Fic: Sex and Paranoia 1/3 Sherlock (BBC) [R]
Title: Sex and Paranoia
Author: A Lanart
Character(s): Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, OFC.
Pairing: Watson/OFC,
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: R this part
Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers. Mild BDSM references and a touch of voyeurism
Summary: Sherlock makes a request. John is not happy.
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes belongs to ACD, though this incarnation is the responsibility of a certain Mr Moffat and Mr Gattis (thanks guys!) and the BBC.
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made; this is just for fun!
The OFC is mine.
Title from the song by The Wedding Anniversary
A/N: Idea from this prompt at Make me a Monday week 72 the relevant bit for my muses being includes John's outrage at being a test subject once again, a self-possessed OFC who can focus on John without being distracted by the weirdo measuring her responses. Not an exact fill, but the OFC is there. Cally was first introduced in Undisclosed Desires and this fic takes place at the same time as UD, just before the last scene.
~*~
Sex and Paranoia
*
Living in the same flat as Sherlock Holmes was akin to living in a seismically active area and about as unpredictable but John counted himself lucky that the times when it was more like being in a war zone weren't that frequent. Sherlock had learned the hard way that making things literally - instead of metaphorically - explode when John was in the flat, especially when he was half asleep and without warning him in advance, was not a good idea; the bruises had taken a while to heal.
John had learned to deal with most of Sherlock's odd requests with equanimity as he stood a much better chance of explaining to Sherlock just *why* he wouldn't do something if he remained calm and appealed to logic; not that Sherlock always understood what John thought of as logic, particularly if interpersonal relationships were involved. Occasionally though, Sherlock did an admirable job of disrupting John's hard-won and almost stoic calm. He'd thought it was bad enough when Sherlock barged in on him having some 'personal' time, despite him having locked the door - he'd not heard the tell-tale sounds of the lock being picked as his mind had been elsewhere as he focused on the task in hand - but Sherlock's latest request really took the damned biscuit.
"You want me to *what*?!" It was a pub night, and John had just picked his coat up ready to head out when Sherlock had dropped his bombshell. If John hadn't been too gobsmacked to move he would have stomped across the room to shake some sense into Sherlock where he sprawled indolently on the sofa.
"You heard me correctly, I'm sure. I need to observe your physiological response to erotic stimuli when carried out by another person; ergo, I require you to bring someone here, where I can undertake the observation in a more controlled environment, and engage in sexual intercourse."
The sound of his coat hitting the floor after it had slid out of his suddenly wooden fingers roused John somewhat from his complete and utter stupefaction.
"Sherlock! You can't just…"
"A woman would be better, I think, but if you were so inclined a man would be acceptable for the…."
"Sherlock!!!" John felt like he was almost screaming but it appeared to at least gain a proportion of Sherlock's attention. He took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to bring himself under some semblance of control before he said anything else. "That is not something you should be asking of a… a friend, believe me."
"I don't see why not, I couldn't ask anyone else could I?"
John wanted to bash his head against the door frame in an effort to try and knock some sense into *himself*; Sherlock's logic sometimes left him feeling like he was flailing in quicksand.
"Well, no. I suppose it is better that you asked me rather than anyone else," he said. The smile that sneaked across Sherlock's face at that looked far too dangerous for John's liking so he raised a hand to halt its progression. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to indulge you. Some things just aren't done, Sherlock and you spying on my sex life is one of them."
"It wouldn't be spying if you and the other party were aware of my presence from the outset, it would be…"
"Sherlock! Enough!" John bent to pick up his coat from the floor and struggled into it; his hands still felt a bit wooden. "I'm going out for a drink with the guys and I expect you to have put this.. this *ludicrous* idea out of your mind by the time I get back. Is that clear?"
"Yes, John."
He gave Sherlock a narrow eyed glare - he didn't trust the bland meekness of that tone of voice - and opened the door. It was an effort not to slam it behind him but he reminded himself that it wasn't Mrs Hudson's doors fault that Sherlock was such a git.
*
John was not in a mood to be sociable when he arrived at the pub and he was sure that was probably obvious from his face as he wasn't met with the usual cheery greeting.
"Sherlock?" Greg asked with a sigh.
"Sherlock," John agreed and concentrated fiercely on the pint that Greg shoved under his nose. He was left alone for the entirety of his first pint and he was halfway through his second before he surfaced enough to take note of his table mates. He caught Greg's eyes and gave him a nod that was answered with a quick smile but no-one attempted to leave the gaggle of people at the other end of the table and take one of the empty seats next to him and that was fine with John. A few minutes and a couple more mouthfuls of beer later he started to take notice of who had come out for the night and was still in the process when someone sat next to him. The pink drink would have been indicator enough of identity, even without the be-ringed hand with metallic purple nails that was wrapped round it. She was obviously on a day off; she never wore jewellery or nail varnish if she'd been on duty. Her hair was like a dark blue cloud around her face.
"Cally."
"John."
They drank in silence for a while and he felt himself begin to unwind; it was a relief. He stretched a little and sighed; dealing with Sherlock would give him a stroke one of these days.
"So, what's he done now?" Cally asked with studied casualness, it was the tone of voice she used to mean "if you want to tell me, I'll listen, but don't feel obliged if you don't think you can share" and John appreciated her tact. He wasn't sure if he *wanted* to tell anyone but if he did, Cally would probably be his first choice; Greg was too close to Sherlock for John to feel completely comfortable about offloading some of his issues on him, even if he shared John's exasperation with Sherlock more often than not.
"Oh just him being his usual self," he replied. It wasn't that far from the truth.
Cally let him get away with the answer for another swallow of beer.
"I don't think so. Oh he may have been being his usual tactful self but whatever it was has rattled you badly. He's not done *that* for a while, John." He glanced at her for a moment to find that behind the make up she just looked concerned and John felt a little bit more of his bad mood fall away under her regard.
"I'm not sure where I would start," he said.
She smiled at him. "The beginning is usually a good place."
"I… Ok. Um… Yeah." John glanced at the rest of the table to find them totally uninterested in what he and Cally were sharing as they listened to - and participated in - Greg arguing with, of all people, Sally Donovan about Star Trek. He'd never realised Greg was a closet Trekkie but he couldn't say it exactly surprised him.
"So?"
"I'm not sure you really want to know, it's not the sort of thing you discuss with friends in a pub."
"John, I'm a nurse; we talk about diarrhoea over curry. Plus, I'm a nosy cow and I'm absolutely *dying* of curiosity."
John couldn't help but smile, maybe Cally would help him gain a different perspective. He decided there was no other way to go about this than to go for broke. He sighed.
"Sherlock had a proposition to make before I left."
"Good on him, I didn't think he was interested..."
"Not *that* sort of proposition. Well, not quite that sort of proposition; he still isn't interested in.. ah.. indulging in certain things…"
"You mean sex."
"Cally!"
"Sorry. Go on."
"You're right though, but while he isn't interested on his own behalf it seems he is from a purely scientific point of view. He apparently wants to observe my 'physiological response to erotic stimuli when carried out by another person' - his words, not mine."
"By another person, hmm? Oh don't tell me he walked in on you tossing off."
John felt his ears go red, but he didn't reply.
"He did, didn't he? And now he wants to *watch* you with someone else? Bloody Sherlock's a voyeur; fancy that." She sounded far too happy for John's liking.
"You aren't making this any easier," he said.
"Sorry." This time Cally did sound genuinely apologetic and he dared another glance at her; her expression was thoughtful rather than the mocking one he'd partly expected. She noticed him looking and gave him a smile. "So what did you say?"
"I told him to forget it."
"Do you honestly think he will?"
"No, and that's the problem."
"You are going to have one huge fucking elephant in the room."
"Exactly."
"Well, I can think of one solution."
"You can?" John hoped he didn't sound too desperate.
"Yeah. Me." John felt like he'd been hit in the head with a chair but Cally just grinned at him. "I like you, I like sex with you and it would be good to do it in a bed for a change, so why not?"
"Cally, you can't honestly…"
"John, shut up a minute."
John closed his mouth and glared at her.
"Thank you," she said. "Now think; where did you first meet me?"
"At a crime scene."
"I said think, John. What was special about that crime scene?"
"You were doing first aid in a corset. No, don't "John, shut up" me again, that was the first thing I noticed; it was kind of hot. So you were wearing the corset because it was a.. fetish club, right?"
"Close. Did you look upstairs at all?"
"I didn't get the chance after.. " After he'd fucked her against the wall in the disabled loo without even knowing her name. He gave her a shamefaced grin. She grinned back.
"You might have found it interesting. Upstairs was the 'play' area; it was a BDSM club night. You do know what I mean by BDSM, don't you?"
John mumbled his way through the meaning of the acronym but as she nodded in agreement he counted it as a win.
"I still don't see what this has got to do with what Sherlock said - or your solution," he said.
"Trust me, it's very relevant. I think I'm safe in assuming it's not the thought of sex with me that's the problem."
"God, no. Definitely no problem there." John had to admit he rather liked the idea of sex in a proper bed with Cally and he was certain the stupid smile on his face would confirm what he'd said.
"You don't like the idea of being watched, then."
"Of course I don't… not in such a… a.. clinical way at least."
"Heat of the moment?"
"Maybe. I don't know - it's never been an issue for God's sake." He knew he sounded irritated, but her line of questioning was not exactly making him comfortable.
"In a BDSM scene you learn to focus on who is sharing that scene with you, no matter how many other people are watching; it's essential. This wouldn't be exactly the same but if you gave me half a chance and I bet I could get you to forget Sherlock was there. I'm very focused when I put my mind to it."
"I.. I'm sure you are." John licked his suddenly dry lips and reached for his drink.
"Like the idea, do you?" she asked.
"A bit more than I did."
"Enough to consider it?"
"Maybe." His mind leapt from A to C without stopping at B. "You can't mean tonight!"
"No, of course I don't mean tonight. Maybe next week - gives you time to get used to the idea but not long enough to wriggle out of it. Plus, I need to talk to Sherlock. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it *my* way and some boundaries will have to be set. He has to realise that if he steps over those boundaries I will kick his arse so hard he won't be able to sit down for a week."
"You're really serious about this," he said. It was less of surprise than he thought it would be.
"Never been more serious in my life. Having fun can be a serious business but it doesn't stop me from wanting to have fun whenever I can. Life's too short."
John couldn't help but stare at the mischievous grin on her face for a moment; then something clicked. God, he was stupid sometimes.
"You're… you *want* Sherlock to watch. You like the idea!" He hoped he didn't sound as accusatory to her as he did in his own ears. She defused that worry when the grin stretched wider across her face.
"Guilty as charged. I like the idea of proving to him that for certain messy, human things he really can't be the centre of attention, even if he's right there in the room with us." She paused, glanced aside at him. "And you are *definitely* interested…" John grabbed for his pint again. He wasn't going to give her an answer, he didn't think he had to when he'd been unconsciously shifting in his chair to relieve the pressure of his jeans on a certain part of his anatomy. She chuckled softly, before scrambling out of her chair and heading towards the bar for refills.
As if her departure had been a signal, Greg appeared at his other side - the conversation about Star Trek obviously over - and settled himself into the chair.
"Better?" Greg asked.
John nodded, giving him a quick smile.
"Good. Need me to set up another drugs bust sometime soon?"
"Not this time. I think Cally is all set to give him a piece of her mind," John said.
"I'm staying well away, then. Wouldn't want to get on her bad side by mistake."
There was a clink as Cally returned with the drinks, placed them on the table and sat back down in her own chair.
"And that, Greg, is the most sensible thing I've heard you say all night," she said with a smile.
John couldn't remember what they talked about after that, just let the comfortable flow of conversation wash over and around him until it was time to leave. He found himself strangely nervous as he left the pub with Cally, wondering just what she would say to Sherlock and what he would do in response. She linked her arm through his as they walked down the road.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "Just go with the flow and it'll be fine. Stop me if I say something you really don't agree with, though. OK?"
"OK," he agreed.
John trudged up the stairs up to 221b trying not to worry about what would greet him on the other side of the door. It seemed fairly quiet which was generally a good sign but he didn't like to make assumptions, not where Sherlock was concerned.
Sherlock was in the kitchen, eyes glued to the microscope on the table.
"Ah John, if you could just…"
John would have no idea what Sherlock was going to ask - probably to make tea, knowing him - as at that moment he raised his head and caught sight of Cally. If John hadn't been so bothered by the whole thing he would have enjoyed the experience of Sherlock being rendered speechless.
"Sherlock."
"Cally."
John felt like a fish out of water as he watched the two of them size each other up. Cally broke first, and smiled.
"Mind if I make a cuppa?" She asked.
"Help yourself."
John hung up his coat and watched as she made tea for the 3 of them, fixing each mug just right which puzzled him until he remembered that she'd got them tea when they'd been in A&E; just a good memory, then. Mug in hand, John retreated to his chair by the fire and Cally took a seat on the sofa. John was surprised when Sherlock followed them out and perched on his own chair.
The silence was uncomfortable.
"Don't mind the elephant," Cally said. "I'll be sending it on its way soon enough."
John thought the perplexed expression on Sherlock's face was almost worth his own discomfort. Almost.
"She's here about your proposed… experiment," John said carefully.
Sherlock frowned. "I thought I was supposed to put the 'ludicrous idea' out of my mind?"
"Left up to John, you would have had to. I had a different idea but it means you'll have to agree to some terms and conditions."
John tried to make himself disappear into his chair in anticipation of them discussing him as if he wasn't there. He was used to it from Sherlock of course but it didn't mean he was looking forward to the experience.
"Go on," Sherlock said.
"One: if we agree to do this, it has to be in your room, Sherlock. I have no qualms about invading your privacy in this situation but to force it on John would be wrong."
John sighed with relief, that was something he'd worried about as his room up the stairs was just about his only refuge from Sherlock, even if he did pick the lock.
"Two: we are in control of this, not you. If either of us decide we aren't happy then it doesn't happen. If we want to stop at any point, we stop."
John risked a glance at Sherlock; he was doing nothing more sinister than sipping at his tea, though he gave a nod to Cally to indicate that she should continue, which John thought was hopeful.
"Three: you keep your mouth shut. You wanted to observe; that's fine, observe. Offering your opinion on what you observe is not required and will run the risk of ending the 'experiment' earlier than you might wish. You may answer if either of us speaks to you first."
Sherlock looked slightly pained at the last condition, but he still nodded his agreement. John hid his smile in his tea.
"Four: you pay for my taxi fare home afterwards; I don't think it would be a good idea for me to stay. Oh and just let me add that if you do try to take control of this, Sherlock, you will regret it; that much I can promise you. I know exactly how to use that riding crop I saw on your desk."
With that, she finished, and settled back into the cushions of the sofa. John noticed that the silence that met the end of Cally's terms and conditions had a different quality than the earlier one; it was… expectant. She glanced at him and he nodded carefully, he couldn't think of anything else to add.
"That's it?" Asked Sherlock. "I merely let you and John do whatever you want - in *my* room - and keep quiet about it?"
"That's it, unless John thinks of anything else in the meantime in which case we'd have to have an amendment."
"Done. I'll leave you and John to work out the details; I have work to do."
John watched Sherlock disappear back into the kitchen before abandoning his empty mug on the floor by his chair and taking a seat next to Cally on the sofa.
"So we're really going to do this, then? For Sherlock?"
"Not for Sherlock; for us. Oh we are going to have so much fun." Cally was almost bubbling with enthusiasm and her smile was infectious. John hated to put a damper on things but he did have one point to make.
"You do realise that once you've gone there is *no* way that Sherlock will be able to stay quiet," he said.
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. I could gag him for you, if you wanted."
John laughed, until he realised she wasn't joking.
"No, it's all right. I'll deal with Sherlock in my own way if he's being obnoxious; I've had plenty of practice after all."
"I can imagine. So, shall we say next week after pub night?"
"After?"
"A little bit of Dutch courage won't do any harm. As long as it is only a little bit."
"I'll make sure it is only a bit, then."
It wasn't until John had seen her out of the front door that he realised he was knackered. He stuck his head into the kitchen to tell Sherlock he was off to bed, but he couldn't tell if Sherlock had heard him or not - his eyes had remained pressed to the microscope. John didn't really care, as long as he wasn't woken at 4 in the morning.
*
Part 2
This entry was originally posted at http://a-lanart.dreamwidth.org/238926.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Author: A Lanart
Character(s): Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, OFC.
Pairing: Watson/OFC,
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: R this part
Spoilers/Warnings: No spoilers. Mild BDSM references and a touch of voyeurism
Summary: Sherlock makes a request. John is not happy.
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes belongs to ACD, though this incarnation is the responsibility of a certain Mr Moffat and Mr Gattis (thanks guys!) and the BBC.
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made; this is just for fun!
The OFC is mine.
Title from the song by The Wedding Anniversary
A/N: Idea from this prompt at Make me a Monday week 72 the relevant bit for my muses being includes John's outrage at being a test subject once again, a self-possessed OFC who can focus on John without being distracted by the weirdo measuring her responses. Not an exact fill, but the OFC is there. Cally was first introduced in Undisclosed Desires and this fic takes place at the same time as UD, just before the last scene.
~*~
Sex and Paranoia
*
Living in the same flat as Sherlock Holmes was akin to living in a seismically active area and about as unpredictable but John counted himself lucky that the times when it was more like being in a war zone weren't that frequent. Sherlock had learned the hard way that making things literally - instead of metaphorically - explode when John was in the flat, especially when he was half asleep and without warning him in advance, was not a good idea; the bruises had taken a while to heal.
John had learned to deal with most of Sherlock's odd requests with equanimity as he stood a much better chance of explaining to Sherlock just *why* he wouldn't do something if he remained calm and appealed to logic; not that Sherlock always understood what John thought of as logic, particularly if interpersonal relationships were involved. Occasionally though, Sherlock did an admirable job of disrupting John's hard-won and almost stoic calm. He'd thought it was bad enough when Sherlock barged in on him having some 'personal' time, despite him having locked the door - he'd not heard the tell-tale sounds of the lock being picked as his mind had been elsewhere as he focused on the task in hand - but Sherlock's latest request really took the damned biscuit.
"You want me to *what*?!" It was a pub night, and John had just picked his coat up ready to head out when Sherlock had dropped his bombshell. If John hadn't been too gobsmacked to move he would have stomped across the room to shake some sense into Sherlock where he sprawled indolently on the sofa.
"You heard me correctly, I'm sure. I need to observe your physiological response to erotic stimuli when carried out by another person; ergo, I require you to bring someone here, where I can undertake the observation in a more controlled environment, and engage in sexual intercourse."
The sound of his coat hitting the floor after it had slid out of his suddenly wooden fingers roused John somewhat from his complete and utter stupefaction.
"Sherlock! You can't just…"
"A woman would be better, I think, but if you were so inclined a man would be acceptable for the…."
"Sherlock!!!" John felt like he was almost screaming but it appeared to at least gain a proportion of Sherlock's attention. He took a couple of deep breaths in an effort to bring himself under some semblance of control before he said anything else. "That is not something you should be asking of a… a friend, believe me."
"I don't see why not, I couldn't ask anyone else could I?"
John wanted to bash his head against the door frame in an effort to try and knock some sense into *himself*; Sherlock's logic sometimes left him feeling like he was flailing in quicksand.
"Well, no. I suppose it is better that you asked me rather than anyone else," he said. The smile that sneaked across Sherlock's face at that looked far too dangerous for John's liking so he raised a hand to halt its progression. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to indulge you. Some things just aren't done, Sherlock and you spying on my sex life is one of them."
"It wouldn't be spying if you and the other party were aware of my presence from the outset, it would be…"
"Sherlock! Enough!" John bent to pick up his coat from the floor and struggled into it; his hands still felt a bit wooden. "I'm going out for a drink with the guys and I expect you to have put this.. this *ludicrous* idea out of your mind by the time I get back. Is that clear?"
"Yes, John."
He gave Sherlock a narrow eyed glare - he didn't trust the bland meekness of that tone of voice - and opened the door. It was an effort not to slam it behind him but he reminded himself that it wasn't Mrs Hudson's doors fault that Sherlock was such a git.
*
John was not in a mood to be sociable when he arrived at the pub and he was sure that was probably obvious from his face as he wasn't met with the usual cheery greeting.
"Sherlock?" Greg asked with a sigh.
"Sherlock," John agreed and concentrated fiercely on the pint that Greg shoved under his nose. He was left alone for the entirety of his first pint and he was halfway through his second before he surfaced enough to take note of his table mates. He caught Greg's eyes and gave him a nod that was answered with a quick smile but no-one attempted to leave the gaggle of people at the other end of the table and take one of the empty seats next to him and that was fine with John. A few minutes and a couple more mouthfuls of beer later he started to take notice of who had come out for the night and was still in the process when someone sat next to him. The pink drink would have been indicator enough of identity, even without the be-ringed hand with metallic purple nails that was wrapped round it. She was obviously on a day off; she never wore jewellery or nail varnish if she'd been on duty. Her hair was like a dark blue cloud around her face.
"Cally."
"John."
They drank in silence for a while and he felt himself begin to unwind; it was a relief. He stretched a little and sighed; dealing with Sherlock would give him a stroke one of these days.
"So, what's he done now?" Cally asked with studied casualness, it was the tone of voice she used to mean "if you want to tell me, I'll listen, but don't feel obliged if you don't think you can share" and John appreciated her tact. He wasn't sure if he *wanted* to tell anyone but if he did, Cally would probably be his first choice; Greg was too close to Sherlock for John to feel completely comfortable about offloading some of his issues on him, even if he shared John's exasperation with Sherlock more often than not.
"Oh just him being his usual self," he replied. It wasn't that far from the truth.
Cally let him get away with the answer for another swallow of beer.
"I don't think so. Oh he may have been being his usual tactful self but whatever it was has rattled you badly. He's not done *that* for a while, John." He glanced at her for a moment to find that behind the make up she just looked concerned and John felt a little bit more of his bad mood fall away under her regard.
"I'm not sure where I would start," he said.
She smiled at him. "The beginning is usually a good place."
"I… Ok. Um… Yeah." John glanced at the rest of the table to find them totally uninterested in what he and Cally were sharing as they listened to - and participated in - Greg arguing with, of all people, Sally Donovan about Star Trek. He'd never realised Greg was a closet Trekkie but he couldn't say it exactly surprised him.
"So?"
"I'm not sure you really want to know, it's not the sort of thing you discuss with friends in a pub."
"John, I'm a nurse; we talk about diarrhoea over curry. Plus, I'm a nosy cow and I'm absolutely *dying* of curiosity."
John couldn't help but smile, maybe Cally would help him gain a different perspective. He decided there was no other way to go about this than to go for broke. He sighed.
"Sherlock had a proposition to make before I left."
"Good on him, I didn't think he was interested..."
"Not *that* sort of proposition. Well, not quite that sort of proposition; he still isn't interested in.. ah.. indulging in certain things…"
"You mean sex."
"Cally!"
"Sorry. Go on."
"You're right though, but while he isn't interested on his own behalf it seems he is from a purely scientific point of view. He apparently wants to observe my 'physiological response to erotic stimuli when carried out by another person' - his words, not mine."
"By another person, hmm? Oh don't tell me he walked in on you tossing off."
John felt his ears go red, but he didn't reply.
"He did, didn't he? And now he wants to *watch* you with someone else? Bloody Sherlock's a voyeur; fancy that." She sounded far too happy for John's liking.
"You aren't making this any easier," he said.
"Sorry." This time Cally did sound genuinely apologetic and he dared another glance at her; her expression was thoughtful rather than the mocking one he'd partly expected. She noticed him looking and gave him a smile. "So what did you say?"
"I told him to forget it."
"Do you honestly think he will?"
"No, and that's the problem."
"You are going to have one huge fucking elephant in the room."
"Exactly."
"Well, I can think of one solution."
"You can?" John hoped he didn't sound too desperate.
"Yeah. Me." John felt like he'd been hit in the head with a chair but Cally just grinned at him. "I like you, I like sex with you and it would be good to do it in a bed for a change, so why not?"
"Cally, you can't honestly…"
"John, shut up a minute."
John closed his mouth and glared at her.
"Thank you," she said. "Now think; where did you first meet me?"
"At a crime scene."
"I said think, John. What was special about that crime scene?"
"You were doing first aid in a corset. No, don't "John, shut up" me again, that was the first thing I noticed; it was kind of hot. So you were wearing the corset because it was a.. fetish club, right?"
"Close. Did you look upstairs at all?"
"I didn't get the chance after.. " After he'd fucked her against the wall in the disabled loo without even knowing her name. He gave her a shamefaced grin. She grinned back.
"You might have found it interesting. Upstairs was the 'play' area; it was a BDSM club night. You do know what I mean by BDSM, don't you?"
John mumbled his way through the meaning of the acronym but as she nodded in agreement he counted it as a win.
"I still don't see what this has got to do with what Sherlock said - or your solution," he said.
"Trust me, it's very relevant. I think I'm safe in assuming it's not the thought of sex with me that's the problem."
"God, no. Definitely no problem there." John had to admit he rather liked the idea of sex in a proper bed with Cally and he was certain the stupid smile on his face would confirm what he'd said.
"You don't like the idea of being watched, then."
"Of course I don't… not in such a… a.. clinical way at least."
"Heat of the moment?"
"Maybe. I don't know - it's never been an issue for God's sake." He knew he sounded irritated, but her line of questioning was not exactly making him comfortable.
"In a BDSM scene you learn to focus on who is sharing that scene with you, no matter how many other people are watching; it's essential. This wouldn't be exactly the same but if you gave me half a chance and I bet I could get you to forget Sherlock was there. I'm very focused when I put my mind to it."
"I.. I'm sure you are." John licked his suddenly dry lips and reached for his drink.
"Like the idea, do you?" she asked.
"A bit more than I did."
"Enough to consider it?"
"Maybe." His mind leapt from A to C without stopping at B. "You can't mean tonight!"
"No, of course I don't mean tonight. Maybe next week - gives you time to get used to the idea but not long enough to wriggle out of it. Plus, I need to talk to Sherlock. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it *my* way and some boundaries will have to be set. He has to realise that if he steps over those boundaries I will kick his arse so hard he won't be able to sit down for a week."
"You're really serious about this," he said. It was less of surprise than he thought it would be.
"Never been more serious in my life. Having fun can be a serious business but it doesn't stop me from wanting to have fun whenever I can. Life's too short."
John couldn't help but stare at the mischievous grin on her face for a moment; then something clicked. God, he was stupid sometimes.
"You're… you *want* Sherlock to watch. You like the idea!" He hoped he didn't sound as accusatory to her as he did in his own ears. She defused that worry when the grin stretched wider across her face.
"Guilty as charged. I like the idea of proving to him that for certain messy, human things he really can't be the centre of attention, even if he's right there in the room with us." She paused, glanced aside at him. "And you are *definitely* interested…" John grabbed for his pint again. He wasn't going to give her an answer, he didn't think he had to when he'd been unconsciously shifting in his chair to relieve the pressure of his jeans on a certain part of his anatomy. She chuckled softly, before scrambling out of her chair and heading towards the bar for refills.
As if her departure had been a signal, Greg appeared at his other side - the conversation about Star Trek obviously over - and settled himself into the chair.
"Better?" Greg asked.
John nodded, giving him a quick smile.
"Good. Need me to set up another drugs bust sometime soon?"
"Not this time. I think Cally is all set to give him a piece of her mind," John said.
"I'm staying well away, then. Wouldn't want to get on her bad side by mistake."
There was a clink as Cally returned with the drinks, placed them on the table and sat back down in her own chair.
"And that, Greg, is the most sensible thing I've heard you say all night," she said with a smile.
John couldn't remember what they talked about after that, just let the comfortable flow of conversation wash over and around him until it was time to leave. He found himself strangely nervous as he left the pub with Cally, wondering just what she would say to Sherlock and what he would do in response. She linked her arm through his as they walked down the road.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "Just go with the flow and it'll be fine. Stop me if I say something you really don't agree with, though. OK?"
"OK," he agreed.
John trudged up the stairs up to 221b trying not to worry about what would greet him on the other side of the door. It seemed fairly quiet which was generally a good sign but he didn't like to make assumptions, not where Sherlock was concerned.
Sherlock was in the kitchen, eyes glued to the microscope on the table.
"Ah John, if you could just…"
John would have no idea what Sherlock was going to ask - probably to make tea, knowing him - as at that moment he raised his head and caught sight of Cally. If John hadn't been so bothered by the whole thing he would have enjoyed the experience of Sherlock being rendered speechless.
"Sherlock."
"Cally."
John felt like a fish out of water as he watched the two of them size each other up. Cally broke first, and smiled.
"Mind if I make a cuppa?" She asked.
"Help yourself."
John hung up his coat and watched as she made tea for the 3 of them, fixing each mug just right which puzzled him until he remembered that she'd got them tea when they'd been in A&E; just a good memory, then. Mug in hand, John retreated to his chair by the fire and Cally took a seat on the sofa. John was surprised when Sherlock followed them out and perched on his own chair.
The silence was uncomfortable.
"Don't mind the elephant," Cally said. "I'll be sending it on its way soon enough."
John thought the perplexed expression on Sherlock's face was almost worth his own discomfort. Almost.
"She's here about your proposed… experiment," John said carefully.
Sherlock frowned. "I thought I was supposed to put the 'ludicrous idea' out of my mind?"
"Left up to John, you would have had to. I had a different idea but it means you'll have to agree to some terms and conditions."
John tried to make himself disappear into his chair in anticipation of them discussing him as if he wasn't there. He was used to it from Sherlock of course but it didn't mean he was looking forward to the experience.
"Go on," Sherlock said.
"One: if we agree to do this, it has to be in your room, Sherlock. I have no qualms about invading your privacy in this situation but to force it on John would be wrong."
John sighed with relief, that was something he'd worried about as his room up the stairs was just about his only refuge from Sherlock, even if he did pick the lock.
"Two: we are in control of this, not you. If either of us decide we aren't happy then it doesn't happen. If we want to stop at any point, we stop."
John risked a glance at Sherlock; he was doing nothing more sinister than sipping at his tea, though he gave a nod to Cally to indicate that she should continue, which John thought was hopeful.
"Three: you keep your mouth shut. You wanted to observe; that's fine, observe. Offering your opinion on what you observe is not required and will run the risk of ending the 'experiment' earlier than you might wish. You may answer if either of us speaks to you first."
Sherlock looked slightly pained at the last condition, but he still nodded his agreement. John hid his smile in his tea.
"Four: you pay for my taxi fare home afterwards; I don't think it would be a good idea for me to stay. Oh and just let me add that if you do try to take control of this, Sherlock, you will regret it; that much I can promise you. I know exactly how to use that riding crop I saw on your desk."
With that, she finished, and settled back into the cushions of the sofa. John noticed that the silence that met the end of Cally's terms and conditions had a different quality than the earlier one; it was… expectant. She glanced at him and he nodded carefully, he couldn't think of anything else to add.
"That's it?" Asked Sherlock. "I merely let you and John do whatever you want - in *my* room - and keep quiet about it?"
"That's it, unless John thinks of anything else in the meantime in which case we'd have to have an amendment."
"Done. I'll leave you and John to work out the details; I have work to do."
John watched Sherlock disappear back into the kitchen before abandoning his empty mug on the floor by his chair and taking a seat next to Cally on the sofa.
"So we're really going to do this, then? For Sherlock?"
"Not for Sherlock; for us. Oh we are going to have so much fun." Cally was almost bubbling with enthusiasm and her smile was infectious. John hated to put a damper on things but he did have one point to make.
"You do realise that once you've gone there is *no* way that Sherlock will be able to stay quiet," he said.
"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. I could gag him for you, if you wanted."
John laughed, until he realised she wasn't joking.
"No, it's all right. I'll deal with Sherlock in my own way if he's being obnoxious; I've had plenty of practice after all."
"I can imagine. So, shall we say next week after pub night?"
"After?"
"A little bit of Dutch courage won't do any harm. As long as it is only a little bit."
"I'll make sure it is only a bit, then."
It wasn't until John had seen her out of the front door that he realised he was knackered. He stuck his head into the kitchen to tell Sherlock he was off to bed, but he couldn't tell if Sherlock had heard him or not - his eyes had remained pressed to the microscope. John didn't really care, as long as he wasn't woken at 4 in the morning.
*
Part 2
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