The Body

Sherlock asks for John. Not to get him a pen, or make him tea, just John. He apparently wants John's body. On the couch. Right now. For a case, of course. Asexual Sherlock. Not-so-asexual John. One-shot. John's POV. Rated M for Johnlock smut.

"John! JOHN!"

Sherlock's voice echoed up the stairs from the living room. John had retreated to his own bedroom with his laptop when Sherlock's reconstruction of the crime scene had taken over the entire floor, coffee table and sofa. The kitchen was out of the question. That had the permanent set up for experiments and Sherlock's microscope which probably cost more than all of John's possessions combined. Sherlock had also threatened him with death if he touched it. So what was the shouting about then? If Sherlock wanted tea after driving John out of his own flat he could bloody well make it himself. Not that he ever did.

"What?" John shouted back. "Get your own bloody pen!"

"No, I need you."

Hmm. That was unusual. Sherlock often needed his laptop, his phone or for him to do something. John could not offhand recall Sherlock ever asking for him before. This was something new.

Cursing his own curiosity, which was not in Sherlock's league but nevertheless quite considerable, John descended the stairs and poked his head into the living room. It looked rather like a paper replica of a snow storm had taken place and even the walls were covered with sticky notes.

"Case going well?" he asked.

"No." Sherlock frowned. "I'm missing something."

"What?"

"A body. The case involves two dead bodies so far, but it only makes sense if there was a third one. That's what I need you for."

"What?" John couldn't help recalling Sally's opening comment the first time he ever met her. One day we'll standing around a body and it'll be him that put it there.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "John, don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to kill you, I just need your body. There. On the couch. Should be quite comfortable actually. You can bring your laptop or a book if you like. It might take a while."

John sighed, but he already knew he was going to give in. Didn't he always do what Sherlock wanted? Impersonating a dead body was just one more item for the blog. His followers would probably think it was funny. They didn't know the half of the funny stuff Sherlock made him do. He just wouldn't mention that it might take three or four hours, or five, or eight…

"Hurry up, please," Sherlock was tapping his foot with impatience, but he had said please. It must be important.

"Righty-o. I'll just grab my laptop and be right there." John replied. He darted up to his room and grabbed both his laptop and his current spy novel. Experience had shown him that Sherlock's might take a while was most people's don't expect to eat or sleep for the next two days. He ran back down the stairs. "OK, where do you want me?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "On the couch, I already said that. I do hate repeating myself."

"All right, all right, I'm going. Just sitting on the couch be all right for you?" John was picking his way through the papers on the floor trying not to disturb anything important.

"For now," was Sherlock's not particularly reassuring reply.

# # # # # # # # # #

After three hours of Sherlock huffing around the room rearranging papers and adding more sticky notes to the wall, John had finished updating his blog, checked his emails, read ten chapters of his book and was ready for a cup of tea.

"I'm going to make a cup of tea, want one?" he asked. No answer from Sherlock, which was typical. John stood up and apparently the rustle of his clothes as he stood was louder than his actual voice, because Sherlock immediately whipped his head around and frowned.

"Where do you think you are going?" Sherlock asked, disapprovingly.

John rolled his eyes. "For a cup of tea, to light the fire as I'm freezing and maybe a piss." He added sarcastically, "If that's all right with you."

"Just tea for me, and don't step on any of the papers or scuff anything around. I'm at a very delicate stage."

Delicate, snorted John to himself. Princess would be more like it.

Despite it all, he made two cups of tea before returning to the sofa. It was much warmer in the small living room now that the fire was lit, and with the tea warming him from the inside as well, John decided to remove his jumper.

"Yes, good idea," said Sherlock.

"What?" replied John.

"I'm ready for you to impersonate the naked body. That's why you were taking your jumper off, wasn't it?"

"Er, no, actually," said John. "It's just getting a bit warm in here…"

"Anyway, I need you to take all the rest of your clothes off now, please." Sherlock rolled his eyes at John's stubborn glare. "All right, you can finish your cup of tea first."

Sherlock stalked into the kitchen as John undressed. John gave thanks for small mercies. He stripped down to his underwear but left his pants on. Sherlock couldn't expect him to get completely naked for a bloody crime scene reconstruction. He wasn't easy. He wasn't gay. The pants were staying on.

Sherlock came back from the kitchen waving two jars in his hands. "Strawberry jam or tomato sauce?"

"What?"

"Blood, John! I need to recreate the blood spatters on your body. Do you want me to make them with tomato sauce (probably more lifelike but rather more runny) or strawberry jam, which might be sweeter but stickier to remove?"

"Er…" John's brain was short circuiting with the idea of Sherlock licking the strawberry jam off his body. "I'll have the jam, thanks."

Sherlock shrugged as if it made no difference to him and opened the jam jar. "Lie down on the sofa, John." He gave a rather sinister smile. "This won't hurt a bit."

# # # # # # # # # #

After two hours of lying on the couch with his eyes closed while Sherlock daubed various parts of his body with the jam, John was getting fed up. His original titillation had worn off and now he was just bored.

"Sherlock."

"Ssshh!"

"Sherlock!"

"I'm thinking, lie still and be quiet."

"No, I won't!" John was getting pissed off now. "I'm not going to lie back any longer and think of England. I've had enough and I want a shower."

"I'll make it worth your while."

"What?"

"Did you think I wouldn't deduce what your initial thoughts were when I asked you to lie down naked on the sofa and let me paint your body with jam?" Sherlock still had his eyes closed but he smiled as if he could see John's blush.

"I thought you were asexual, married to your work and all that?" John blurted.

"Well, yes. I am, but you're not. I don't mind. My suggestion was that if you can lie still for one more hour, I would make it worth your while. You invest more time than that in getting those boring women to sleep with you."

"Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"I'm suggesting licking the jam off you, then giving you a hand job either on the sofa or in the shower, whichever you prefer." Sherlock's voice was completely calm and even, just as if he were discussing whether John preferred his tea with milk or lemon.

"Sofa." John managed to choke out, before he closed his eyes again. Thank God he'd left his pants on. At least he could pretend that just the idea of Sherlock's tongue on him wasn't giving him a massive hard-on. Or that Sherlock was unaware of it. Denial was a wonderful state.

John drifted in a semi-delirious state of warmth and anticipation. Sherlock was going to…

"Oh!" Sherlock gave his usual orgasmic gasp of realization. "Of course! It was the cousin! John you are so clever, so perfect. Time for your reward, I think…"

Then a warm, wet tongue was being gently applied to his body, cleaning off the jam from his shoulder, his neck, crossing his chest and moving down his belly… Long tapered fingers were dipping into his pants and he was involuntarily lifting his hips. Dammit, were his pants coming off? Yes, yes they definitely were. But oh, it was worth it to feel those long, smooth violinist's fingers wrapping around his eager cock. Sherlock was jerking him off, and just the thought of it nearly made him come on the spot. He opened his eyes and looked down at where Sherlock's hand was wrapped around his dick. Oh yes, this was really happening.

"Close your eyes," Sherlock snapped.

"Why?"

"I just don't like you looking at me while I'm doing this. I need to concentrate."

"You have done this before, haven't you?"

"Yes, of course!"

John sneaked a peek at Sherlock under his eyelids. Was Sherlock blushing?

"Have you ever done this to someone else, I mean?"

"I don't see why that is relevant. It's the same motions, just at a different angle."

"Oh God, stop!"

John groaned as Sherlock removed his hand from his leaking prick.

"Why?" Sherlock looked a bit disappointed.

"Because if it's your first time with someone else, I should make it good for you. I don't want to just come all over your hand and then go off and have a shower."

Sherlock shrugged. "That was my plan. I have to call Lestrade anyway, but it can wait until you are… done. I've already had my reward – you lay still for me for over five hours."

"That's… kind of sick you know. You're saying that I played a dead body for you and that's what earned me a hand job from you?"

"Problem?"

John glanced at Sherlock's trousers which were flat and undisturbed. "I suppose not. Let's go then." John lay back on the sofa again.

"Please close your eyes though. It's weird that you are watching me do this."

"Why? I like it. Your hand on me is hot."

"Fine! Just don't talk to me, it's distracting."

The undistracted Sherlock then returned to rubbing his hand up and down John's erect cock, giving a little twist of his wrist around the head that had John moaning and closing his eyes despite his intention to watch. John was panting now and he could feel his tip getting wet as his balls drew up close to his body. He glanced down again just in time to see Sherlock lick his lips.

"You can kiss me there, if you want to." John ventured.

"That doesn't sound very sanitary." Sherlock returned.

John shrugged. "Up to you. I can come like this. I just saw you licking your lips and thought you might be wondering what I taste like."

Sherlock tilted his head to one side, as if considering the idea. John closed his eyes again, hoping that might encourage him to… Yes! A warm wet stripe was being licked up the length of his cock and lips were tentatively closing around his tip. He bucked his hips up involuntarily, and heard a noise of protest from Sherlock.

"Sorry!" he gasped. "Didn't mean to do that."

Sherlock only hummed in reply, and oh God, the vibrations reverberated from his prick through his entire body. He couldn't help giving shallow thrusts with his hips, but Sherlock had one hand firmly around the base of his cock now, and was controlling the depth of penetration into his mouth. Sherlock gave a swirl of his tongue around the head and John gasped and groaned.

"Sherlock! I'm going to… Ah!" Then John was climaxing, lightning flashing across behind his closed eyelids as blinding pleasure whited out his mind.

He flopped back on the couch again, his mind pleasantly blank and his body buzzing lightly. Mmm, nice. Except that his stomach felt very wet. He looked down at the mess on his belly.

"Sherlock, did you spit my come out on my stomach?"

"Well, you didn't expect me to swallow it, did you? It doesn't taste very nice, and you said you were going to have a shower anyway." Sherlock was inspecting the mess on his hands, and then rose and went into the kitchen to wash them. "Hurry up, I'm going to call Lestrade and he'll probably want us to go to the Yard and tell him what I've discovered."

"Which is what?"

"That you like it when I give you head, and you blush charmingly when you come, but that it doesn't taste very nice."

"Sherlock!"

"And that one mouthful of ejaculate hardly constitutes a meal. Now that the case is over, I'm a bit hungry. Angelo's?"

"I impersonate a dead body, then you suck me off, then we go out on a dinner date. Does any of that sound a bit strange to you?"

"No."

"Then it's all fine. Let's do it."

Don't know why I wrote this. I was lying in bed (alone, alas) as I came home from hospital yesterday and this little scenario popped into my head. Not sure why I'm so taken by the idea of asexual Sherlock doing sexual things to John, but it seems that's how I roll. If you like it, please review! If you want to see more of my asexual Sherlock, have a look at "After the Great Game".