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Help From A Friend
Title: Help From A Friend
Pairing: Sherlock/John, Mycroft, Jim
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,634
Summary: After being drugged with an aphrodisiac, John seeks Sherlock's help with fixing it.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, unfortunately. Written for this prompt at the BBC Sherlock Kink Meme
John rocked back and forth in his seat as Sherlock tested the juice that had been in their fridge along with an arm Sherlock had some intention of testing. Honestly, John couldn’t have cared less about the appendage. Not when his entire body felt like it was on fire and he couldn’t quite find a comfortable position in the chair.
“Would stop trying to copulate with the furniture?”
“I’m horny!” John snapped back, instantly embarrassed by his own reaction. Or he would’ve been if not for the fact that when he leaned down into the chair a little more, slouching as he went, his pants dragged across his crotch in the most pleasurable way.
Biting back a moan as he did it a few more times, John shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m trying to get off using a chair.”
“And not even creatively, at that,” Sherlock scoffed.
Getting up quickly, John paced around the room. He didn’t even know why Sherlock was bothering to test the juice. They both had come to conclusion that he had been given some sort of aphrodisiac after he had rushed to inform the other of his strong desire to sleep with someone. Not that waking up with John straddling his hips as he felt up everything he could reach didn’t clue Sherlock in before that.
With a deep breath, John tried to get his mind off of sex. Aphrodisiac or not, he was a doctor and knew that his reaction was chemical based and would wear off as soon as whatever it was he was given had metabolized. Then he could take a vacation away from his friend until the entire situation faded from both their memories and could never be brought up again.
“This would go faster if you weren’t pressed against me,” Sherlock said, never looking up from his microscope.
Frowning, John looked around to find himself pressed against Sherlock, rutting against the man as though it was an everyday occurrence. Opening his mouth to try and defend himself, he just couldn’t bring himself to form words. Or stop. And judging by the tense way Sherlock sat there, he wasn’t amused by John’s lack of control.
Forcing himself to move away from the other man, John whimpered. It was a noise born completely out of shame and not because he was already starting to miss the friction he got from grinding against his best friend’s back.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t—“
“I know,” Sherlock said, still only focused the microscope.
Which was for the best, John told himself. Not that he wouldn’t have preferred to have someone interested in helping him out the good old fashioned way. Resting his hip against Sherlock’s desk, he started out the window, hand idly fingering the man’s curls.
“Dear God. Am I going to have to tie you up in order to get any peace?!”
Biting back a moan at the thought, John blushed. “I’ve been drugged with some aphrodisiac! I can’t help it!”
“If this is such a bother for you, go find Mrs. Hudson.”
“For what?”
Catching the look Sherlock gave him, John was certain part of the flush that covered his face was due in part to what the other man had just suggested. And another part was due to the fact that honestly, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea at the moment.
“I thought you were the great Sherlock Holmes?! You’re supposed to be able to help me!” John shot back after overcoming the thoughts threatening to distract him.
“I am helping you. I’m trying to find out what you’ve been drugged with. Not that you can appreciate such efforts. No, I’m certain you’d much rather I bend you over the desk and make you forget everything except the feeling of me pounding you into oblivion, no?”
Whining at the thought, John licked his lips and leaned a bit closer to Sherlock. Yes, his usual annoying bored tone was, well, annoying him, but that didn’t change the fact that hearing that deep voice say such filth was enough to make John want to jumped the other man.
“And when I finished I could do it again on the couch, in the kitchen, my room, your room the stairs. Right in front of the door so that way if anyone came in or out, they’d see me reducing you to a quivering mess,” Sherlock continued as he changed the slide on his microscope. Switching the intensity of it, he made some small noise before adding, “It would likely be Lestrade.”
“Why Lestrade?” John asked as calmly as he could while trying desperately not to rub at the front of his pants.
“It’s logical considering how he’s been trying to reach me. Couldn’t you just picture him walking in and catching us with your legs over my shoulders as I—“
“Yeah, alright. Sod the tests,” John said, thoroughly fed up as he shoved Sherlock out of his chair.
He didn’t pay any mind to the way the man stared up at him in shock, instead, simply moving the chair out of the way and straddling his friend’s hips. Fisting a hand in Sherlock’s hair, he kissed him hard.
For once Sherlock didn’t seem to have a single comment to make, John noted with a hint of pride. The man’s mouth only opened to grant John full access, tongue trying to inspect every inch of it. Rocking his hips frantically in an effort to find any sort of friction, he was caught off guard when he felt Sherlock’s hands on his hips, trying to match his pace from his position.
Breaking the kiss, John stared down at the man. “You’re enjoying this,” he panted.
Sherlock rolled his eyes as though it was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. “You expected me not to?”
“I’ve been… desperate for sex and you’ve been enjoying it,” John complained as he dragged his nails down Sherlock’s side.
Sherlock arched his back at the sensation, mouth falling open as he moaned. Biting his lip as he focused on that neck suddenly on display, John whimpered. It was only logical to press his lips against the pale skin, leaving gentle kisses that turned into rough bites as he made his way down. Each one bringing a slight hitch to Sherlock’s already uneasy breathing.
“You could’ve ruined my experiment,” Sherlock said in an easy tone.
Looking up at him, John muttered against his neck, “We know what’s wrong with me. Kind of makes the tests a bit unnecessary, no?”
Cupping John’s cheek, Sherlock pushed him back enough to look at him. Eyes completely blown with lust, he smirked. “I wasn’t studying the juice. Well, I suppose I was studying the effect it had on you, but we’ve already figured part of that was due to my enjoyment of this situation.”
Sitting upright, John looked to his side as he tried to not only make the words make sense, but process Sherlock’s point. Feeling Sherlock start to sit up beneath him, John shook his head.
“You… You weren’t… So, this was your plan all along and you waited because me humping everything in sight is amusing to you?” John questioned, voice rising the more he spoke.
“Precisely,” Sherlock said before shoving John onto his back.
Watching Sherlock strip off his shirt, John wanted to be annoyed. He wanted to genuinely hate the other man for sitting there, all the while knowing that he was suffering. Instead he found himself taking off his own shirt. Lying back on the floor as Sherlock moved to kneel between his legs, John ran his hand through the other’s hair and kissed him again.
And however impressive Sherlock’s mouth seemed to be when solving mysteries or piecing together the more difficult pieces of the puzzles no one else could figure out, it didn’t compare to the way he made John lose track of anything but the way Sherlock kissed him like that would give him the answer to everything.
He didn’t even notice when his pants were undone until Sherlock’s hand was on him, loosely stroking his dick. Moaning into the kiss, he rocked his hips, once again reminded of the release he had been so desperate to find since the aphrodisiac took its effect. Of course, Sherlock merely kept up with the half hearted stroking, his other hand coming in to play just to hold down John’s hip.
Yanking at the man hair, John glared at him. “Damn it, Sherlock. Will you just do me already?!”
“Rushing gets nothing done.”
“That’s hardly teasing. Now this…”
Letting the sentence trail off, Sherlock gripped John’s pants and swiftly tugged them off before returning to his position between John’s legs. Looking down at his friend as though he was the most fascinating of mysteries or criminals, Sherlock ran his finger down the underside of John’s cock before bringing it back up, carefully avoiding the slit as he circled the head.
Whimpering, John was practically shaking under Sherlock’s intense stare. Frantically he ran his hand down Sherlock’s thigh, knowing there was no way he’d be able to find the coordination to undo his pants himself.
“You’re practically flushed all over, you realize that? It really is rather fascinating with your hair color,” Sherlock commented in a tone that was nearly as lazy as his finger’s ministrations.
“Please. Sherlock, please. Just… God, just do something.”
At that Sherlock sat back with a slight frown. Undoing his pants, he said as he took them off, “Interesting. You seem most willing to beg. Of course, it’s impossible to know if that’s the aphrodisiac or your prolonged state of arousal. One would hope that as a soldier you’d be able to put up with something like this longer.”
“So you are torturing me?” John questioned, not wanting Sherlock to get too distracted with his own thoughts.
Not that Sherlock seemed to notice, as usual. Instead he began to search through his desk until his found lube and a condom. Putting them down next to John, he gave the other a rather serious look.
“I’m going to have to try this again when you aren’t otherwise drugged.”
The thought of next time was the last thing John needed to be thinking about. Not when he was willing to do or say anything just to get to this time. But then Sherlock was gently pressing a finger in him and it was all John could do to remember how to breathe as the finger began to slowly move in and out. By time the second pressed in, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing back against them, fucking himself on Sherlock’s fingers. And when Sherlock found his prostate, John didn’t bother trying to silence the loud moan it elicited.
Pressing against him as he continued to make his friend moan like a cheap whore with his actions, Sherlock whispered harshly in his ear, “Keep making such a fuss and Mrs. Hudson will surely come down here to make sure you’re alright.” With that he removed his fingers as John tried to follow after them and stared down at the man. “And I’m certain you don’t want her to see what we’re doing.”
Blinking, John nodded dumbly before flipping them over and covering Sherlock’s mouth with his hand.
“Just shut up and lie there,” he ordered before sinking down on Sherlock’s dick.
Shuddering through the feeling, John stared at Sherlock, who laid there with his lips parted in pure ecstasy as his fingers gripped at the hips of the man on top of him. Running a hand up his friend’s chest, he began to ride Sherlock like he’d been trying not to for most of the day.
Sherlock, for all his teasing, definitely didn’t seem to mind the change. No, he merely planted his feet on the ground a bit more as he thrust into that tight heat again and again. Gripping the edge of the desk for leverage, John began to truly ride the other in earnest. It was perfect, simply perfect. Sherlock shifting a bit restlessly beneath until he found that angle that just made John shudder, eagerly letting himself fall into Sherlock’s thrusts
When those long fingers wrapped around his dick, stroking away with no real finesse, he just couldn’t take it. Digging his nails into the edge of the desk, he came harder than he could ever remember; shuddering from the aftershocks of his own release and Sherlock’s increasingly frenzied thrusts. Closing his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing, he continued to ride his friend until Sherlock finally came with a small cry John was distantly aware might be better categorized as a squeak.
Time sluggishly passed by before Sherlock gently coaxed John’s hands off the desk. Carefully lying his down on the ground, Sherlock laid next to him, running his hand through John’s hair as his held him close. He was perfectly content to stay there like that forever until a certain noise caught his attention.
Disentangling himself from John, Sherlock shakily got to his feet and put his pants back on. Noting the curious look on John’s face, Sherlock nodded toward the door.
“Mobile,” he explained.
When John merely gave him a lazy nod, Sherlock walked out of the room and glared at the man who stood near his couch.
“I suppose I should’ve expected an evil genius such as yourself to be responsible.”
Mycroft smiled kindly. “We both know neither of you were going to make the first move without—“
“Interference,” Jim chuckled behind his cup of tea.
“It was a favor,” Mycroft pointed out.
“That involved Moriarty, no less,” Sherlock said with disgust.
Jim only rolled his eyes. Setting his cup aside, he got to feet and scoffed. “Oh please. Even I was sick of the sexual tension between you two. I mean, could you be more obvious?”
“This was all for you benefit, I assure you,” Mycroft added.
Looking between the two men, Sherlock made no appearance of letting his anger with either of them go long enough to be even a bit grateful for the ‘favor’ they’d done for him.
“Sherlock, what’s…” John fell silent as he walked into the room and took note of the other men.
Glancing at him, Sherlock wasn’t surprise to see him once again fully dressed. Nor was it a shock to see the man so pale as he stared wide eyed at their guests.
“Well this is all starting to get rather boring,” Jim commented. Looking over John and Sherlock he smiled at Mycroft. “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to call him ‘The Virgin’ any more, would it?”
To his credit, at least, Mycroft didn’t make any outward sign of hearing their mutual enemy.
“Anyways, I have to go. Do have fun, boys. And I must say, Watson, you have quite the surprising voice on you.”
With that Jim left. It didn’t take much more than an annoyed glare from his brother to get Mycroft to follow soon after, a muttered comment about how it really was the only way the only thing he said before his departure.
Sighing, Sherlock turned to John, who seemed to be doing his best to become redder than a tomato. With a small shove of the other man, he nodded toward the bedroom. “Hurry. I have more tests to conduct?”
“Huh? Oh. Right… I guess I should get some rest while you work.”
“What? No. I need to see if you’re still under the influence of the aphrodisiac and if not, find out whether you become such a writhing mess under normal circumstance.”
“Oh. Alright then. If it’s for the sake of science,” John muttered, taking his shirt as he made his way to Sherlock’s room for a lot more very serious tests.
Pairing: Sherlock/John, Mycroft, Jim
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,634
Summary: After being drugged with an aphrodisiac, John seeks Sherlock's help with fixing it.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, unfortunately. Written for this prompt at the BBC Sherlock Kink Meme
John rocked back and forth in his seat as Sherlock tested the juice that had been in their fridge along with an arm Sherlock had some intention of testing. Honestly, John couldn’t have cared less about the appendage. Not when his entire body felt like it was on fire and he couldn’t quite find a comfortable position in the chair.
“Would stop trying to copulate with the furniture?”
“I’m horny!” John snapped back, instantly embarrassed by his own reaction. Or he would’ve been if not for the fact that when he leaned down into the chair a little more, slouching as he went, his pants dragged across his crotch in the most pleasurable way.
Biting back a moan as he did it a few more times, John shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m trying to get off using a chair.”
“And not even creatively, at that,” Sherlock scoffed.
Getting up quickly, John paced around the room. He didn’t even know why Sherlock was bothering to test the juice. They both had come to conclusion that he had been given some sort of aphrodisiac after he had rushed to inform the other of his strong desire to sleep with someone. Not that waking up with John straddling his hips as he felt up everything he could reach didn’t clue Sherlock in before that.
With a deep breath, John tried to get his mind off of sex. Aphrodisiac or not, he was a doctor and knew that his reaction was chemical based and would wear off as soon as whatever it was he was given had metabolized. Then he could take a vacation away from his friend until the entire situation faded from both their memories and could never be brought up again.
“This would go faster if you weren’t pressed against me,” Sherlock said, never looking up from his microscope.
Frowning, John looked around to find himself pressed against Sherlock, rutting against the man as though it was an everyday occurrence. Opening his mouth to try and defend himself, he just couldn’t bring himself to form words. Or stop. And judging by the tense way Sherlock sat there, he wasn’t amused by John’s lack of control.
Forcing himself to move away from the other man, John whimpered. It was a noise born completely out of shame and not because he was already starting to miss the friction he got from grinding against his best friend’s back.
“I’m sorry. I just can’t—“
“I know,” Sherlock said, still only focused the microscope.
Which was for the best, John told himself. Not that he wouldn’t have preferred to have someone interested in helping him out the good old fashioned way. Resting his hip against Sherlock’s desk, he started out the window, hand idly fingering the man’s curls.
“Dear God. Am I going to have to tie you up in order to get any peace?!”
Biting back a moan at the thought, John blushed. “I’ve been drugged with some aphrodisiac! I can’t help it!”
“If this is such a bother for you, go find Mrs. Hudson.”
“For what?”
Catching the look Sherlock gave him, John was certain part of the flush that covered his face was due in part to what the other man had just suggested. And another part was due to the fact that honestly, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea at the moment.
“I thought you were the great Sherlock Holmes?! You’re supposed to be able to help me!” John shot back after overcoming the thoughts threatening to distract him.
“I am helping you. I’m trying to find out what you’ve been drugged with. Not that you can appreciate such efforts. No, I’m certain you’d much rather I bend you over the desk and make you forget everything except the feeling of me pounding you into oblivion, no?”
Whining at the thought, John licked his lips and leaned a bit closer to Sherlock. Yes, his usual annoying bored tone was, well, annoying him, but that didn’t change the fact that hearing that deep voice say such filth was enough to make John want to jumped the other man.
“And when I finished I could do it again on the couch, in the kitchen, my room, your room the stairs. Right in front of the door so that way if anyone came in or out, they’d see me reducing you to a quivering mess,” Sherlock continued as he changed the slide on his microscope. Switching the intensity of it, he made some small noise before adding, “It would likely be Lestrade.”
“Why Lestrade?” John asked as calmly as he could while trying desperately not to rub at the front of his pants.
“It’s logical considering how he’s been trying to reach me. Couldn’t you just picture him walking in and catching us with your legs over my shoulders as I—“
“Yeah, alright. Sod the tests,” John said, thoroughly fed up as he shoved Sherlock out of his chair.
He didn’t pay any mind to the way the man stared up at him in shock, instead, simply moving the chair out of the way and straddling his friend’s hips. Fisting a hand in Sherlock’s hair, he kissed him hard.
For once Sherlock didn’t seem to have a single comment to make, John noted with a hint of pride. The man’s mouth only opened to grant John full access, tongue trying to inspect every inch of it. Rocking his hips frantically in an effort to find any sort of friction, he was caught off guard when he felt Sherlock’s hands on his hips, trying to match his pace from his position.
Breaking the kiss, John stared down at the man. “You’re enjoying this,” he panted.
Sherlock rolled his eyes as though it was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. “You expected me not to?”
“I’ve been… desperate for sex and you’ve been enjoying it,” John complained as he dragged his nails down Sherlock’s side.
Sherlock arched his back at the sensation, mouth falling open as he moaned. Biting his lip as he focused on that neck suddenly on display, John whimpered. It was only logical to press his lips against the pale skin, leaving gentle kisses that turned into rough bites as he made his way down. Each one bringing a slight hitch to Sherlock’s already uneasy breathing.
“You could’ve ruined my experiment,” Sherlock said in an easy tone.
Looking up at him, John muttered against his neck, “We know what’s wrong with me. Kind of makes the tests a bit unnecessary, no?”
Cupping John’s cheek, Sherlock pushed him back enough to look at him. Eyes completely blown with lust, he smirked. “I wasn’t studying the juice. Well, I suppose I was studying the effect it had on you, but we’ve already figured part of that was due to my enjoyment of this situation.”
Sitting upright, John looked to his side as he tried to not only make the words make sense, but process Sherlock’s point. Feeling Sherlock start to sit up beneath him, John shook his head.
“You… You weren’t… So, this was your plan all along and you waited because me humping everything in sight is amusing to you?” John questioned, voice rising the more he spoke.
“Precisely,” Sherlock said before shoving John onto his back.
Watching Sherlock strip off his shirt, John wanted to be annoyed. He wanted to genuinely hate the other man for sitting there, all the while knowing that he was suffering. Instead he found himself taking off his own shirt. Lying back on the floor as Sherlock moved to kneel between his legs, John ran his hand through the other’s hair and kissed him again.
And however impressive Sherlock’s mouth seemed to be when solving mysteries or piecing together the more difficult pieces of the puzzles no one else could figure out, it didn’t compare to the way he made John lose track of anything but the way Sherlock kissed him like that would give him the answer to everything.
He didn’t even notice when his pants were undone until Sherlock’s hand was on him, loosely stroking his dick. Moaning into the kiss, he rocked his hips, once again reminded of the release he had been so desperate to find since the aphrodisiac took its effect. Of course, Sherlock merely kept up with the half hearted stroking, his other hand coming in to play just to hold down John’s hip.
Yanking at the man hair, John glared at him. “Damn it, Sherlock. Will you just do me already?!”
“Rushing gets nothing done.”
“That’s hardly teasing. Now this…”
Letting the sentence trail off, Sherlock gripped John’s pants and swiftly tugged them off before returning to his position between John’s legs. Looking down at his friend as though he was the most fascinating of mysteries or criminals, Sherlock ran his finger down the underside of John’s cock before bringing it back up, carefully avoiding the slit as he circled the head.
Whimpering, John was practically shaking under Sherlock’s intense stare. Frantically he ran his hand down Sherlock’s thigh, knowing there was no way he’d be able to find the coordination to undo his pants himself.
“You’re practically flushed all over, you realize that? It really is rather fascinating with your hair color,” Sherlock commented in a tone that was nearly as lazy as his finger’s ministrations.
“Please. Sherlock, please. Just… God, just do something.”
At that Sherlock sat back with a slight frown. Undoing his pants, he said as he took them off, “Interesting. You seem most willing to beg. Of course, it’s impossible to know if that’s the aphrodisiac or your prolonged state of arousal. One would hope that as a soldier you’d be able to put up with something like this longer.”
“So you are torturing me?” John questioned, not wanting Sherlock to get too distracted with his own thoughts.
Not that Sherlock seemed to notice, as usual. Instead he began to search through his desk until his found lube and a condom. Putting them down next to John, he gave the other a rather serious look.
“I’m going to have to try this again when you aren’t otherwise drugged.”
The thought of next time was the last thing John needed to be thinking about. Not when he was willing to do or say anything just to get to this time. But then Sherlock was gently pressing a finger in him and it was all John could do to remember how to breathe as the finger began to slowly move in and out. By time the second pressed in, he couldn’t stop himself from pressing back against them, fucking himself on Sherlock’s fingers. And when Sherlock found his prostate, John didn’t bother trying to silence the loud moan it elicited.
Pressing against him as he continued to make his friend moan like a cheap whore with his actions, Sherlock whispered harshly in his ear, “Keep making such a fuss and Mrs. Hudson will surely come down here to make sure you’re alright.” With that he removed his fingers as John tried to follow after them and stared down at the man. “And I’m certain you don’t want her to see what we’re doing.”
Blinking, John nodded dumbly before flipping them over and covering Sherlock’s mouth with his hand.
“Just shut up and lie there,” he ordered before sinking down on Sherlock’s dick.
Shuddering through the feeling, John stared at Sherlock, who laid there with his lips parted in pure ecstasy as his fingers gripped at the hips of the man on top of him. Running a hand up his friend’s chest, he began to ride Sherlock like he’d been trying not to for most of the day.
Sherlock, for all his teasing, definitely didn’t seem to mind the change. No, he merely planted his feet on the ground a bit more as he thrust into that tight heat again and again. Gripping the edge of the desk for leverage, John began to truly ride the other in earnest. It was perfect, simply perfect. Sherlock shifting a bit restlessly beneath until he found that angle that just made John shudder, eagerly letting himself fall into Sherlock’s thrusts
When those long fingers wrapped around his dick, stroking away with no real finesse, he just couldn’t take it. Digging his nails into the edge of the desk, he came harder than he could ever remember; shuddering from the aftershocks of his own release and Sherlock’s increasingly frenzied thrusts. Closing his eyes as he tried to steady his breathing, he continued to ride his friend until Sherlock finally came with a small cry John was distantly aware might be better categorized as a squeak.
Time sluggishly passed by before Sherlock gently coaxed John’s hands off the desk. Carefully lying his down on the ground, Sherlock laid next to him, running his hand through John’s hair as his held him close. He was perfectly content to stay there like that forever until a certain noise caught his attention.
Disentangling himself from John, Sherlock shakily got to his feet and put his pants back on. Noting the curious look on John’s face, Sherlock nodded toward the door.
“Mobile,” he explained.
When John merely gave him a lazy nod, Sherlock walked out of the room and glared at the man who stood near his couch.
“I suppose I should’ve expected an evil genius such as yourself to be responsible.”
Mycroft smiled kindly. “We both know neither of you were going to make the first move without—“
“Interference,” Jim chuckled behind his cup of tea.
“It was a favor,” Mycroft pointed out.
“That involved Moriarty, no less,” Sherlock said with disgust.
Jim only rolled his eyes. Setting his cup aside, he got to feet and scoffed. “Oh please. Even I was sick of the sexual tension between you two. I mean, could you be more obvious?”
“This was all for you benefit, I assure you,” Mycroft added.
Looking between the two men, Sherlock made no appearance of letting his anger with either of them go long enough to be even a bit grateful for the ‘favor’ they’d done for him.
“Sherlock, what’s…” John fell silent as he walked into the room and took note of the other men.
Glancing at him, Sherlock wasn’t surprise to see him once again fully dressed. Nor was it a shock to see the man so pale as he stared wide eyed at their guests.
“Well this is all starting to get rather boring,” Jim commented. Looking over John and Sherlock he smiled at Mycroft. “I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to call him ‘The Virgin’ any more, would it?”
To his credit, at least, Mycroft didn’t make any outward sign of hearing their mutual enemy.
“Anyways, I have to go. Do have fun, boys. And I must say, Watson, you have quite the surprising voice on you.”
With that Jim left. It didn’t take much more than an annoyed glare from his brother to get Mycroft to follow soon after, a muttered comment about how it really was the only way the only thing he said before his departure.
Sighing, Sherlock turned to John, who seemed to be doing his best to become redder than a tomato. With a small shove of the other man, he nodded toward the bedroom. “Hurry. I have more tests to conduct?”
“Huh? Oh. Right… I guess I should get some rest while you work.”
“What? No. I need to see if you’re still under the influence of the aphrodisiac and if not, find out whether you become such a writhing mess under normal circumstance.”
“Oh. Alright then. If it’s for the sake of science,” John muttered, taking his shirt as he made his way to Sherlock’s room for a lot more very serious tests.