Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Disclaimer: These characters are still not mine. No matter how hard I stare at them. Spoilers for A Study in Pink.
Thanks to blooms84 for beta reading and encouragement.
Wordcount: 1210 for this part
Warnings: sexual content, fallout from threesome
Summary: John is confused again and this time it's not about Sherlock.
A/N: This is all blooms84's fault for writing The Unbearable Fineness of Lestrade and making me sad about Lestrade all over again.
The events recollected here take place in ( Triple Jump )
Sherlock glares at the nicotine patches on his arm. Not working. He's never had more than a three-patch problem in his life and he doesn't intend to start now.
This is all Lestrade's fault. Might have known he'd mess things up somehow.
That threesome had been a bloody bad idea. Thought he'd finally got all the pieces lined up on the chessboard just the way he wanted them, and then -
Not that it had been entirely unsatisfactory. Physically, that is. That last bit where Sherlock was sandwiched between John sucking him off and Lestrade fucking him had been ... very agreeable. More the sort of thing he'd had in mind when he set it up in the first place.
Certainly a lot pleasanter than all that stupid tickling nonsense just before it. Childish. Typical Lestrade, taking advantage of his weakness like that. And John – the unfairness of John ganging up on him with Lestrade, he can't even think about it without becoming childish himself. Ganging up on.
John knows perfectly well what that stuff does to him. Giving him away like that to Lestrade and then joining in.
He really is quite seriously annoyed with John about that.
It ought to be scientifically possible to invent a cure for it. The whole thing is completely irrational, particularly its side-effects.
His own voice echoes in his head, begging please no please stop I can't bear it, and then please fuck me oh god please now. Can't seem to get rid of the echo and it's really annoying. Makes him feel things he doesn't want to feel. Stupid to be getting an erection, thinking about all that.
Sherlock glares again at the useless patches. He's seriously wondering about adding a fourth, even if it does lead to nicotine poisoning.
But the tickling wasn't the worst of it, not by any means. What was worse – and is worse – is what happened with John and Lestrade.
He'd thought it would be amusing, seeing those two together. Amusing, and safe, because they've resented each other, hated each other almost, since the day they met.
Lestrade at the crime scene, saying suspiciously Who's this?
He'd enjoyed the exchange, winding Lestrade up: He's with me.
-But who is he?
-I said, he's with me.
And John, later that night, asking him what the story was with him and Lestrade. Obviously not really believing Sherlock's claim that the relationship was just professional. John's not completely stupid.
He is exceptionally annoying, though. Especially at the moment.
Not as amusing as he'd thought it would be, watching the two of them kissing like that. More uncomfortable than watching them have sex, which doesn't make sense at all. He'd wanted to take it out on John, make him sweat a bit, and bloody Lestrade had ruined that as well. Interfering. And then making stupid jokes about geometry.
John's been acting strangely ever since that night. Which is really worrying. Because John is, in almost every way, the most normal man Sherlock knows. The one who can be relied on not to act strangely at all.
Now, John keeps staring off into the distance, and jumping and blushing when Sherlock asks him what he's thinking about. Unprecedented in itself: Sherlock's never needed to ask what anyone's thinking before. It's never mattered.
And when Sherlock does ask, John just says Oh nothing. Sherlock has watched enough crap telly by now to know that this is code for I'm having sexual thoughts about someone other than you and it's making me feel guilty. Which is a lot to make two words mean, but apparently that's how the shorthand works.
And he doesn't need the science of deduction to work out who that someone else is. Even if Sherlock couldn't believe it when he first thought of it. Bloody Lestrade.
If he'd had any lingering doubts, seeing John just now at Lestrade's office was – incontrovertible evidence. Never seen John looking so guilty about anything. And what could he possibly just want a word with Lestrade about?
Didn't look as if a word was what he wanted. Sherlock knows that look, the part of it that isn't guilt at least. It's the look John gets when he wants to have sex and is too shy to ask. Sherlock hasn't seen so much of it lately, partly because John hasn't been so shy about asking. But he remembers it, that mixture of shyness and hope and lust. And seeing John looking like that about someone else does most peculiar and unpleasant things to Sherlock's insides.
They're probably at it now, Sherlock thinks savagely. Kissing. Huh.
Never understood the point of that. He knows it's expected, but really, of all the time-wasting, messy, adolescent, boring -
John doesn't think it's boring.
Seemed to be liking it a lot with Lestrade. Whimpering, of all things. Not good, hearing that. Really not good.
It can't be that difficult if Lestrade's good at it. Can it?
Sherlock feels stupid and he hates feeling stupid. It really hadn't occurred to him that he might lose John to another man. Well, lose is a melodramatic term, absurd really, but -
He's come close to losing John before, when he's done something not good. And there was that narrow squeak when John thought he should try to have a girlfriend, stupid idea, easy to see that one off. It was perfectly obvious John's heart wasn't in it. But this is different.
Looking like that about Lestrade. Going to Lestrade's office when he had no business being there at all.
Sherlock wonders whether John would have told him about going to see Lestrade if they hadn't run into each other. Another seriously uncomfortable thought. John never lies. Well, apart from trying to bluff Sherlock about shooting that serial killer, but that had been ridiculous and rather sweet.
Lying about going to see Lestrade wouldn't be either of those things.
Sherlock doesn't like the thought of John lying to him. Makes him feel even more peculiar in his insides.
He wonders if this is how John feels when Sherlock lies to him about something. Another uncomfortable thought. Too many for one afternoon.
He wonders if there are any cigarettes anywhere in the flat. Probably not. There definitely isn't anything stronger. And anyway that really would be the end of it. He knows that.
Sherlock curls up unhappily on the sofa, hugging his knees for comfort. Might be good if he could fall asleep. He hasn't slept well for a few nights now, and going without sleep seems to bother him more than it used to.
He wonders what John and Lestrade are doing now.
Hopes Lestrade isn't busy telling John everything Sherlock said to him just before John arrived. Probably is, though.
Talking about things is always a mistake. He really ought to know better by now.
If John's going back to work this afternoon he won't be home for hours yet.
Sherlock doesn't let himself think about what else John might do with the afternoon, because John wouldn't. Wouldn't not turn up for work.
Nothing to stop him meeting Lestrade again after work, though, is there?
Sherlock used to think there was nothing worse than being bored. Now he's not so sure.
Next: ( Lestrade's still puzzling over that frankly weird conversation with Sherlock )
Previous: ( This whole thing is Sherlock's fault. John knows that, but it doesn't make it any easier. )