A/N: Okay johnsarmylady challenged some of us to write what she called a Christmas alphabet story, any length. I picked a rather naughty 221B – apparently I felt the need to do smut – not sorry. So except for the author's note – there should be No L's in this story (fingers crossed) – get it? No L's? Thanks to Good Old James for a suggestion that made this much better:)

Don't own, probably a good thing:P

The detective, perched as if he were a crow, watched John, with focused intensity. John remained supine upon the bed; face down covered in nothing but a sheen of sweat. He watched John's face of his friend, whose body he had just finished worshiping. He traced the other's mouth with a fingertip, not quite wishing to awaken him. He remembered what that mouth was adept at doing. A shudder raced through his frame, chasing desire and want. He thought of extended, unhurried, burning kisses, continuation of soft sighs and whispered moans, which finished with incoherent cries of passion that roared through the shared bedroom. Thoughts continued and he found he was skimming a soft hand over the damp skin on John's back. He was beginning to think that perhaps, waking John was a good thing. He sank down nearer to John and brushed his fevered mouth across his arm, across his back and down toward his perfect, firm bottom. Hot, demanding kisses. Asked with mouth and tongue, wanting John to wake up and join him. The figure on the bed stirred and shifted, turned over to face the dark haired man. His mouth curved upwards and he said with a voice abounding with tenderness and a hint of tiredness, "You are a bad, man, very, very bad."