Two Ships Pass In the Night (Sherlock/John, NC-17, K-21)
Two Ships Pass In The Night (Sherlock/John, NC-17, K-21)
Author: buttsnax
Fandom: BBC’s Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: negligible
Warnings: communism
Summary: This is a quick fill for the following kink prompt:
John and Sherlock are in a safe, sane, and consensual relationship. One is a sub, the other is a dom (you get to choose who). They use a safeword. They communicate before and after trying anything new. They do after-care. And they're madly in love and very happy with their life.
One day, someone notices bruising on the one who is the sub, and grows concerned. They contact the police (or perhaps it's one of the Yarders who notice), and they decide to hold an "intervention," wherein John and Sherlock are spoken to separately.
What follows is the most embarrassing conversation of John & Sherlock's lives. It's eventually revealed that yes, they're fucking, and yes they're in fact kinky as hell, what's it to you? They're grown adults and they had an adult conversation about it and their safeword is "cabbage," ffs.
You can read the original prompt here: http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/21766.html?thread=128506118#t128506118
-xxx-
Inspector Greg Lestrade reviewed the security footage one last time.
“It’s clearly him,” said Winston, prominent CEO of Harrington Defense Enterprises. He paced back and forth, trying to make sense of what he had seen.
“Yes,” said Lestrade with a sigh. “It does seem so.”
“Do you think he’s a spy?” asked Winston, wringing his hands nervously. “He could be a KGB agent.”
“Relax,” said Lestrade. “Don’t jump to any conclusions. If he was KGB I don’t think he’d have come down to the station so easily. We don’t know anything yet.”
Winston look unconvinced.
“I’m going to go talk to him now,” said Lestrade, stopping the tape. “Would you like to be there?”
“Yes,” said Winston, who looked no less pensive. “I suppose I should be.”
The two men opened the door to the interrogation room. Lestrade sat down across from a man with short, sandy-blonde hair and blue eyes. The man looked about the room nervously. Winston sat off to the side, notepad in hand.
The man under suspicion cleared his throat.
“Hello sir,” he said.
“John Watson,” said Lestrade, reading a document from the file in front of him.
The man nodded.
Lestrade continued to scan the document. “I’m Inspector Lestrade. In the corner over there is Phil Winston, CEO of Harrington Defense Enterprises.”
“Yes, I know,” said John. He appeared to be sweating.
“I understand you work for Mr. Winston,” said Lestrade.
John nodded again.
“Can you tell me what you do there?” Lestrade asked, tossing John a softball question to warm him up.
“Yes, sir,” said John. “I’m the Director of Marketing.”
Lestrade finally looked up from his papers. “And you’ve been director there for five years now, is that correct?”
“Yes,” said John, closing his eyes.
“Well,” said Winston, clearing his throat nervously.
Lestrade put the file down and leaned back in his chair. “Mr. Watson, two days ago one of the technicians working on project codename SHERLOCK found several loose hull plates on the captured K-class soviet submarine.”
“Oh god,” John muttered. He hung his head in his hands.
“We reviewed the security footage,” said Lestrade as he noted John’s reaction. “You were seen entering and exiting the sub at frequent intervals.”
“You’re the director of marketing, John,” Winston blurted. “What the hell were you doing on that boat?”
“It’s alright,” said Lestrade soothingly. “Let him speak.”
“I . . .” John began. “This . . . this is very hard to say.”
He paused to collect himself.
“The K-class submarine . . . his name is Sherlock,” he said finally.
“That’s the name of the project, yes,” said Winston, butting in again. “You know this. We were going to reverse engineer a captured Soviet submarine.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” said John. “But that’s also the sub’s name.”
Winston’s faced paled. Lestrade blinked a few times. This was going to be interesting.
John took a deep breath. “Sherlock and I are having sex.”
His declaration was met with silence.
John took that as a sign to continue. “It all started when I snuck into the dock area. At first we just talked, got to know each other a bit. He was so smart and really quite sweet--just misunderstood.” He bit his lip. “Then it escalated. I would stroke his hull; he liked it, he told me as much. Soon I was taking my clothes off, and, well, one time I kinda rubbed up against him. It chafed at first, but then it felt so good, and I just kept going and going. After a while he asked me to hit him, and even though it scared me, I did it, just to please him. I called him a filthy communist.”
Lestrade could tell John was becoming aroused.
John’s speech quickened. He appeared almost manic. “And then I rammed my prick right between his secondary and tertiary steam manifolds.”
Flushed, he kept going. “It was amazing. I couldn’t stay away. Things became rough . . . more intense. Sherlock liked it when I shut off his pipes--he found the denial pleasurable, but he always begged me to open his valve again. God, I remember the way he’d gush steam all over me. It was honest-to-god life-changing.”
John smiled. “I never thought I’d be into subs this way; especially not Soviet ones. I mean, the Pravda class?” He shook his head and laughed. “Come on.”
Lestrade finally found his voice. “You had sex with our captured, top-secret Soviet submarine.”
“Our safeword is ‘cabbage,'” said John.
Lestrade wasn’t sure his eyes could widen any more than they already had. “You had sex. With a submarine. Whom you believe is named Sherlock.”
“We’re so in love,” sighed John.
Neither Lestrade nor Winston spoke for a moment.
Lestrade cleared his throat.
“How the hell did the sub’s . . . Sherlock’s hull plates get damaged like that?” he asked finally.
“He--well, we like rough sex,” said John, no longer ashamed.
“Each plate is six tons!” exclaimed Winston, speaking up.
“Really rough sex,” John said.
“Winston, would you excuse us for a moment?” said Lestrade, turning to the CEO.
Winston opened his mouth to protest but couldn’t articulate an argument. He stood up and left the interrogation room, his face an unreadable flurry of emotions.
“John,” said Lestrade, after Winston had left. “I understand your job has you under a lot of stress. It’s just you and me here now--tell me what really happened.”
Lestrade placed his hand on the table between them, a signal of trust.
John looked at Lestrade’s hand skeptically. “The truth about . . . the hull plates?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Lestrade, encouragingly.
“Look,” said John. “This whole thing’s embarrassing for both of us. I did say Sherlock and I liked really, really rough sex. And I don’t like to brag, but I’m pretty big down there.” John winked at Lestrade.
Lestrade’s mouth fell open, but he quickly regained his composure.
John didn’t take that as a sign to stop. “I was giving it to him really good--right in the bulkhead, and- “
“Okay, that’s enough,” said Lestrade, pushing himself away from the table. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I-”
A voice interrupted them from over the intercom.
“I wouldn’t be so hasty to dismiss John’s confession,” said the voice. Although Lestrade had never heard a submarine speak before he knew at once that the voice was Sherlock. “John and I are in an open relationship.”
Sherlock continued. “If you’d like to join us, we’d love to have a threesome with you someday.”
John waggled his eyebrows in Lestrade’s direction.
“Oh, hell yes,” said Lestrade, already hard. “Count me in.”