlock is tutoring John in Chemistry.
Chapter Notes
     NOTE: I only memorized Chemistry shit for tests and deliberately
     forgot it all when the testing passed and I received a perfect grade.
     I haven't had Chemistry in 3 years so if I wrote how to use it wrong,
     I don't care.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
"Come, John. You can do it."
John shivered at the encouraging tone in his ear. Who knew that his tutoring
sessions with Sherlock would turn into this? This debauchery?
They were supposed to be using empirical formulas in order to solve the
problem, but John's mind could not concentrate because Sherlock's hand was
slowly stroking his hard cock.
It was a reward as well as a torture method. A promise. John had gotten every
answer correct so far and the more he finished, the further Sherlock would go.
So far, he had five more to go before he finished Chemistry and he was having
trouble concentrating because Sherlock was going slow, nails digging just
lightly into John's slit.
He struggled to finish, completing two more and moaning obscenely when
Sherlock's hand began to move faster.
"Three more, John," Sherlock murmured in his ear.
18.
13.2g Ca
10.3g O
0.675g H
He could do this!
Another one was finished and John actually dropped his pencil when the pleasure
became too much. But when he stopped working, Sherlock's hand also stopped,
making him whine.
"Only good boys get rewards, John."
He took several fortifying breaths, before taking up his pencil and finishing
another.
The stroking continued anew, stronger than before. Sherlock was using the pre-
cum leaking from John in order to make the slide easier. John's thighs
tightened as the boiling in his gut spiked higher and higher.
"So close, my John."
He loved it when Sherlock resorted to possessive language.
There was just something about being loved by someone who hates everyone else.
And it made John feel special. Important.
The stroking came faster, making him wiggle in his chair as he finished the
final formula.
"Good boy," praised Sherlock, squeezing John tightly and fastening his teeth
into John's bared throat.
The wannabe doctor came with a scream that no doubt alerted the campus as to
what was going on in room 221B in the Boy's Dorm. And he didn't give a damn.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Demonlock *****
Chapter Summary
     The fallen.
Chapter Notes
     This is a work of fiction, remember that. Imaginations run wild here.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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The Fallen walked among the humans as if they owned the world. It was always
obvious when someone was a demon. Not that they didn't look human, it was just
that they were much too attractive to look away from without great effort. And
the children of the Fallen... They were even worse.
Human/demon relations weren't so shocking. Everyone knew about them. It was the
fact that the children of a human/demon pairing would be like mutants that had
shocked in the beginning. They'd have certain powers or skills more advanced
than others.
Sherlock Holmes was a demon. John Watson didn't know what kind, but he was
certain that the male's intelligence was so sharp because he was a pure demon.
Not many people were pure humans or pure demons anymore, bloodlines mixing more
often than not. John just so happened to be a mix of fire, water, shadow, and
incubus. A full demon, but an unusual mix because most demons didn't not mate
with demons of other species. Familiarity ensured similar young. But John's
family was weird like that.
They didn't care. Love, lust, sex… it was all the same in a sense. Something
they wanted. Why should race or blood determine their happiness?
So when John met Sherlock, he was intrigued. Sherlock too was interested in the
anomaly that was John Watson.
Living together, especially since John was part incubus - therefore requiring a
lot of sexual fulfillment - had people curious about them. Nothing happened in
the first two years, but then… things changed when Moriarty - Sherlock's enemy
- decided to join their lives.
In a fury worthy of the best fire demons, Sherlock and John both tore into
their foe as if he was no threat to them. And then proceeded onto hot and heavy
sex right in the pool room, not caring about the show the sniper got. Though
their advanced olfactory senses told them the sniper enjoyed themselves very
much.
And that was that. Their dynamic changed.
Sex was frequent, despite Sherlock always claiming that he couldn't because of
The Work or thinking, but he always went back on his word and this time was no
different.
John had given it much thought and he was certain that he wanted to mate his
best friend turned lover. Sherlock's eyes had been normal, if not a little
dilated as he practically writhed beneath John's demanding thrusts. But when
John's small inquiry reached his ears, those heterochromatic eyes lost all
color, bleeding black until John was simply staring into pools of black ink,
the sclera had even been overtaken.
"Yes!" Sherlock agreed, wrapping arms and legs around John, pulling his lover
closer into himself. "I want you to bite me and fill me with your seed, John!"
Kinky and so worth it.
John yanked Sherlock up, burying his fangs into his mate's neck as they both
came, Sherlock's extraordinarily vocal pleasure shaking the room around them.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Alphalock X2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Alphas who got it bad for each other!
Chapter Notes
     Filthy sex. ^-^
     Sherlock and John are equally possessive Alphas! ;)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
John Watson's initial worries over two Alphas living under the same roof were
destroyed about a month in. Sherlock Holmes was unlike any person John had ever
met. But he was undeniably and Alpha. And John Watson was also an Alpha.
Normally Alphas could not live in close proximity with each other unless one
was a child, but Sherlock and John made it work.
There scents covered the flat from top to bottom. Both of their scents were on
the sofa and the table and the chairs. Only their bedrooms remained free of the
other's scent. John did not intrude in Sherlock's bedroom and Sherlock did not
go anywhere near the stairs to get to John's.
In that month, they learned to put up with each other. John was still amazed by
Sherlock, no matter how many times he heard the man deduce people to pieces, he
couldn't help himself. Sherlock seemed to tolerate John more than he did other
people. Simply for the fact is that John apparently wasn't as much of an idiot
as everyone else in Sherlock's life was, except for Mycroft.
Sherlock liked to keep all manner of objects in the flat. Like one day, John
had come back from Tesco's to find a sword on the wall. When asked, Sherlock
simply said he had recently acquired it and that he wanted to mount it on the
wall. Conveniently, the flat smelled like a sty and there was a large groove in
the kitchen table. But John didn't want to press his luck, so he let it be.
At some point in their first month of acquaintanceship, Sherlock had acquired a
second skull to place on the mantelpiece. Jacques, which was Sherlock's first
skull, now had a lady friend who was named, Irma. Sherlock was so proud of
having them together as well. The moment John returned home from the shop he
was shoving the two skulls in his flatmate's face, introducing them.
Sherlock had quirks. He liked to experiment on things. In fact, he liked to use
the kitchen table for said experiments. Random things were placed about the
flat. Like that lovely jar of eyeballs in the microwave, or that not so lovely
head in the fridge right next to the eggs, or even the thumbs in the vegetable
drawer. But John learned to deal with it.
On the other hand, Sherlock had to learn to deal with John. John was not as
smart as Sherlock was and Sherlock bemoaned that fact on a daily basis. Because
John was not like Sherlock he could not understand Sherlock's methods or his
reasons for doing certain things. Sherlock had to put up with a mostly normal
person. The only reason he put up with John at all was because John apparently
was different than everybody else even if he wore plain jumpers, was
disgustingly social, and liked tea too much.
John also liked to make certain that Sherlock ate on a regular basis and was
also anal retentive on fixing up Sherlock's wounds whenever the consulting
detective came back from a particularly difficult case. Sherlock actually
didn't mind that part because it meant that he didn't have to go to the
hospital to get treatment. The downside to having a stay-at-home doctor on hand
was that John wouldn't let him do anything until he was fully healed. Sherlock
tended to mope when he was injured.
Something else John had to handle were the fits. Sherlock was a whiner and
there was no other way around it. Sherlock liked to draw attention to himself
and he would deliberately do things within John's line of vision in hopes of
gaining John's attention. John didn't fall for it half of the time which would
lead to silence. When Sherlock got in a strop it was like the world was ending.
He was a loud, he was obnoxious, he also tended to become more insulting than
normal, and finally, he would pout. That was dangerous at least in John's
opinion. Evil little last resort, it was.
Sherlock and John never had territorial issues. In fact it was sort of odd
because they should have had such issues and yet never did. At least, they
never had those issues with each other. But the one day that John had walked
downstairs to find Mycroft Holmes sitting in his chair, he probably lost it.
His reaction got Sherlock's attention. He had been in his bedroom doing who
knows what, when he came out to find John practically frothing at the mouth and
Mycroft staring at him. And the Sherlock did not become angered because Mycroft
was sitting in John's chair,he was bothered by the fact that Mycroft had dared
to enter another Alphas - in this case - personal space and incorporate himself
into their domain without permission, was enough to make him angry.
Mycroft learned early on that he was not to appear unannounced ever again.
Eventually, John and Sherlock's relationship became more friendly instead of
just tolerating each other. John really liked Sherlock. He was a kid, he was
arrogant, he was a bit too posh for John's liking, and yet he was so amazing
and charming and rather gorgeous too if John to be honest with himself, and it
wasn't fair. John had limited himself to only one gender, well only one primary
gender or one secondary gender. He never really cared about whether somebody
was a male or female or in between or something completely different. He didn't
care if they were an Alpha and Omega or a Beta. John just liked sex and if he
could get some he didn't care where it came from. So John was just really
shocked that he was so attracted to Sherlock. Because while he didn't mind
anyone's primary or secondary gender, he had never had anyone who was an Alpha.
He had many men, women, trans men and women, people who identified as both
people, who identified as neither, he'd had Betas and he had several of Omegas,
but he'd never had an Alpha. Not because John didn't care about genders and
gender roles, he'd simply never found in Alpha that he was attracted to. But
Sherlock was most certainly that Alpha.
John had to come to grips with these feelings of his during the case of the
Blind Banker and everything that had happened, John was fully able to analyze
his feelings for Sherlock Holmes. During their first case John had shot and
killed someone for Sherlock, thereby saving Sherlock's life. During that case,
John and his date had been kidnapped and mistaken for the wrong people.
Sherlock had come to the rescue and what had impressed John the most was the
fact that Sherlock had attempted to calm Sarah down. Sherlock who didn't really
care about emotions and sentiment, still untied to female Beta and tried his
best to calm her down.
John knew that Sherlock did not like Sarah at all. He's even made some very
unkind comments when he thought John was a paying attention. But John had
stressed that he liked to date and he liked to have sex and he would like to
form a bond of companionship with Sarah. And while Sherlock did not agree with
John's feelings on the matter he still respected them. Respected them enough to
calm said Beta down on John's behalf.
It was very sweet.
So sweet in fact, John and Sarah did not have another date. John had come to
grips with the fact that he was smitten. Sherlock was just someone that once
you dove in, he was like an endless pool and you just kept going further down.
Sherlock inspired a sort of breathlessness and as an adrenaline junkie, John
liked it.
So, John decided to set his sights on Sherlock.
Sherlock was not a virgin despite what some people seemed to think. Sherlock
obviously had intercourse before and he did not like it. But that was okay
because John wasn't going to give up. Although Sherlock did not actually know
that John was setting his sights on his flatmate but that was neither here nor
there
===============================================================================
Sherlock Holmes was very surprised at how much he seemed to admire John Watson.
John was unlike anyone he had ever met before. John seemed to think that
Sherlock could probably lasso the moon for him. John tended to look at him when
he thought the consulting detective didn't notice. Those looks usually
consisted of amazement, off and on lost, and another emotion that Sherlock
wasn't sure of. But he did know this, John Watson was attracted to him.
Sherlock had never heard of a case of an Alpha being attracted to another
Alpha. It was rather interesting if truth be told. Even though Sherlock hadn't
actually had sexual intercourse in several years, he found himself interested
in what it would be like to experience it with John.
Curiosity had been piqued. He'd seen John in the only his pants before and he
loved every moment of it. Of course he never actually said anything and simply
went on his way to his own bedroom where he proceeded to deal with his
erection, but that was neither here nor there.
After Moriarty decided to lay his hands on Sherlock's John - because to be
honest, John was definitely Sherlock's - Sherlock decided that there was no
need to withhold his interest any longer. John had certainly been interested
for the last five months and Sherlock decided that enough was enough. He was
going to proposition John Watson and John Watson was going to take him to bed
or the other way around. Either way, sex was going to be involved.
Of course John proved to see but not observe. John did not seem to notice that
Sherlock was flirting back. John did not seem to notice that Sherlock was
paying him an odd amount of attention. Nor did he seem to notice the light
caresses and the supposedly accidental bumps on the way into the bathroom. It
was almost as if Sherlock would have to spell it out for him just so he'd
understand.
Before Sherlock could make a move, Irene Adler entered the photograph. Irene
was an Beta and she was very good and what she did. Irene however was
homosexual and she had never felt attracted to a man before Sherlock was the
first. What really interested her however was his intelligence first and
foremost and then the rest of him.
It was slightly humorous to notice that Irene could tell that both Sherlock and
John had something for each other and yet neither had fully made a move yet.
The Woman - as was her stage name so to speak - decided to help in a sense. So
while they played around a bit, John was getting more and more angry and
jealous. Irene would flirt and Sherlock would sort of intellectually flirt
back. Irene would text Sherlock at all random hours of the day just to annoy
John. John had been counting how many times Sherlock's phone made the lovely
signature noise Irene had given it for when she sent him a text message. It was
hilarious to see John get all riled up over at.
But Sherlock was getting a little worried, because John was not acting on his
feelings at all no matter how many times he and Irene gave him openings. It was
as if John was completely oblivious - well yes actually John was really
oblivious to almost everything around him that wasn't dangerous - these signals
were up in his face, literally. Not even two feet from him did Sherlock and
Irene stand and flirt openly and instead of saying something about his interest
in Sherlock he merely pointed out his full name as an offer for a baby name and
while he was uncomfortable the entire time, he still did nothing about it.
What if John was the kind of person who would never act on his feelings?
Sherlock didn't like that idea because he wanted John and John was being so
damn difficult!
Once the drama with Irene was said and done with, with Sherlock secretly saving
Irene before being killed, 221B Baker Street returned to normal. Well, Sherlock
and John's version of normal, their version was much different than what normal
people would think. John was just as oblivious as ever even though Sherlock was
practically laying on him at every given moment, trying to get his intentions
across.
John was stubborn. This would require no amount of delicacy because apparently
that was just too much for John Watson to handle. So one day in early April,
Sherlock Holmes arranged for everything to stop. No cases, Mrs Hudson was
visiting her sister, Mrs. Turner had gone with her, Mycroft would not
interfere, there was milk in the fridge and beans in the cupboard, and Sherlock
was going to do his damnedest in order to seduce his flatmate and fellow Alpha,
John Watson.
By lunch, John had noticed the difference in the air. He looked at Sherlock
from across the kitchen table, which had been cleaned off in order to put him
in a better mood.
"Sherlock, are you okay?"
Sherlock took a deep breath because this was territory he had never walked into
before but he was sure going to do his best. He took a calming breath and
walked over to his flatmate and best friend.
"John, I have something I need to show you."
Sherlock grabbed John's hand and proceeded to pull him down the hallway toward
Sherlock's bedroom.
"What happened?" John asked with obvious worry.
Sherlock never answered, he simply pulled the army doctor into his bedroom and
closed the door quietly. John was standing not two feet from Sherlock's bed,
looking up at Sherlock with worry and curiosity.
With all the finesse of a swan, Sherlock attacked. His much taller and much
more lanky form latched on to John like a parasite. His mouth connected with
John's instantly as his arms wound around John's very sturdy shoulders and legs
around his hips. It may have been too sexual, but with John, the
straightforward approach had to be used because he did not get any of the other
hints that Sherlock had thrown his way. So, this was the next best thing.
Sherlock's only reply, was a throaty moan and John's very warm hands holding
Sherlock very close. They stumbled toward the bed, luckily making it on top.
Sherlock was straddling John's hips, pushing him into the pillows. John's hands
were grasping at Sherlock's curls tightly.
The hard pull from John's hands, made Sherlock moan. In revenge, the consulting
detective ground his erection over John's lap, enjoying the gasp he received
for his troubles. And John's hips were beginning to move with his… oh.
"We're Alphas, Sherlock," John managed to mumbled between kisses.
Sherlock scoffed, "Like you care. I don't either."
"But-"
"Shhh."
Sherlock cut off all possible arguments by kissing his John again and rolling
them over so that John was on top this time. With his long limbs wrapped
securely around John's hips and shoulders, Sherlock pulled his friend down,
over him.
"If we do this…" John gasped, "Who is topping?"
"Why can't both of us?"
"Have you ever…?"
"With some Omegas, yes, I know the process. You should as well." Sherlock voice
was so guttural that it made John shiver. Sherlock could feel the goose-flesh
on John's neck.
"Who goes first then?"
"It doesn't matter because anytime either of us needs this, we will only have
each other."
"That means…"
"I don't want anyone else."
John's smile was bright enough to blind Sherlock for a second. "I don't want
anyone else either, you git."
Sherlock rolled them over and had divested both of them of their clothing in
movements so quick, John had barely kept up with them. But John was not going
to lie back and let Sherlock do all of the work. He'd been longing for his
friend for ages and was going to put his mouth on every inch of alabaster skin
he came across, sucking and biting until Sherlock was a mass of red and purple
markings, all done with John's signature. The thought of the consulting
detective allowing himself to be marked by John of all people, was hot.
"Lubricant or no?" the brunet asked, already spreading John's legs.
"No, I like it rough."
"Oh John, you are perfect for me."
There wasn't much in terms of preparation. Sherlock's fingers were long and
cold, making John shiver with want. They curled inside him, causing wonderful
friction that he normally wouldn't feel had they been wet. But John had never
fancied lube and wasn't going to start on using it personally.
"Sherlock, fuck me already!"
The growl that escaped was guttural. So arousing that John barely noticed the
burn of being entered. But with both erotic things happening to him at once, he
couldn't choose which to focus on. Sherlock's maddening thrusts, having not
waited for John to adjust, or the noises the other Alpha was making.
God, being split on something so large, something that wasn't designed to
breach his body, it was fantastic! Sherlock was fantastic at everything it
seemed. And Sherlock's knot was attempting to force its way inside him, even
though they weren't in Rut.
John spread his legs further, allowing Sherlock to fully lay across him, hips
still pounding.
"John!"
"Cum, Sherlock. Give me your knot and cum," John purred before pulling the man
into him, legs wrapping around his hips to ensure that he went as deep as
physically possible, enjoying the pain that came from the knot forcing its way
inside and expanding.
Sherlock wasn't making any sense. He writhed atop John, noises and grunts
coming from him. The best thing he could do was nibble and kiss John's
collarbones, hands shaking as they traveled along the planes of John's taut
stomach and abdomen. His mouth latched over John's pulse point, marking him as
Sherlock's.
John was carefully stroking himself, awaiting his own turn. He whispered filthy
words into Sherlock's ear and encouraged the little thrusts the detective
couldn't stop himself from giving.
All too soon, it was over, in a sense that Sherlock removed himself, laying
down beside John and situating himself on his hands and knees. "I prefer… to be
taken… this way." He was breathless.
John's eyes dilated and he retrieved the lube from the bedside table, knowing
that Sherlock wasn't like him and knowing that he'd probably not like it rough
as John did.
During prep, Sherlock looked back and added, "And you better mark me. I don't
want anyone else."
John surprisingly lost cognizance after that.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Smauglock *****
Chapter Summary
     KINKY-FUCKERY!
Chapter Notes
     Dragon sex. Dragon/Human person with a Hobbit kind of sex.
     This took so long because I've never written Smaugbo before so it
     took some time and characterization and the sex had to be just right.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
He'd been alive for several millennia. Too many to count, but he'd been born in
the Third Age before the year of 2550 at least. So suffice it to say, he was
old.
Sherlock - once the great and powerful Smaug, the Tyrannical, one of the most
powerful Urulóki of the North and the only remaining one in the world - had
found him.
His Thief!
Though objectively he knew that the man did not recognize him - for he was a
simple reincarnation of the Thief - but it was still him. And Sherlock, who had
been looking for a flatmate but had declined all people he'd met previously,
had latched onto this person who looked like the barrel-rider.
And with few words and a small wink, he'd left the man intrigued.
Who knew that this man who end up saving his life. Though in truth, Sherlock
had planned to kill the cabbie as he wasn't of great import to anyone. But it
was the thought of his Thief killing for him, that had impressed him.
Unknowingly, this human version of his Hobbit Thief had initiated the first
steps of a courtship and Sherlock would be foolish if he didn't accept the
offer. But he wasn't going to make it easy for his army doctor. No, the man
would fully prove himself where so many others had failed. Sherlock wasn't
lying when he said he was married to his Work. Perhaps in time, the little man
would become just as important if not more so.
===============================================================================
He did it. Somehow a human managed what none other had.
Things had been fine. Sherlock's interest was even caught by a game proposed to
him by this great Moriarty. Someone of equal mind. Everything had run smoothly
until he laid hands on Sherlock's Thief.
And just when things grew hard, John did something amazing. He snapped
Moriarty's neck with ease, demonstrating that he could protect Sherlock to the
fullest extent.
In a split decision, Sherlock took the sniper bullet aimed for John while he
knocked John unconscious and with controlled movements, he scooped his Thief
into his arms and unleashed the flames that had been itching to come out
recently. Hotter than even magma, Sherlock's inborn ability destroyed his
surroundings as his hidden wings tore through his suit coat in order to wrap
around his little Thief in order to protect him from the harm of the flames.
He left the building, the screams of the burning sniper like music to is ears.
Back at the flat, Sherlock set John down on the sofa and proceeded to force the
bullet from his shoulder, allowing his magic to heal his minor injury.
All the while, he stared at his Thief. John had saved his life several times,
but this just seemed most important. John went hunting for them - shopping
actually, but John was the source of food in the flat - and prepared his catch.
It had been a year and yet John had stayed when none other had made it past a
month. He liked Sherlock and considered him a 'friend'. He enjoyed Sherlock's
line of Work and didn't question his experiments anymore.
In truth, Sherlock was very impressed with his Thief turned army doctor.
And the courtship rituals for John's side had been completed.
Fight and defend.
Provide for.
Care for.
Loyalty till death.
It was time for Sherlock to return this courtship, as all dragons did with they
would be mate. And should John accept it, then Sherlock knew what would occur
and he couldn't wait.
===============================================================================
John slept deeply, which was shocking since he had been in the army, but he had
no problem waking at the first sign of trouble. He also woke religiously at
five every morning, a habit ingrained after almost ten years in the service.
Sherlock stretched himself out beside John's resting frame, taking up the rest
of the space of the bed. He then focused his magic on John, penetrating his
mind as he slept and filling him with dreams of Sherlock in his true form.
Showing him their past together and how it could have gone had Sherlock not
been so presumptuous.
The Lonely Mountain, where lay his second largest hoard. Smaug resided deep
within the coins, listening for the creature that dared to enter his mountain
and filch from him.
One little movement and a scattering of coins revealed his figure to the
creature that smelled of nothing Smaug had scented before. Smaug's great,
golden eyes opened, fixing on the direction of the sounds and scent coming from
this creature. This Thief.
With little effort, he lifted himself from the bed of coins, shedding the gold
as if it were a river of water.
His senses tingled with awareness. Something powerful in the air, something
that was Dark and twisted and all manner of corrupt. He recognized it, knew it
for what it was. This creature had come across the One Ring.
While Smaug did not know the extent of its abilities, he could surmise that
invisibility was one, as he could hear and smell this Thief, but could not see
him. He even felt the heat radiating of its frame.
He stated so to the open cavern, hoping to frighten the creature into
compliance. It fled, not exactly what he had in mind, but he gave chase,
delighting in the terror in its scent and the fact that it even thought it
could get away from Smaug. Foolish little Thief.
He followed easily, goading it, trapping it. Using his magic to empower his
speech and force it to reveal itself.
It was male, he was certain of it. Smaller than even a Dwarf, though it reeked
of those mongrels. There was an innocence about its expression that seemed to
come naturally and was only enhanced as flattery worthy of the most talented
swindler fell from it's small lips. It played a good game, for a Thief. For
prey.
It spoke in riddles and refrained from giving its real name when asked. A smart
little Thief, this 'Underhill'. Smaug was vaguely impressed with the creature.
Smaug's gargantuan frame undulated slightly and the fire-drake noted the
creature's eyes trailing the movement with barely hidden amazement, before
focusing on their conversation. All the while, Smaug easily deduced just what
the Thief was there for and who he was with.
But the small creature denies any involvement with the castaway prince of the
Dwarves nor any real connection to the men of Laketown.
Smaug picks up on the small creature's murmured, 'You're beautiful'. His great
head tilts with interest.
He hadn't mated in a long time. Hadn't been near others to even attempt it. And
the last being he even touched was a she-elf who saw him through his last Heat.
He'd staved off his most recent Heat because he did not feel like moving from
his hoard in order to satiate bodily hungers. That went for consumption of meat
as well.
But perhaps, this little Thief could satisfy him.
With a wicked grin, Smaug posed the question, "And what would you do with this
beauty should it be within your grasp?"
The creature's scent became musky, its face deepening from a light pink to a
dark red. "I-I-"
Smaug saved it the trouble, choosing to approach the creature from a more
manageable standpoint. His smaller form wasn't that of a man, more of an elf.
Tall and lean, though muscular through and through. Beautiful enough to draw in
his prey. His eyes were golden, like in his true form. His hair a mess of black
curls, framing his head perfectly. His skin fading between pale cream and fiery
red, with scales. He had smaller wings that protruded from his back in great
fiery arcs. His fingers crowned with sharp claws, his ears shaped into devilish
points. His tail was long, red, and ended in a sharp point.
'Underhill' flushed, blue eyes blowing incredibly wide, darkened by the pupils.
"Well, Thief?"
There was nothing. No sound other than its rapidly beating heart.
Smaug smirked, allowing himself to approach the stunned creature at a pace that
was easy to follow and gave it ample opportunity to flee, though it would never
fully be free of Smaug now that the great drake was interested.
It did not move though. Instead, Smaug was able to crowd it against the pillar
it was leaning against. Once closer he was able to determine the size of the
creature. Smaller than a Dwarf for at least half a foot or a little more.
Wide, blue eyes gazed up at him as a delicate flush wound up the column of its
neck, covering its cheeks in a small, attractive dusting of pink.
Smaug leaned over the creature that only came up to his waist. "What say you,
little Thief?"
"I am not a thief!"
"Why else would you come here, to me? Unless, you plan to offer yourself,
perhaps?" the great drake teased, his prehensile tail coming around and teasing
at the creature's clothing, pulling at the blue coat. Revealing the clothing
beneath it.
"O-offer?" the creature stuttered, looking horrified and intrigued all at once.
Smaug tore the garment in two, allowing the pieces to fall to the gold pile the
creature stood upon. "You have lain with another, correct?"
"But you're-"
"I am. And I have decided to take you, barrel-rider."
Smaug turned away, allowing his tail to wrap around the small being and lift
him up. Time to build a nest.
He was meticulous, gather various jewels and garments he'd collected over the
years, his favorites, pushing what he wanted into a small area in a far corner
of the room where he dug and dug until he stood in a large hole, surrounded by
gold. His quarry would not be able to escape without aid. Placing his chosen
objects down, Smaug arranged a comforting bed before laying his prize atop the
cloth covered jewels. The other jewels and coins within reach.
Yes, it looked good surrounded by Smaug's wealth.
"What are you going to do to me?" the little thing squeaked, flushing a lovely
shade of pink.
"Showing you what you want. You've always wanted this, haven't you?"
Smaug was coaxing. In this dream for his John where he would make John remember
himself. Where he would finally have the name of his Thief. John wanted
Sherlock. Sherlock wanted John. What better way to bring John to terms with his
attraction than to give him the best of dreams?
"I-I don't know what you're-"
Sherlock descended, pinning the Hobbit to the gold, hearing a small squeak in
the process. His claws ran down the creature's chest, tearing away the
clothing. Any feeble attempts to preserve his modesty were thwarted by Smaug's
insistent hands and mouth.
"You want me, little Thief. Admit it and you may have what you desire."
Smaug deftly removed the trousers, leaving his Hobbit bare to his gaze. He
ignored the shock, focusing instead on the delight of his Thief showing arousal
for him… willingly.
John always hid his attraction and didn't want to think about his Bisexuality.
Sherlock was not about to let this slip away from him. He would have John
Watson, his former Thief.
Red tinged hands clawed at the Hobbit's clothing, stripping him article by
article until he was bare. The creature made no movement to stop him. It's face
had become flushed and it's body heated with desire that Smaug was deliberately
instilling within it.
Fangs hung over his sculpted lips, gleaming slightly in the darkness of the
cavern. Smaug pulled his Thief down to the gold, covering his small frame in
heat and strength, all positive things in potential mates.
"I will take you, Thief. I will take you and breed you. Mate you, mark you,
there will be doubt that you are mine."
His Hobbit moaned, body arching into Smaug's searching mouth.
"Wanton little Thief."
"S-smaug!" the Hobbit gasped when fangs sank into its shoulder.
The first marking was complete. The marking of intent. The second marking would
be to cover the Hobbit's body in his seed, allowing it to soak into his skin
and bathe him in Smaug's scent… forever.
The little body writhed as Smaug's clawed fingers trailed down it, memorizing
each subtle curve and each small pouch of skin that he knew should be bigger.
His mate-to-be was well off. Well fed on a constant basis, used to comfortable
lifestyle. This journey had thinned him out. He was not eating as he should
have been.
Unacceptable.
Smaug will hunt for his Thief. Hunt for him and fatten him up with nourishing
food. Alongside the young that would soon be growing within him.
Smaug's clutch will be need nutrients. Plenty of meat for his Thief and them.
A clutch laid by those not of drake kind were always born in small sacs. Much
like horses. Any other being would be unable to bear eggs and their bodies
morphed to better accommodate the life giving seed of their dragon lovers.
Smaug purred against his Hobbit's brown curls. The scent of sunshine clung to
the wispy strands. Smaug hadn't seen the sunshine in years. It was … pleasant.
Smaug turned the small form over, shifting it into its hands and knees and
spread the small legs apart to reveal what he desired. This… this was what he
wanted from his Thief. Leaning over the small frame, his long, serpentine
tongue slipped form between his lips, laving over the exposed hole of his
Thief.
The Hobbit shivered, moaning. Hips trying to move away, but Smaug held them
steady. His tongue slowly penetrated the ring of muscle, feeling it clench
around him in an attempt to stop his advancement. But Smaug merely hummed,
allowing the vibrations to stir his Thief's arousal higher, hotter. The muscles
relaxed and Smaug's tongue plunged deeper, undulating repeatedly in order to
loosen his Hobbit up for him.
He was in his most human form. The smallest he could manage magically. And
still he was rather large. His Thief was smaller than even a Dwarf and to take
him fully would be a strain on his body, but Smaug knew that proper preparation
could make it possible. That and his magic.
His tongue slipped away before thrusting in again, slowly opening his Thief up
for him, readying him for the main course.
Little whimpers of pleasure and slight pain filled the vast cavern of the hall
of Smaug's riches. His Hobbit's hands reaching out to grasp the gold easily
within reach, fingers tightening around the coins as if they provided stability
to the maddening ministrations of Smaug's tongue.
Smaug pulled away, he enjoyed the distressed whine and the fact that his Hobbit
now pushed back to meet him. Now it was time to have him. Now it was time to
indulge and have his Thief relinquish himself to the carnal pleasures of the
flesh. The pleasures in which Smaug was so eloquently knowledgeable of.
His Hobbit was hot to the touch, but his insides were scalding. Enough that
even Smaug - a fire-drake of ultimate renown - could feel the intense burning
within the small creature. It was alluring, captivating, and it made his blood
burn for the Thief.
His mate-to-be took to Smaug's shaft slowly, stretching around the red tinted
flesh, the thickness forcing the ring of muscle apart slowly. His Hobbit
moaned, arms giving away and his torso falling to the pelts Smaug had placed
upon the gold to comfort him.
Smaug took his time, carefully running his warm hands along his Thief's body,
calming him. Instilling gentle thoughts into his mind. So that when he thought
of Smaug, he could only remember kindness and pleasure.
He had to retreat several times, in order to properly seat himself inside, but
once he was there, he sighed in relief. The Thief took him all the way, Smaug's
magic expanding his small body to better fit his girth.
"Do you want this, little Thief?"
A gasp and a whimper were all he received. This creature was overwhelmed in
Smaug. Smaug had caged him in, hands positioned near its head, body pressed
along its own, practically draped over it like a second skin.
He was merciful. He wouldn't taunt the poor thing until it had grown used to
being within Smaug's arms. Until riding Smaug was nothing new to it.
With sure movements, Smaug owned his Thief. He did not rut as if his Hobbit was
some random being and Smaug was some animal, he was gentle. The slow slide of
his length was enough for both of them. Torturous and yet just what they both
needed. The Hobbit moved against him slowly, hips grinding just a bit. He was
becoming bolder, taking more liberties.
"Tell me, Thief. Is this enough?"
"Nnnn!"
"Come now… you could manage a simple 'yes' couldn't you?"
"Y-yes!"
Smaug's hips gave a sharp thrust, bringing a shout of shock from his Thief.
"Good little Thief," the drake praised.
"Please!"
"What do you need?"
"I-I-"
Smaug tsked, giving another sharp thrust.
"More!"
"That's it, little Thief. Allow your dragon to provide you with what you
desire."
Smaug's purring voice rang throughout the room, reverberating in his own ears.
Lustful, longing.
So close.
The heat coiled like a serpent, twisting and winding within his body. His tail
reached around his Hobbit, wrapping around his own leaking arousal.
"Nnnnn!"
Sweat poured from his Hobbit, the heat building between both of them.
"Tell me your name, Thief," the dragon ordered, thrusts coming faster now.
"I-I d-d-"
"You know it," the fire drake insisted. "Tell me and you shall have release."
Sharp breaths graced his ears. Smaug's tail squeezed and his Hobbit arched back
against him, screaming, "BILBO!"
Smaug's fang latched into Bilbo's neck, his desire exploding within his mate.
Once he sufficiently coated the inside, Smaug pulled away, covering his Thief's
back in his seed, enjoying his scent sinking into Bilbo's flesh.
He licked the mating mark, nuzzling against it happily. "Mine."
Sherlock snapped awake, noting that he was practically clinging to John, who
was watching him with hooded eyes and a flushed face.
"You," the human murmured, reaching out to grasp his curls in a tight fist.
"You and I knew each other."
"Of course."
"And you wanted me."
"Want," Sherlock clarified. "I want you, now and forever. You
are mine. My Hobbit. My Thief. My John. My doctor. My friend. My mate."
John's head tilted, before it slowly began to nod. "I-I had been intrigued by
you."
Sherlock grinned. Of course he was!
"I had lived a good life. How did you live? You sank into the lake!"
Sherlock rolled over, straddling his mate.
"That is a story for another day. Now, as I had only managed to make you mine
in our dreams, we must rectify this happening in reality."
John flushed deeper, but nodded.
"Sherlock… Smaug, I think I love you."
"John… Bilbo, obviously."
Sherlock leaned down, kissing him harshly. "And for the record, I think I love
you as well."
===============================================================================
_A/N:_First_is_done!_
_How_was_it?_Let_me_know._
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See_ya!_:D
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it? Please let me know because I started this chapter well
     over a month ago but had trouble finishing it until this morning
     because it was so much work.
***** Couturierlock *****
Chapter Summary
     Sherlock is a tailor.
Chapter Notes
     John wasn't ready!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
_A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!_
_I_don't_own_Sherlock._
_I_have_no_beta._
_ENJOY!_
    _CHECK_ME_OUT_ON_TUMBLR._HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON._I_FOLLOW_BACK._
===============================================================================
John didn't know what to do when his friends kidnapped him and forced him to
get a suit. The most basic information they could give him though. Simply that
he had to go into a certain shop and get a bespoke suit for himself. They were
paying for it as a birthday gift.
John did not need a suit, but his friends were insistent and said something
about the man making the suits that caught his interest. So, John resigned
himself to walking into the small shop, eyeing the fanciful suit coats and
waistcoats warily.
Not even ten seconds into the shop and he was faced with a tall brunet, with a
mop of unruly, black curls that stood in all directions. John would at the very
least reach his chin. His eyes were a bright shade of blue/green, skin pale,
with cheekbones that could cut diamonds.
He could understand why his friends wanted him to come here, knowing his
preferences. He'd have to do something nice for them later on.
"You were in the military."
He snapped back to attention, seeing the gorgeous specimen standing over him a
little close for comfort. His voice was extremely deep.
"Hmm… yes. You were a Major and you've been honorably discharged recently. You
have a good frame, nice shoulders. Come!"
John was dragged further into the shop, the man's cold, long fingers wrapped
around John's extremely tanned wrist. The contrast was startling and nice all
at once.
He was shoved onto a small stool where the man in question began divesting him
of his jumper and collard shirt, leaving him in only a crisp, white tee. A tape
measure was already making its way around his body before he could fully
process what was going on.
The man hummed a few times, but never took any notes.
John questioned him about that and learned that this man was a genius and
didn't need to write things down to remember them.
"You have good proportions," commented the man.
"Uh… thanks."
The man was stood in front of him now, looking down a bit. "Yes… incredible
proportions, I'd say."
John got it immediately and flushed at the audacity.
"You like Thai, correct?"
"What?"
"I know a good Thai restaurant down the street who let me eat for free. My
lunch is in a few moments and I am taking you."
"But I-"
The man leaned into John, eyes level now that they were on even footing so to
speak.
"I have a fetish for army men. Will you indulge me, Major?"
John swallowed nervously, but gave a small nod.
"Fantastic. Now get dressed and we'll discuss your suit and the colors that
accentuate your figure."
And that was that. John had been brought there with the intent of hooking up
with the man and apparently the man had taken it all into his own hands.
And the look he was getting made him hot under the collar.
"Conveniently, my flat is a few blocks over as well, so we should be busy well
into the evening, doctor."
Oh God.
===============================================================================
_A/N:_First_is_done!_
_How_was_it?_Let_me_know._
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See_ya!_:D
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Potterlock *****
Chapter Summary
     I WROTE CENTAUR/HUMAN SEX. LIKE, AS IN SEX. WITH INSERTION AND
     FUCKING AND STRAIGHT UP P0RN!
     Sherlock is a magizoologist/wizard who is currently studying
     Centaurs.
Chapter Notes
     This was for fellow Tumblr, sherlock-and-john-getting-in-on. She
     likes it when John is in charge and I mean like he makes the rules.
     She pointed out that I tend to have Sherlock as the Dom or Top in the
     relationships which I hadn't noticed and asked if I could possibly do
     one where John is in charge and not just from topping from the
     bottom. But like, being over Sherlock and fucking him and stuff. My
     eloquence astounds even myself sometimes. ;)
See the end of the chapter for more notes
_A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!_
_I_don't_own_Sherlock._
_I_have_no_beta._
_ENJOY!_
    _CHECK_ME_OUT_ON_TUMBLR._HELLY-WATERMELONSMELLINFELLON._I_FOLLOW_BACK._
===============================================================================
Sherlock was a Magizoologist who took his work very seriously. He knew things
about magical creatures. He'd made discoveries no other Magizoologists had
because he didn't reduce himself to just magical study. He used Muggle means as
well.
Sherlock's most current case, was on Centaurs. Most people knew they could see
the future. Most people knew that they were averse to humans.
Beyond those little bits of information, not much else was known. But Sherlock
wanted to be the one to discover new information about them. Mating habits,
eating habits, living habits. Everything. How their bodies decomposed. How
their bodies reacted to particular plants and potions.
Sherlock may have been a wizard, but he was a scientist first and foremost. He
wanted to know everything. Dissect everything.
Sherlock wasn't so foolish as to assume that he'd just find a Centaur. They
lived in particular regions. Also, most likely any of them would see him coming
and see what his motives were. That would make his studying extremely
difficult.
But he wasn't going to give up.
Perhaps he'd even find one that wanted to help him with some information.
Months of looking. Of hunting down herd after herd, Sherlock had been turned
away, arrows pointed between his eyes should he not flee. Now he may have been
a good wizard, but when one is surrounded by several beings larger and
physically stronger than they are, they do now stick around.
It was a tactical retreat.
So he was sat by a small stream, attempting to make out his next plan. Four
herds in Scotland. Perhaps his search would be best taken out in Wales?
"The stars foretold of your journey."
Sherlock jerked upward, wand drawn in nanoseconds. Someone had sneaked up
behind him and he had never heard them! That had never happened before! He
whirled around to face this threat, coming face to abdomen with a lone Centaur,
who was standing much closer to Sherlock than any others had dared to.
"They also told of how I would be the one to aid you," continued the Centaur.
A strong but gentle hand came and lowered Sherlock's wand for him. The Centaur
wasn't the largest he'd seen, but was certainly muscular. His hair was like a
field of wheat, wind swept over his shoulders. His eyes like water in the
Caribbean. There was a small dusting of hair across his pectorals. His body was
thick and proportionate.
He looked gentle, despite the obvious danger lingering around him.
"Come, friend-Sherlock. I have found us lodgings in a cave nearby."
"Who are you?" Sherlock asked the retreating figure.
"You may call me… John. My real name is much too difficult for human tongues to
pronounce."
===============================================================================
'John' had indeed found a nice little cave in which Sherlock was able to modify
to better suit his tastes. It fit his magical tent perfectly and added extra
protection against the elements and creatures.
'John' made very little attempts at speaking with him, though Sherlock did not
hold back on his questioning. Why was he helping Sherlock? Where was his herd?
Didn't Centaurs usually despise humans?
1. The stars foretold your arrival and that I was to aid you.
2. I hold no ill will toward humanity and have been cast away by my brethren.
3. Not all Centaurs are close-minded.
And so Sherlock contemplated the being that rested on the other side of the
cave. Though Sherlock had never really shown interest in anyone before, he had
to admit that John's human half was extremely attractive. And he didn't insult
Sherlock for wanting to know more about other creatures. Wizards didn't
understand a scientist's desire for knowledge. To know how things worked.
He flushed at his line of thought and looked away. Things like that weren't
possible.
John left a few moments later, returning within the hour, holding a large, dead
stag.
"This creature shall provide sustenance for you."
Sherlock actually knew how to tend to venison. But he wondered how John knew he
liked it, when he decided to eat that is.
"The planets and stars tell much about you, Sherlock Holmes. More than even you
can imagine. Possible futures are lined up for you and the one you will embark
upon will be partially determined here and now. Make your decision."
Sherlock sputtered, "But I don't even know what I'm deciding or what I'm
supposed to be doing!"
John smiled calmly. "When the moment is right, you shall know."
And so Sherlock sat there for hours, trying to reason out everything. He was a
genius, he should be able to figure out what he was supposed to do. Of course
well into the night - after the dark had fallen and the stars had finally
visibly joined them - Sherlock felt hunger grip him tightly, demanding to be
satiated.
He hated eating when his mind was working. It interrupted his thought process.
There was work to be done.
But John had apparently heard him and had set to skinning the deer. Sherlock's
mind barely processed this as it was whirling through all he knew about
prophecy and Centaurs. But an hour later, he did accept the cooked meat John
had offered to him, eating it as if in a daze.
Unknowingly, Sherlock had just made his decision.
===============================================================================
John smiled. Rarely did he ever come across someone who just wanted to learn.
Though Sherlock's curiosity did land him in trouble occasionally, he wasn't the
kind to give up. And the best part, was that his experiments were only ever
done on deceased subjects. Sherlock didn't like to kill.
When John had received the vision of his future, which would be entwined with
Sherlock's, he'd been skeptical. And continuous reviewing of the stars had
shown that his future would lead to Sherlock Holmes and that from there, they'd
always be together. But multiple avenues had opened up at that. Friends,
enemies, lovers, mates even.
As a wizard, Sherlock was capable of bearing, that John knew. But for them to
even take their relationship in such a direction seemed almost impossible.
Until he met the man.
He was cautious, but did not view John as some kind of monster or 'thing' that
needed to be regulated. He had questions. Opinions. He wanted to know all he
could. He called John by his chosen name and when John had perused the wizard's
notes, he hadn't found one word referencing to him and an 'it'.
And Sherlock had chosen to eat the food John had provided, setting them toward
three courses. Lovers, friends, or mates. Lovers would simply be sexual
fulfillment. Friends would be close confidants. Mates would be a pairing to
last until the end of John's days. A pairing comprised of the former two
courses. A mate was a friend and a lover.
And from that day forth, Sherlock and John lived peacefully. Sherlock got to
observe John's hunting. John observed Sherlock's own hunting. Sherlock sketched
the Centaur, always had odd questions.
Did Centaurs have allergies?
Were they susceptible to inebriation like House Elves were thanks to
Butterbeer?
How did he keep his tail hair so well taken care of if his arms couldn't reach?
Had he ever wanted to be all human or all horse or neither?
Did Centaurs have celebrations for coming of age?
There was never a dull moment in the presence of Sherlock Holmes.
And after the first few months, Sherlock's journals began to reflect his
feelings about John. The words, 'my friend' slipped in every now and again and
John felt warmed by them. To know that there were wizards out there who could
accept creatures for who they were without trying to control them.
"How do Centaurs mate?"
It was to come eventually, but John had not expected it to suddenly change the
course of their friendship. They were now set on the paths to either lovers or
mates. A fork in the road hovered before them and John's response would
determine which they should travel down. Of course similar outcomes were
apparent, but he would have to decide.
He was an outcast. He had no herd or family. Sherlock was his friend. Sherlock
didn't really have anyone either.
They could be happy. Human/Centaur couplings weren't as uncommon as some
thought.
"What do you wish to know?"
Sherlock, who was sitting in their cave drawing John from a frontal view,
looked up with his cheeks flushed.
"I know how horses mate, I was curious as a child. But do Centaurs to it
differently, especially with your biology being a little different? Do you
embrace as some humans do or do you have different positions?"
It was rare to see embarrassment in Sherlock's disposition, but attractive all
the same. John smiled.
"Would you wish to witness a mating first hand?"
"H-How woul-"
"I would be most gentle."
And Sherlock's entire body froze, his incredible mind working to interpret
John's words. John's extremely suggestive words.
His mouth dropped open, "You would- with me- you can do that?!"
"There have been matings between our species."
"How?"
"Would you like to see?"
Sherlock flushed, "You'd really want… with me?"
John frowned. Rarely did Sherlock ever take on such a self-deprecating tone.
Only when he spoke of lack of interest in others their lack of interest in him.
People generally didn't like Sherlock all too much, for whatever reason.
"Of course I would, you are important to me, Sherlock."
Sherlock did not answer. He was staring at his journal, at the unfinished
sketch. "Objectively I know how things like these work," he finally said. "But
as I've never… with anyone… will it hurt?"
"First times are always painful in the beginning. As your body would undergo
something it is not used to, you would be sore after the first time."
Sherlock sighed, "It's not as if I'm a stranger to pain. Science often requires
test subjects and so many do not want to be the subjects I'm testing so I must
resort to myself often enough. Will I… be able to handle it? I assume you're
much large than an average human male."
"Indeed," grinned John. "But you forget that we are magic. All magical humans
possess the ability to bear, whether they are powerful enough to keep the foal
is another story. And your body would create extra space within you as it would
for a womb."
Sherlock had flipped to a new page of his journal, already writing. "Would this
be considered bestiality? You aren't exactly a beast despite half of your body
resembling one. You have a level of cognizance than animals and beasts do not
possess. You speak and can articulate your thought process. As I am a
Magizoologist and Centaurs are labeled as sentient - and according to Britain's
Magical Ministry that means possessing human intelligence - but also as Beasts
- and the definition of Beast by the Ministry of Magical Britain is a 'magical
creature that does not have sufficient intelligence to understand the laws of
the magical community nor bear part of the responsibility in shaping those
laws' - I am really at a loss as to what to label this as. It could be
zoophilia?"
John smiled calmly. "Couplings between humans and magical creatures aren't
unheard of. Vampires and Werewolves have created offspring with humans. Giants
and Trolls have as well. Even Merfolk and Hags. None of these pairings are see
as wrong. And you mustn't judge upon what non-magicals seem to believe. You are
a wizard and therefore your very being goes against their beliefs."
"True."
They remained in silence even as Sherlock wrote his thoughts down.
"So then, how would you mount me? Assuming that is what you would do. Your
sexual organs are further behind you so this would be difficult between us as I
am not a Centaur.
Do Centaurs have male/male pairings?"
"Yes," John answered, already shifting to his legs.
"Come, I should think you would much prefer this to be done in comfort," said
John, opening Sherlock's expanded tent and waiting for the Magizoologist to
enter first.
Sherlock went, but not without more questions. "So do you seduce your mates? Is
sexual gratification something you can experience? Can you-"
John cut him off by doing something he'd wanted to try. A human custom that
wasn't common among Centaurs. He kissed Sherlock.
The wizard allowed him the pleasure and kissed back carefully, hesitantly. They
pulled apart, Sherlock looking deliciously flustered and John feeling pleased
with himself.
"I- I quite liked that," admitted the wizard.
So John did so again.
It was slow and carefully and as Sherlock was shorter in stature, John had to
bend over him just slightly to reach, but it was worth it. Sherlock was warm,
his body molding into John's own, drawing nearer.
"How are we-"
"Lay," ordered the Centaur, already beginning to hum.
Light magic in the face of their mating. Calming and readying. Centaurs usually
had heat cycles. Female emitted scents and particular fluids to signify their
readiness. Males went into a needy state for days at a time. But as his Heat
was nowhere near, then magic would have to be used in order to properly prepare
for a mating.
Magic had many uses in inter-species mating. Sherlock's body would need to
accommodate John somehow and magic would be what did so. Of course John's
length and girth would better aid the possibility of pregnancy. Should Sherlock
so desire it.
"Would you wish for a foal?"
Sherlock, who had stripped himself of his garments, looked up. "How long would
a pregnancy be?"
"You are human, it would take eleven months. Two more than a normal Centaur
pregnancy."
"And you would help?"
"Of course!"
"The knowledge," Sherlock murmured, already glowing with excitement. "Yes."
"Enlarge your 'bed', you will need it for comfort."
With a barely concentrate flick of his wand, Sherlock raised the bed's height
by a few feet, before clambering into it.
"What now?"
"On your hands and knees, I shall prepare you."
"What will I be doing?"
"Enjoying."
Sherlock flushed, but allowed himself to be turned over, his nude frame
brushing against the delicate satin of his bed coverings. He was about to have
sex… with John. A Centaur. A Centaur with a horse sized cock.
Oh dear.
John's singing grew louder and the words of his native tongue began meshing
together. His fingers brushed against Sherlock's entrance, spreading the ring
of muscle apart in order to help loosen him. Sherlock moaned slightly, unused
to the intrusion or basically anything touching him there.
He was being spread open on John's fingers. First one and then another and
another. Three fingers and some kind of liquid that did not come form his own
body, entered him. And then there were four fingers inside of him, turning
every which way, brushing against his inner walls and against something that
felt vaguely good, but not enough pressure to get the full experience.
Sherlock pushed against John's hand, which was sliding in deeper and deeper.
The knuckle of his thumb caught outside the ring, John's hand turning back and
forth until it passed the tight muscle, allowing Sherlock to feel John making a
fist inside him.
He wasn't physically big enough to handle something like that. John must have
been using a lot of magic if he could fit his whole fist and wrist inside
Sherlock's passage.
The fist pushed in deeper.
Sherlock knew the biology of magical humans. Males had two 'pipes' for lack of
a better word. Like the esophagus. Both led to two different body parts. The
magical equivalent of a womb and the intestines. There was a small flap, like
the epiglottis in the throat, that closed off one when the other was in use.
And Sherlock knew exactly where John's hand was going. And oh, he'd never
thought something that large could fit up there.
It pulled away as John murmured, "You are ready."
Sherlock was empty in a way he had never been before. Being so open and full
and then… not. It was horrible. He whined, demanding to be filled again.
And John filled him in a way that his fist hadn't.
John caged his body into the bed, basically hovering over Sherlock as he fucked
into the wizard with ease. It was a stretch bigger than the fist, which had
impressed him because John had large hands. It also burned slightly from him
being unprepared for it, but not as much as he thought it would. No, the pain
would not come from this part, the pain would be from overuse of muscles he'd
never used before. But it felt so good and he couldn't help but moan for more.
John took him carefully and brutally, his thrusts changing pace often. Sherlock
was repeatedly assaulted by a wonderful sensation, something inside of him
being slammed into with strong force.
His first orgasm hit him hard, coiling in his abdomen, his poor cock brushing
against the satin roughly. His body tightened impossibly around John's girth
and he came with a loud scream.
John soothed him, hands reaching down to card though Sherlock's messy curls.
His body had never stopped moving however, still kneeling over Sherlock's own
body, thrusting into him.
Sherlock experienced two more life-shattering orgasms before John had finally
reached completion. Sherlock could no longer hold himself up and was basically
laying there as John went deeper than any other time, like he'd pushed past
something new. And then exploded in a sense that his own release was filling
Sherlock's body and as he slowly pulled out, it filled the vacancy that John
left behind, leaving Sherlock warm and sated.
He'd have to remember this for his journal, because he was too tired to move.
John stepped away, coming around the side of the bed to kneel down to take
Sherlock's face in his hands.
"You did well, dear Sherlock."
"I… did… nothing," gasped the Magizoologist, tired and weak.
John was smiling however, one hand trailing down Sherlock's sated flesh in
order to sooth muscles aches. "Dear one, you have done more than you know."
With a lingering kiss, Sherlock was lulled into sleep by a warm voice and two
warm hands that were intent on taking away any of his discomfort.
And as Sherlock fell under, he couldn't help but feel content in that moment.
Perhaps this had changed the parameters of their relationship.
Unknown to him, John's thoughts mirrored his almost exactly. Except with an
extra bit of information.
Sherlock's decision to accept John's child had set into motion their future as
mates.
John couldn't be happier.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Princelock *****
Chapter Summary
     Prince Sherlock is snarky.
Chapter Notes
     Fluff!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
"You said that I could choose anyone I desired. You should have worded your
boon better if you didn't want me to acknowledge everyone in the kingdom,
Mycroft."
Mycroft, his older brother and King of Antoila, sighed. "Sherlock, you know
very well that I only meant from the list I had given you."
"Obviously," snarked the young prince. "But as you specifically said in a room
full of witnesses that I may choose 'whomever I so desire' to marry, I
obviously used the large loophole you missed, in my favor. If I am to marry it
will not be to some woman, first and foremost, nor will I wed some foolish
boy."
He loved riling his brother up and now that Mycroft had made the offer, he
could not take it back for fear of looking like an untrustworthy buffoon.
Sherlock won that round.
So it was the next day, that Sherlock dressed down, covering his black curls
with a blond wig and walking among the populace of their kingdom. The
cobblestoned roads were a welcome sight. The quaint little villages dispersed
here and there around the large, bustling inner city that was filled with the
most modern buildings in their small country. Electricity was not everywhere,
but there were still far from being in the Dark Ages.
The homes were made of red bricks, their fields full of healthy crops. The
people were cheerful as they greeted each other and while Sherlock generally
didn't like people because they would posture before him, it was nice to being
among those who did not know who he was. Where they were natural.
Sherlock had to marry within the next year and through his own genius, he got
to choose just whom he would be with. His plan was simple, covertly stalk
people until he found the one who simply stood to the most, in his mind at
least.
Antoila was bustling with people. Peddlers and farmers and stable boys rushing
through the streets. People selling their wares. It was… nice. Nice to enjoy
when no one knew who he was.
A little girl bumped into him from the side and a small crash was heard. He
looked down to see a head of blonde curls, bent over pieces of pink glass on
the ground. She stood up, blue eyes watering already.
Feeling a little bad - for some unknown reason - Sherlock knelt down and
offered, "How about I get you another one?"
Her countenance brightened instantly. "Thank you!"
Sherlock had to wonder, as the little girl dragged him throughout the packed
streets, just why he cared at all about whether her glass figurine had broken
or not. Perhaps he was ill?
The building she stopped at was small, but inside it seemed larger. There were
wooden tables all over and were covered in all manner of beautiful, glass
ornaments. Some were hanging above their heads from the rafters from the
ceiling.
"John!" the little girl called out.
Sherlock's interest zeroed in on the blond man who came from the back of the
small shop. He was muscular, a bit short, but not overly so. His hair was like
corn silk and it was perfectly parted from the side of his head. He was also
smiling at the little girl who was beaming at him.
"Zinnia," John greeted.
Sherlock cleared his throat, gaining this man's attention. "The young lady and
I had a bit of an accident and her figurine suffered in the aftermath. She
would like a new one," Sherlock explained, pulling out his wallet which had his
never ending supply of monetary need.
John frowned, "You don't need to-"
"I would assume that these take time to create and I wouldn't wish to leave you
bereft."
"Uh… okay."
Little Zinnia ended up picking a large, golden, glass flower with a dark green
stem and pink stamen. Sherlock paid and she pecked his cheek before leaving.
Sherlock was left wondering how John managed to create all those little, yet
extremely detailed, objects.
"That was kind of you, you know."
The prince in disguise looked over. "Hm?"
John was smiling warmly, "It was nice of you to help her out. I know she was at
fault, she tends to be a little rambunctious and doesn't watch where she's
going. Most people would have shoved her out of the way and said horrible
things… but not you."
Sherlock, feeling uncomfortable under this attractive man's gaze, looked around
the room instead. "How large can you make these?"
"You'd be surprised."
"Can you be commissioned?"
"Depends on what you'd like."
Sherlock contemplated it. He was getting married eventually. Maybe a nice
chandelier or...
"I may have a large order for you."
"I can handle anything so long as it's in a structured time frame."
Sherlock smirked, "Have you a pen and some paper?"
"And who is this order being made to?"
"Sherrinford Hope."
===============================================================================
Sherlock made certain to visit John at least twice a week for the next month,
their ease around each other spreading into a familiar sort of camaraderie. In
that time frame, Sherlock found the man he decided he wanted to marry.
But John was very confusing at times. Sherlock didn't know if he was Bisexual
or Heterosexual and for Sherlock, not knowing something was taboo. Almost
unheard of.
By the next month, Sherlock was visiting John every day that he knew John was
available. They went for walks, talked about literature, Sherlock learned that
John was a doctor but found he liked the calming atmosphere of glassblowing and
how he seemed to be natural at it. But he was also on call every now and then,
in case anyone needed help, he was licensed to aid them.
In turn, Sherlock revealed that he spoke many languages, knew many instruments,
and liked detective novels.
In the course of several months, Sherlock's schedule completely revolved around
John Watson. He was completely fixed on marrying John, sneering away all the
little, giggling women who tried to come and catch a glimpse of John, who was
muscular and attractive in a 'hard worker' sort of manner.
When his order was finished, done to how Sherlock had requested from John - for
John to do them as he liked - he paid and had his servants come to deliver them
home.
And then, right in John's little shop, Sherlock clasped their hands together
and asked, "John Watson, will you marry me?"
The blond quirked a brow for a second, before smirking, blue eyes twinkling.
"Certainly... your highness."
"Wha-"
"Your cheekbones aren't easy to hide, you know," John smiled, reaching up to
run a finger across Sherlock's left cheekbone. "But are you certain that you
want me? I'm not a Baron or even a Knight-"
"I don't want a Baron or a Knight!" protested Sherlock. "I want someone I like,
who likes me for me."
John sighed. "As long as you are certain."
Sherlock whipped off his hideous wig, nodding maniacally, making his curls
bounce.
"Come here," John murmured, pulling the prince into a light kiss.
"How will your brother handle it?"
"He'll have to deal in his own way, I suppose."
"Good."
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Vamplock Pt. 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Continuation of Chapter 1. SEXX!
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===============================================================================
Sherlock was a vampire so it wasn't a shock that he was able to catch John mid-
pounce and twist them both around so that he was the one to land on the top.
But he was also gentle because of John's shoulder and he didn't want to hurt
John.
The doctor was pinned to the ground, Sherlock's thin frame atop him. It was a
beautiful sight to behold.
"Are you sure we should be doing this in the entryway?"
"Mrs. Hudson is out and should anyone come I would hear them before you,"
explained the vampire as he trailed his mouth over John's heated skin, pulling
and tearing clothes. "Besides," purred the consulting detective. "Isn't it a
bit erotic to think of someone walking in on us, or hearing what we're getting
up to?"
Sherlock's hips twisted against John's, grinding him into the floor. The doctor
was already moaning and they hadn't even gotten to the biting part. Sherlock
could just imagine the delicious sounds John made when Sherlock's sank his
fangs into his warm flesh, pulling his life's essence from him. John just so
happened to be the perfect blood type for Sherlock. It would be perfection to
drink straight from the source.
"Fuck!" hissed John when Sherlock's fang brushed against his nipple.
"Yes, I do believe," purred Sherlock.
Sherlock's speed allowed him to strip John faster than the doctor could feel.
John's fully nude body lay in the middle of the drawing room, an open
invitation for Sherlock lay claim to every inch of his tanned flesh.
A desire to see John's throat bared to him, offering what he knew Sherlock
wanted, was so tempting. But he wanted John to do it without coercion from
Sherlock's vampire given abilities. John would bend or break for Sherlock
because he wanted to. Sherlock would have it no other way.
"Sherlock, if you aren't naked within the next minute, I swear I will destroy
your damn suit!"
Forget a minute, Sherlock was unclothed within seconds, fitting himself over
his lover and moaning as their erections pressed together. John grabbed him by
the head and pulled him down for a kiss, a kiss full of heat and passion and a
promise for great times. And John was doing something amazing with his
tongue, yes!
"Fuck me."
"You've never-"
"No, but I don't care. Fuck me, Sherlock."
Who was he to say no?
Sherlock smirked, leaning over to retrieve a small bottle of lube form his
discarded clothing. While he'd prefer to use blood, he knew that John was a
doctor and wouldn't appreciate the uncleanliness of the act. He'd wait until he
could persuade the man to his way of thinking before going down that road.
"Now John, you do know the mechanics behind this, correct?"
"How could I not when everybody and their brother thought I was gay?"
Too coherent.
That would be fixed soon enough.
"Then you would know what I am going to do to you. How I am going to do it.
Where I'm going to do it and how you're going to enjoy every moment of it."
John moaned as Sherlock prepared him for the best damn invasion in history.
Sherlock had never liked sex all that much but the thought of conquering John's
body like no one else had or ever would, was arousing. Because John was his and
no one else's.
"Do you want this, John?"
"Yes!"
"Tell me what it is exactly, that you want," Sherlock teased.
"Fuck! I want you to fuck me so hard I won't forget it. I want you to bite me
and mark me and I want to mark you. I don't want anyone else to have you,
Sherlock."
Sherlock's pleasure at those words had him ready. John wanted him, he wanted
John. And so commenced the fucking.
John writhed, his body unused to the invasion of Sherlock's cock, but still
welcoming, inviting. The slide was full of friction, smooth and unhindered.
John pushed up against him, moving his hips slightly.
"What's this?" breathed John. "I thought I said I didn't want to forget it."
Sherlock roared and pinned John's body down. Insinuating that Sherlock wasn't
good enough to make him remember who he belonged to!
He fucked John like he was indestructible, tearing him apart and putting him
back together over and over. Nipping wherever his mouth could reach. Drawing
little droplets of blood that he easily lapped up.
John shrieked, moaned, and growled as he was bombarded by Sherlock's cock.
Sounds so lovely they made Sherlock preen. He was making John do such improper
things. He was the one behind it all, controlling it all.
"Shall I mark you as mine, John? Shall I let others of my kind know whom you
belong to? Do you want to be with me for as long as I live? Will you stay with
me?"
"Yes, yes, please just bite me already!"
How could he refuse?
Incredibly pleased with his John, Sherlock leaned down and bit into John's
throat, marking him as Sherlock's for the rest of Sherlock's lifetime.
===============================================================================
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***** Parentlock Pt. 2 *****
Chapter Summary
     FLUFF!
Chapter Notes
     The boys are cute!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
Valerius and Sean took to Baker Street with ease. Since John knew more about
what young boys would prefer to do, he was the one to take them shopping for
what they'd like in their bedroom which was John's old room.
Sean seemed reluctant to spend someone's money and Valerius was carrying a
calculator. They went by car, which Mycroft had left for he and Sherlock to
make use of. The driver didn't look up once, simply took orders and they were
on their way.
The boys had settled for a bunk bed with the same blue coverings. Valerius
favored dark furniture while Sean liked cream colors. John could just see the
bedroom now. Dark and Light with little mixes in between.
Sherlock converted the bottom flat into a lab in order to keep 221B safe. Also,
the case workers would regularly make appearances and sometime surprise
appearances to make certain that everything was going fine.
It was cute how Sean latched into Valerius like he was a guide but the moment
things could possibly get heavy, Sean took the front and stood protectively
over his friend if he needed to. It was so much like Sherlock and John.
Mrs. Hudson adored them. The boys were enamoured with her cooking and that
meant a lot more biscuits in the flat than normal. Sherlock could appreciate
that.
On another note, Sherlock was teaching them science and deduction and had
wanted to start on musical instruments but John said they needed to get used to
life at 221B first before doing anything to drastic. Luckily it was summer and
the boys wouldn't have the stress of school weighing them down.
===============================================================================
Sherlock often lingered outside the boy's bedroom door to see if they really
went to sleep at the structured time limit. They didn't. The two usually laid
awake, whispering to each other.
This night, Sean was talking about Sherlock and how silly he was.
Sherlock wasn't silly at all! But he did listen as to why the young one thought
so.
"He pouts when John doesn't give him attention."
Sherlock most certainly did nothing of the sort!
"I know," came the hushed reply. "It's funny how he doesn't even know it
either."
Sherlock really didn't pout, did he? Did John know?
"I like it here, Vari," came Sean's tired voice.
"Me too."
There was silence and Sherlock was about to depart when he heard something
small, mumbled.
"Do you think we'll be like them when we grow up?"
That was Sean.
"I should like to marry you. Then we'd be together forever."
And that was Valerius.
Sherlock heard their breathing slow and he knew both were finally asleep. He
departed for the stairs, wanting to ask John about whether he pouted for
attention and tell him about the boys.
John was sitting by the fire, reading Tolkien.
"Our wards may have budding romantic inclinations toward each other," Sherlock
stated lowly as he took to his chair.
John peered at him from over the book and quirked a brow. "Is that so? What
gave you that idea?"
"The fact that Sean wants them to be like us and that Valerius wishes to marry
him so they can, 'be together forever'."
John's countenance softened incredibly - mush ball - and he smiled. "That is
adorable!" he laughed.
Sherlock nodded, feeling a little touched by the sentiment as well.
"John, do I pout?"
"Yes," came the swift answer.
Sherlock's jaw dropped and he stared aghast. How dare he?!
John merely smirked, "Yes, you do."
Sherlock huffed and turned away.
"You're doing it right now."
He was not!
There was a low sigh, before John was fitting himself into Sherlock's lap,
smiling warmly, eyes bright with affection.
"I love it when you pout. You look adorable and it makes me want to kiss you,"
admitted the doctor, a small flush working across his cheeks.
That he could work with.
"You make me want to kiss you all the time," said the consulting detective.
===============================================================================
Unknown to both men, peeking out from behind the doorway were two little heads,
belonging to two curious nine year olds.
Sean looked to Valerius and whispered, "Are we gonna kiss like that?"
Valerius frowned, "That's adult kissing, we won't do that for a while."
"Then what do we do?" asked the small blonde.
Valerius closed his eyes and pressed his puckered lips to Sean's cheek. He
pulled back, blushing.
Sean giggled and returned the favor.
The boys scampered back to their bedroom, making sure to be quiet so as not to
disturb the adult kissing.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** SoulmarkLock *****
Chapter Summary
     Soulmate Identifying Marks!
Chapter Notes
     They are idiots.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
Sherlock stared at the name written in a doctor's scrawl on his wrist. Hamish.
Not a terribly common name, but he suspected his soulmate was either Irish or
Scottish.
He could only hope that his soulmate wasn't an idiot.
===============================================================================
John Watson stared at the multicolored name on his wrist. William. Not too
terribly rare, though the writing was certainly posh. He just hoped that
whomever was his soulmate, wasn't rude. He hated rude people.
===============================================================================
When Sherlock first met John Watson, he didn't know what it was that drew him
to the man, but he liked it. John was different. John was… good. Sherlock
appreciated that while he struggled to be like the mindless goldfish around
him, he really wasn't a thing like them.
John, like so many others, kept his soulmark covered with a wristband. Sherlock
too had his covered, but simply because people were annoying and he didn't want
to draw much attention to it.
Neither he nor John ever asked each other about their marks.
All was well.
===============================================================================
John had never met any Williams. He thought his soulmate would be difficult to
find through the sea of them, but he'd so far never met any. It was confusing,
as he didn't know when he'd meet his soulmate and he was already in his early
thirties.
At least his mind was taken off it all by his dick of a flatmate, Sherlock.
Sherlock was a dick, there was no other way to say it. But he was John's and
John couldn't help but care about him anyway.
===============================================================================
Sherlock had never thought he'd worry about someone so much. Seeing John
strapped to a bomb had been a wake up call. Something terrifying had gripped
his heart. John had been in danger because of Sherlock.
Without so much as a thought, Sherlock hauled John into the cold water of the
pool while he shot the explosive vest.
The backlash had ended with several lacerations and contusions, and John had
light, second degree burns.
At the hospital, John was taken away from him in order to get treatment right
away. Sherlock had suffered the least amount of damage as he had been in the
water mostly.
Mycroft had come as predicted and confined him to his room because he couldn't
just 'burst in during the surgery'.
Sherlock ignored his own pain in favor of worrying about John. He ignored the
doctors attempting to fix him, his mind was simply on a loop. John. John. John.
John. John. Nothing else mattered.
A few hours later after he'd been stitched up, John was wheeled back into the
room, Mycroft having handled the dull paperwork.
The nurse smiled as Sherlock immediately left his bed in order to take up
residence in the seat beside John's bed. She glanced at the clipboard in her
hands, before her grin became maniacal.
"Your soulmate made a perfect recovery. He should wake within a few hours."
Sherlock's brain halted, because that wasn't right.
"He… he can't be my soulmate, his name is John."
The woman frowned and looked at the clipboard. "No, he was born Hamish John
Watson, preferred name John Watson. And you are William Sherlock Scott Holmes,
preferred name, Sherlock Holmes."
Sherlock looked to the wrist that held John's mark. It was usually covered but
not now. He reached out, grasping his friend' shand carefully and turning it
over to reveal WILLIAM written in various shades of blue, green, and gold, in
Sherlock's own script.
They were idiots.
===============================================================================
When John awoke in the hospital, he did not expect to be kissed upon awakening.
"You are my soulmate!" Sherlock practically gushed, showing John his mark,
which bore John's true name.
"B-but-" croaked John, unable to think of anything else to say.
"We're idiots, John. You're Hamish John Watson and I'm William Sherlock Scott
Holmes!"
John stared for the better part of a minute, before huffing a pained laugh.
They were idiots.
Sherlock was beaming though, clutching John's hand like it was a lifeline.
But they were each other's idiots, so it was okay.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** DollLock Pt.1 *****
Chapter Summary
     Part 1.
Chapter Notes
     Confusion.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
John's new flat had come with a doll. Not a cute little doll for little
children to play with. No. it was old and ratty, and looked ready for the
rubbish bin. But John felt bad for it.
He washed it thoroughly, got it some better clothing, stitched up the frayed
edges, added new stuffing. By the time he finished, it was like a brand new
doll, all well-dressed and smashing. He'd planned to give it to the nearest
charity shop. Someone would benefit from it.
Before he could complete the thought, something strange happened.
The doll moved!
Literally got up and walked across the table and began talking!
"I feel that I should thank you for fixing me. The last dwellers let their
canine companion run me ragged."
John stared down at the impossible thing, unable to fully believe that it was
really talking.
"I am talking, John Watson. Now step aside, please. I haven't been whole in a
long time and I can finally return to normal."
John was already moving back and was shocked when the doll jumped off the
table only to suddenly grow into a man that was much taller than John was.
A tall man with pale skin, dark, messy curls, and striking, blue/green eyes. A
man wearing a well tailored suit and a long trench coat, just like the doll had
been wearing.
He straightened his clothing and sniffed, "Much better."
His voice was deep, his cheekbones could cut diamonds, and John was flushed
with amazement.
"Congratulations, you have just earned yourself a flatmate. I'll go inform Mrs.
Hudson that I've returned. I'll handle the rent and I'll need to use your
mobile to make a couple of calls as well."
And with a swirl of clothing he was departing down the stairwell, yelling for
John's landlady.
John just stood there, gaping at the space the attractive man/doll had formerly
occupied.
The bloody hell had just happened?
                                      TBC
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** DollLock Pt.2 *****
Chapter Summary
     Part 2 of DollLock.
Chapter Notes
     Yes, hints of Beauty and the Beast and John speaks up about it.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
_A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!_
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===============================================================================
"Excuse me, but who the hell are you and what are you doing?"
Sherlock looked up from his typing, which was being done on his new flatmate's
laptop, and sighed. "I'm Sherlock Holmes and I'm reconnecting with the outside
world, am I not?"
"That laptop was password protected."
"Not Fort Knox you know."
"You know nothing about me in order to have guessed anything!"
Sherlock took that as an insult. He spun around and fixed the blond with the
full weight of his all-knowing stare. "I know that you are an army doctor, I
know that you've recently been invalided home, I know you have a brother who is
worried about you but you won't go to him for help, possibly because he's an
alcoholic but most likely because he recently walked out on his wife. I also
know that you therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm
afraid."
John Watson gaped, "How?"
"It's all there. You see it, but you don't observe.
Your phone is a few months old, but was a gift from someone to a person who
shares your surname. However, the power connection is scuffed terribly, meaning
the hands always shook when plugging it in at night, so either alcoholic or
drug addict. The first being more likely.
You have the standard military haircut, no tan above the wrists, you stand and
walk like you mean business. The limp is only present when walking but the
moment you stand still, you basically forget it's there. Then there are the
papers in your bag showing that you recently got a job at St. Bartholomew's
Hospital and the text message you received from one Mike Stamford, who is an
acquaintance of mine at Bart's.
It was all pretty obvious."
He turned back to the computer so he wouldn't have to see the man when he
finally caught up to himself.
"That's fantastic."
Sherlock went rigid and looked up at the man. "You really think so?"
"That was extraordinary!"
John Watson was grinning, not glaring or frowning or sneering. He was genuinely
impressed. That was a first.
"You got all of that from looking at me?"
"And your phone and bag."
"Wow."
John sat down, amazement still clear on his face.
"So then, why were you a doll if you're, you know, a bloody genius?"
Ah, there it was. He'd been waiting for that.
"My brother felt that I was becoming too lax in the keeping of my trust fund
and when I refused to adhere to his demands, he cut me off semi-permanently.
Unfortunately he also employed a particular sorcerer to punish me until someone
with good intentions decided I was worthy enough to receive their aid."
John was just staring.
"Yes, John, magic exists. May I remind you how I was formerly a doll?"
"No, I'm not that shocked about that. It's just, this sounds too much like
Beauty and the Beast."
Sherlock scoffed, "Obviously not, you aren't a beast."
"But you're a beauty?" John smirked, making Sherlock flush.
The brunet turned back to the laptop, continuing typing up his message so John
wouldn't see his face.
"And what are you doing now?"
"Well, Mycroft must be made aware of my awakening. He will put everything in
order as is his power to do so, and all of my belongings will be returned,
which is good because you have barely anything to decorate this flat with.
Also, a flatshare is much cheaper than you paying the entire bill."
"You are… something else."
"Yes."
                                      TBC
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it? This might be a separate story that I'll have to post
     later.
     So I found out that there is another fic like this called
     Johnloctober and I'm heart broken because I thought I was being
     brilliant coming up with 31 Days of Johnlock. Someone has already
     done it! It hurts!
***** AULock *****
Chapter Summary
     AU!
Chapter Notes
     Mycroft is an ass.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
_A/N:_Hello,_people!_New_fic!_
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===============================================================================
"Can I help you with something?"
Sherlock was startled from his reverie by a low, strong voice that seemed to be
fighting off annoyance. He looked up, coming face to face with a short but
sturdy, blond man, who was holding a clipboard. His hair was in varying stages
of blond and just a little silver, his eyes like a sweet, cornflower blue.
Unfortunately, Mycroft had to choose that moment to ruin Sherlock's reading.
"Yes, we're here to get a blood test and a drug test done on him. Preferably
sooner rather than later."
The doctor nodded, a tight smile on his face. "Well, as we have three surgeries
in place at the moment, an epileptic on watch, and an amputation in progress,
they're more important than either. You'll have to wait. Sign the form, give it
to Mary at the desk, and when we have a free space, you'll be in and out."
The man turned and walked away, leaving Mycroft gaping. Just as the fool was
going to open his mouth and probably ruin the good doctor's mood even further,
Sherlock slapped a hand over his mouth. "Shut it, Mycroft. Despite what you
think, a drug test isn't that important and I have no problem with sitting here
to wait."
Also, it annoyed Mycroft and Sherlock wanted to see the cute doctor again.
A few hours later - which really felt like a few minutes because Sherlock had
spent them in his Mind Palace - a young nurse told him to follow her into the
back. Mycroft naturally asserted himself and joined the crowd.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat in the chair provided, leaving Mycroft to
stand or sit on the bed. Sherlock was the patient, so Mycroft could deal with
it.
A moment later, the cute doctor entered the room. He was looking much more
tired than previously, but no less annoyed.
"Okay, reason for visit?"
"Blood and drug test," reiterated Mycroft.
"If you're looking for drugs, you'd just need a drug test," said Dr. Watson or
so the name tag claimed. "In fact, if you knew anything about drugs, you'd be
able to see that he isn't currently using."
Sherlock grinned with pride. He wasn't using, but Mycroft had refused to
believe him and forced him to the hospital.
"I'd prefer facts," sneered Mycroft.
Dr. Watson shrugged, "If you want the bill so badly."
The taxing process of the blood test was ridiculous and the drug test even more
so. Sherlock had always been disgusted with urinating into small cups.
Unsanitary, and for a Chemist, it was simply not done.
Then proceeded the waiting again, in which Sherlock slipped back into his mind
to go over everything he'd learned about the good doctor.
Former army.
Army doctor.
Psychosomatic limp.
Intermittent tremor in the left hand.
Cute with clothes on.
Most likely sexy with them off.
Sherlock was smiling when the man came back in.
Dr. Watson was holding a clipboard. "Congratulations, you are not doing drugs!"
he said with false cheer.
Mycroft sniffed and glared, but Sherlock was already out of his seat, grinning
mockingly at Mycroft. "I told you! If you knew how to check for the signs, this
wouldn't have happened! And now I have murderers to catch!"
Sherlock turned to the good doctor and smirked. "Dr. Watson," he nodded,
kissing the man with intense fervor before fleeing the room.
===============================================================================
An hour later, Sherlock pushed off the side of the building when the sight of
the good doctor reached him. He was leaving, bag in hand, and heading for the
curb.
Sherlock sidled up to him and brazenly asked, "Do you like Chinese?"
The man flinched a bit, but looked him over and gave a slow nod.
"Wonderful! I know the perfect restaurant!" Sherlock said, stepping into the
road to hail a cab. He opened the door for the doctor, who gave him a look.
"Are you coming onto me?"
"Yes, isn't is obvious?"
"Fine," the man slid in first. "And who am I going to dinner with?"
"Sherlock Holmes."
"John Watson."
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     How was it?
***** Hallowe'enLock *****
Chapter Summary
     Sherlock celebrates Hallowe'en for the first time.
Chapter Notes
     HELLO, PEOPLE!
     THANK YOU FOR TAKING THIS JOURNEY WITH ME! IT WAS AN INTERESTING
     CHALLENGE TO WRITE A MINI FIC FOR EACH DAY OF THE MONTH, BUT I WAS
     DETERMINED TO DO IT. I STARTED WRITING THEM IN EARLY SEPTEMBER SO I
     WOULD HAVE AN EASIER TIME ONCE OCTOBER ROLLED AROUND.
     THIS WAS FUN TO DO!
     I HOPE YOU ALL LIKED IT!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
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===============================================================================
"Why do we have to celebrate an American holiday?"
"Because it's pretty much spread all over the world these days and there will
be annoying little children knocking on our door for sweets."
"But twenty-five years ago the children were required to perform some sort of
trick in order to get a treat. I feel that they should earn the sweets they are
begging for."
"What would you have them do, Sherlock? The things you view as tricks aren't
things children can handle."
Sherlock was reluctantly following John up and down the aisles, wrinkling his
nose at the various bags of sweets John kept grabbing. He was also sneaking
them from the trolley and replacing them with better things. Like that bag of
brain shaped gummies.
"Sherlock, if you don't like what I'm choosing, why don't you choose them
instead?"
And out went almost the rest that John had chosen and in went better sweets.
Gummies that resembled body parts and insects, full sized chocolate bars
because his mind was already working. If the children were going to work for
it, they deserved real prizes for making it all the way through.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?!"
"I'm turning the flat into a Haunted House! If they survive-" "Sherlock!"
"Fine. If they make it out without running for their lives, they get good
prizes!"
"You just want an excuse to get your severed head to thaw, don't you?" John
asked, mindful of the fact that a woman was pushing her trolley a little too
close and was sending them odd looks.
"That and the fact that I just really want to scare children."
John sighed, but looking at the full sized Mars Bar, he had to concur. How many
people gave out full versions of the sweets? Or even the king sized ones
Sherlock was tossing into the trolley?
"Nothing too bad, okay Sherlock?"
"But John, you're going to help me! And we'll need costumes as well!"
John smiled as Sherlock bounced from place to place, grabbing sweets as if they
weren't expensive.
He had a feeling the consulting detective wasn't allowed to celebrate
Hallowe'en when he was a child. But perhaps this one time would get it all out
of his system.
Judging from the smile on his face, no it wouldn't.
===============================================================================
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Chapter End Notes
     HOW WAS IT?
     In my city there is an upper district that houses the rich. They buy
     full candy bars, but in order to get them, you have to sing, or
     dance, or perform some trick for them. That's what trick-or-treating
     is. Not vandalizing someone's property in a fit of temper because you
     didn't get candy.
     I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A SPOOKY HALLOWE'EN! (^W^)
End Notes
     I will upload a chapter every day this month.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!