Author's Note: I know I've been a complete stupid for never updating this again. Sorry! This fic was the first smut thing I've ever written and reading old chapters I feel sort of ashamed of myself for my grammatical mistakes and for my stupid and silly chapters. Will correct and edit all of them at some point in the future. Maybe I could re post this fic, who knows.

This is the last chapter. This happens shortly after John and Sherlock start their relationship.

Thanks for following and reviewing!

"Today in BBC World News - The conflict between both countries has been..."

Sherlock groaned and stared at John who was comfortably sitting on his armchair, a cup sitting on the little table, his eyes closed. The detective could feel John snoring, his hand, which was underneath his chin, supporting its weight, was about to fall and maybe wake the good doctor.

He slowly, but very slowly crawled on the floor until he was between John's legs. It wasn't difficult to reach John's zipper and pull it down.

It wasn't all difficult until John opened his eyes and stared at him, first sleepily and then sort of annoyingly.

"Sherlock..."

"I'm bored."

"So you were going to unzip my trousers?"

"It was obvious," Sherlock rolled his eyes and returned to his armchair. "I'm bored. So I thought I might as well suck you off."

John chuckled. "You were bored so you thought the best thing to do was sucking me off?"

"Yes."

"Didn't you think that maybe you could help Mrs Hudson with her basement? Or maybe wash the dishes?"

"No."

John rubbed his eyes and went back to the news. He stretched his legs, yawned and soon he focused on the news about the flooding somewhere in Asia, the heat wave in South America and the freezing cold in the States.

"What are you even watching that?"

John ignored him.

Sherlock insisted. "You know we could always go to my room and have sex. I have handcuffs."

John ignored him.

"I pick-pocketed Lestrade yesterday. Thought they may come in handy. Maybe I can handcuff you to the bed."

Nothing.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes."

Sherlock turned the telly off. "I'm bored."

"So? Wash the dishes. Help Mrs Hudson with her basement," John said tiredly, turning the telly on again. "There are at least six pairs of eyeballs in the fridge you haven't experimented with yet."

"I want to have sex."

"We had sex this morning."

Sherlock shrugged. "So?"

"Sherlock, this has to stop," John said, standing up and taking his empty cup to the sink where he started washing the dishes. The detective followed him closely. "Occupy yourself in more useful things."

"Helping Mrs Hudson with her basement?"

"Yes."

"That's not useful."

John dried his hands and looked at Sherlock. "Sherlock, we have to keep our hands off for a while. This is not normal."

"What is it?"

"The sex!" John exploded. "You're a demanding sex machine and my dick is about to fall off!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, you're a doctor. You know better than anyone that penises can't fall off -"

"No, they can't but have you heard of -"

"John."

Sherlock walked to the doctor and pushed him until he was leaning against the counter. The detective's long fingers started working on John's belt and zipper while his mouth did delicious and rather insane things to the doctor's lips. "John," he breathed and kissed him again in the way he knew made John melt. "John... you know how much you like this."

"Sherlock -"

"John," Sherlock bit his lower lip. "John, I think Mycroft is watching."

So far Sherlock could feel John's growing erection with his palm. He knew it was just a question of mere seconds, a few long kisses, languid touches and John was going to be nice and hard for him. But now that he had mentioned his brother, well, the name and the mere thought of Mycroft could be a bit of a put off.

John felt Sherlock's hand on his erection. "What?"

"Mycroft knows..." another kiss. "I think he's watching."

Now this was very weird.

"What?!"

The detective knelt before John and swallowed as much of John as possible until the tip of his nose was against his hips. John swallowed a curse and bit his fist before letting out a loud cry. The bastard was on his knees sucking him off as if he was a bloody damn expert with a degree in blowjobs. They started shagging just two days ago and in forty eight hours they had already fucked surely more than twenty times already. Sometimes in the rush of the moment and in between the pleasure of having, possessing Sherlock's body John wondered if Sherlock had ever sucked any other cocks before.

The bastard could certainly take cock.

Because now John stood still, frozen like an old statue in a museum while Sherlock bloody-cock-lover Holmes was giving him the best blowjob of his life as if he were in Britain's blowjobs national championship.

"Sherlock, I'm close -"

And then, Sherlock pulled back and took him to the living room. "Here, fuck me here."

"Sherlock, Mrs Hudson -"

"She already knows we're shagging. She won't come in."

"Sherlock -"

Too late, Watson. The detective was already naked and tossing a bottle of lube he had found under the sofa. "Mycroft is watching."

"You know it doesn't help, right?"

Sherlock smirked in a very sexy way he knew John liked. "I want to prove him he's wrong."

"Wrong about what?"

"You."

What the fuck? "What the hell are you talking about?"

John suddenly found himself being undressed until he was as naked as the day he was born. Sherlock leaned down and sucked his earlobe seductively.
He whispered something to the good doctor's ear and smiled as soon as he was told to be on his hands and knees and get ready.

John chuckled and pounded hard into the detective. "Mycroft is so wrong."

And underneath him Sherlock chuckled because he could and he knew he would always get what he wants.

"John," he panted.

"What?"

"I lied."

John smiled and continued fucking him hard. "Did you?"

"He's watching though."

"You're going to get more that you bargained for, Mr Holmes."

Suddenly, he was being flipped over until he was on his back. His long legs were on John's waist, clinging needy. Their lips met again in a frantic, passionate and violent kiss.

"John."

"Hmm?"

"I lied."

"When you said you loved me?"

Sherlock merely nodded when he felt John's hips slamming against his. "Ye- Yes."

"I know."

Of course he didn't lie. But it was funny to see Sherlock trying.

It was funny to see him like that, all displayed for him, begging for him.

It wasn't until both had orgasmed and collapsed together that John realised the mess they'd made. They were nothing but tangled limbs, sweaty bodies pressed together on the sofa, clothes all around the living room, the telly already forgotten as Sherlock's mobile which was annoyingly ringing.

"Your phone."

"It's Mycroft."

"Turn it off then."

They ignored it until it stopped ringing. They stayed there, in each other's arms.

It wasn't until Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's chest that he smiled again. "I have power over you, John Watson."

"Sherlock... for how long do you think this is going to last?"

The detective opened his mouth, a very clever, rather stupid answer about to leave his mouth when he smiled and looked at the man next to him.

"Until your dick falls off."

John chuckled.

The end.