John took a drink of his beer as he looked around, not quite believing he was at a burlesque show. Sherlock had been gone a lot lately, doing whatever it was he did when he wasn't home, so when an old friend from med school had called and asked if he'd be interested in a night on the town, John had quickly agreed. It beat spending another lonely night, pining for his flat mate. The rather large group had met at a pub and had a few before someone had suggested coming here. So John Watson found himself watching pretty girls, in skimpy costumes, sing and dance and having a very enjoyable time doing so. The MC stepped up to the microphone to introduce the next act.

"Ladies and gentleman, the club is not responsible for any broken hearts that may occur after seeing the next act." he said, "Please give a warm welcome to Sierra Holt."

The club filled with applause and cheers as the stage darkened. A single spot light lit the black curtain at floor level. The crowd went wild as a long, pale leg encased in a fishnet stocking and black laced ankle boot parted the curtain. The spot light traveled up, revealing a bit of pale thigh and a hip covered in black satin micro shorts. The club was silent as a warm, smoky voice began to sing. The person behind the curtain stepped into the spot light and John Watson could not believe what his eyes saw. With a long, lean torso wrapped in a purple velvet corset, ivory throat wrapped in a black velvet choker, cupid bow lips stained blood red, intense blue-gray eyes out lined in liner and mascara, Sherlock Holmes stood on a small stage in a burlesque club and set his poor, frustrated flat mate's world spinning out of control. As he strutted and shimmied across the stage, John's heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. When Sierra/Sherlock, whoever that unbelievable creature was, looked him right in the eye and winked, John had to fight down a scream as his cock surged to life and pressed against the fly of his jeans like it was trying to get to the object of all of John's fantasies. John fought to control himself as Sherlock finished his song and strutted to the curtain. Just as he parted it to pass through, he looked back over his shoulder and blew John a kiss. John's friends all laughed and patted him on the back, laughing. John wondered if he had the strength to luge the telephone pole between his legs to the loo. He took a deep breath and stood up on shaky legs. He made his way to the hall way leading to the bathrooms, grateful for the quiet. He'd lock himself in a stall, have a quick wank, then make his excuses and get a taxi home. Tomorrow he'd blame the alcohol and pretend he had never recognized Sherlock. If his fantasies included Sherlock in velvet and satin, shimming and shaking, so be it. His traitorous cock had other ideas though and before he knew it he had turned right instead of left and found himself outside a door with Sierra painted on a star on it.

"This is such a bad idea." he muttered to himself even as he lifted his hand to knock.

"I don't want to be disturbed." A very recognizable voice called.

John cursed himself as he turned the knob and walked in.

"But I'm your biggest fan." he said, proud his voice was so steady.

Sherlock was sitting at his dressing table. He turned and looked at John, then stood up. John groaned and Sherlock smiled as he came toward him. He reached behind John and locked the door, then took his hand. John couldn't believe what was happening as Sherlock led him over to the dressing table. He just stared as Sherlock unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, then leaned in and nuzzled his neck. John tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair, trying to find an anchor to reality as Sherlock's nimble fingers undid his belt and fly.

"Sherlock, what's happening?" he demanded.

"I just want to show my appreciation to my biggest fan." Sherlock told him as he slid John's jeans and pants down his legs. He pulled John's shoes off, and then lifted John, letting his jeans and pants fall to the floor. John sighed as Sherlock set him on the dressing table and gently pushed his thighs apart so he could stand between them. John grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, claiming his mouth. John ran his tongue along Sherlock's lips until they parted so it could explore his mouth. When the need for air forced him to, John broke the kiss, panting. He tipped his head back with a groan as Sherlock began to kiss his way down his throat and chest. He stopped breathing when Sherlock dropped to his knees and wrapped his hand around the base of his cock.

"OH God, Sherlock!" he gasped when Sherlock opened his mouth and suck the head of his cock.

John was totally fascinated as those red lips stretched around his cock and that dark head bobbed up and down as Sherlock worked his mouth over his cock, licking and sucking. He ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls as he began to thrust his hips, grunting as he slid down Sherlock's throat.

"So close." he groaned in warning as he felt the familiar pressure in his balls.

Sherlock just flicked his tongue over the slit on each up stroke and sucked harder on each down until John grabbed the back of his head and thrust deep into his mouth with a groan, his cock jerking and twitching as he came. He let go of Sherlock and sank back against the wall with a happy sigh as Sherlock slid his mouth off his cock, kiss his thigh and stood up. John smiled at the sight of him with his hair a tangled mess and his lipstick smeared all over his face. Sherlock smiled back and sat down in front of his mirror. John watched as he wiped his face and reapplied his lip stick.

"That's a good color on you." John told him.

"You too." Sherlock replied.

He grinned at John's puzzled expression and pointed at John's reflection in the mirror. John grinned when he saw the red smear on his face and the lip print trail that started at his throat and went down his chest, across his belly and ended at the base of his cock. Sherlock turned his head and looked at him.

"Now what?" John asked nervously.

"I think we should shag on every possible surface in this room." Sherlock told him in a matter a fact tone.

John gasped and sputtered in shock. He had been thinking the very same thing but hadn't dared to hope.

"I'm not a young man, "John told him, "I don't think we'll get to them all in one night."

"Then we'll have to keep coming back until we do." Sherlock said as he stood up. "I preform four nights a week so we'll have plenty of reasons for coming back."

John felt giddy at the idea of bending Sherlock over every piece of furniture in the room or Sherlock pushing him against every wall. He purred as Sherlock went over to the costume rack and removed his corset. His breath caught when Sherlock eased his shorts over his hips, then bent over as he slid them down his legs. His sucked air into his lungs in short ragged gulps as Sherlock turned and slowly walked back to him in a velvet choker, fishnet stockings and black ankle boots, his cock hard and pointing at his belly. He placed his dressing table chair in front of John, grabbed a tube out of a drawer, then turned his back to John and placed one foot on the chair. John groaned as he grabbed the back of the chair with one hand and leaned forward, his ass thrust into the air. John hopped off the dressing table and took the tube of lubricant from him. He squirted some onto the fingers of one hand and began to rub one against Sherlock's hole. Sherlock gave a grunt as John slowly eased his finger past the tight ring of muscle. John waited until he relaxed then began to work it in and out, adding another after a few minutes. John reached around and began to stroke Sherlock's cock as he scissored his fingers, stretching him. Sherlock hissed at the burn of being stretched, then moaned as John curled his fingers and caressed his prostrate. John added a third finger and Sherlock began to rock back and forth, thrust his cock into John's fist and his ass onto his fingers. Sherlock whimpered when John let go of his cock and slid his fingers out of his ass. John spun him around and gave him a quick kiss, then spun him back around and pushed his chest down on the dressing table. He coated his cock with lube, pushed Sherlock's legs apart, lifted his hips, and began to slow sink his cock in his ass. Both of them moaned as John's cock filled Sherlock's ass. John as the tight, heat engulfed him, Sherlock as the thick, hot solidness filled him. When he was balls deep, John draped himself across Sherlock's back and kissed his neck. He grinned when he saw their reflections in the mirror and got an idea. He reached over and adjusted the wing mirror. When it was to his liking, he began to slowly ease back out of Sherlock.

'Look, Sherlock." he said, gently turning Sherlock's head.

Sherlock smiled at him in the mirror and pushed back as John pushed forward. John grabbed his choker and pulled his head back.

""I've want to fill your sweet ass with my cock for so long." he growled in Sherlock's ear, "I'm going to pound it until you can't stand it anymore and are begging me to fill you with my cum."

Sherlock watched in the mirror as John grabbed his hips as he quickened his pace, his cock going deeper with each thrust. He moaned and arched his back every time John hit his sweet spot. John closed his fist around Sherlock's cock and stroked it.

"Come for me beautiful." John purred in Sherlock's ear, "I want to see you come."

John watched Sherlock's face in the mirror as his orgasm washed over him. At first he looked shocked, and then he relaxed and looked peaceful as the pleasure took over and his cum spilled over John's fist. John groaned as Sherlock's ass tightened and squeezed at his cock. He knew Sherlock would be more sensitive now that he had come, so he slowed his thrusts.

"John," Sherlock panted, his whole body trembling, "come, please."

That velvety voice begging sent John right over the edge. He pushed in as deep as he could and let go with a shout, his cock spasming as his come shot out to fill Sherlock. With a grunt he eased out of Sherlock, he wrapped an arm around his waist and lowered them to the floor. John sprawled on his back, his arm around Sherlock, holding him against his chest, letting everything settle.

"That was one," Sherlock said, "We have fifteen more to go."

John lifted his head and looked around the room.

"How do you figure?'" he asked.

"The table, both of its chairs, the dressing table chair, the settee three ways, the settee itself, it's arm and back, four walls, the door, and there are three spots on the floor with enough room, oh and the door to the bathroom, so there are actually sixteen more to go." Sherlock recited.

John let his head fall back as a grin spread across his face.

"Of course there are lots of places in the flat and anywhere else that we might want to have a go." Sherlock told him.

"Of course." John agreed with a chuckle.

John shook his head in wonder. Who would of thought that when he had agreed to a night on the town to take his mind off of his flat mate that not only would he end up shagging said flat mate, but also being told he was going to be shagging said flat mate on a regular basis. God he loved his life.