Sherlock - fic - What a piece of work is a man, Sherlock/John, NC-17
Title - What a piece of work is a man
Author - laurab1
Pairing - Sherlock/John
Rating - NC-17 aka 18
Warnings, kinks & contents - vaguely cyberpunk au, human!John/android!Sherlock
Length - ~1000 words
Spoilers - general series
Summary - Sherlock Holmes, the infamous android who deviated from his intended purpose.
Disclaimer - Alas, none of these people are entirely mine. This version of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, the BBC et al. However, Sherlock Holmes as created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is in the public domain.
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
A/N - Written for this prompt on sherlockbbc-fic
What a piece of work is a man
by Laura
Sherlock had never expected this to happen. It wasn’t supposed to, generally. Humans didn’t tend to interact with androids in such intimate ways. But his particular human is Dr John Watson, and he’s Sherlock Holmes, the infamous android who deviated from his intended purpose, “went rogue”, set up home in the outside world, and became a consulting detective. The government shouldn’t have insisted he was built with such advanced artificial intelligence, should they? Did they really expect him to spend the rest of his commissioned existence solving problems just for them? Dull!
So here they are, on Sherlock’s bed, shirtless, kissing.
Well, they were. John’s taken his lips from Sherlock’s, and is kissing a path down his neck, his chest. “God, look at you,” he says, voice thick. “Just about perfect.” A pause, then he continues: “That’s not me slighting you, by the way. It’s me reining in that massive ego of yours just a little.”
Sherlock can’t see John’s face, but he’s sure to be grinning to himself, so he has to smirk in reply. His just about perfect nervous system has just about perfect nerve endings on his just about perfect nipples. A kiss to his left one, of course (heart), and a just about perfect electric jolt starts making its way through his body. But at his manufactured navel, the jolt fades into nothingness. Sherlock sighs in frustration. It shouldn’t stop, he’d made sure it wouldn’t stop!
John ends his ministrations to Sherlock’s nipple, and moves back up his body. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he comforts. “We knew this wouldn’t necessarily be easy, and I promise we’ll work it out. Okay?”
There is no doubt in Sherlock’s mind that they will, because he knows more than John does, so he nods, and slips a hand around John’s neck, pulling him close again. Next time, he will be a little more prepared. He will place John’s (warm, human) hand on his… attachments, and the jolt will continue on to where it should. For now, though, they go back to the definitely perfect kissing.
***
It had been three days’ work, while John was at the surgery, making his additional parts and attaching them to his body. He’d gone to all the trouble of outwitting his program, so Sherlock decided he may as well use said program to pursue that which had not already been granted to him: sexual intimacy.
Because he’d met John, and deviated even further from his original purpose by falling in love with him. And while he had been sure that John would not mind what he looked like when they were finally naked with each other, the slight bulge he had been manufactured with, to “look right”, just wasn’t enough, as far as Sherlock was concerned. If he made himself look even more right, then who knew what would happen?
So he’d read book after book on anatomy and sex. A phone call to Mycroft got him a piece of android skin and all the other items required. With the multi-purpose laser tool, he’d cut open his lower body. Very slowly and very carefully, he’d attached the wires of his self-made cock and balls to his internal electronics. He might be a doctor, but he’s also a soldier, so he may as well name the parts as that aspect of John’s personality would, Sherlock had decided. Cock and balls it was, then, rather than the anatomical terms. A few passes of the laser, and he’d healed himself.
Leaving the kitchen, Sherlock had gone to his room, and his bed. A particularly passionate kiss they’d shared a few days ago had played out in vivid detail in his mind. And soon, he’d had in his hand the evidence of just how very rogue he’d gone. An electronic orgasm had been followed by giggling. After all, what other possible response was there, to that?
***
Home after another successful chase, and adrenaline’s made sure one thing has led to another. In Sherlock’s room, John’s already naked, and he is about to be. What will John think when he gets a little more than he’s expecting? Sally Donovan is one of many who wonder what they possibly see in each other, but John repeatedly tells the sergeant that he doesn’t care that Sherlock isn’t human.
“Near enough, though,” he always says, and Sherlock always smiles to himself. It’s all fine. “Shall we get on with looking at the body Lestrade asked us to come and see, then?”
Knelt between his legs, thumbs at his waist, John is slowly dragging Sherlock’s blue silk boxers from his tilted up hips, down his legs. Then there’s the surprise. John gaps; they lock eyes, briefly. Two seconds later, his boxers are on the floor, and John’s lips are once again on his.
It’s a very hard, very quick kiss, and Sherlock also gasps. “You made yourself a cock,” John says, smiling. “Of course you bloody did. It’s beautiful, Sherlock.”
He’d hoped that would be the response. “Thank you, John.”
Then John’s kissing him again. When he pulls away, Sherlock has a slightly different smirk to his usual one on his lips. John tips his head to the side, raises his eyebrows, silently asking a question.
“It works, more or less,” Sherlock smugly says, taking John’s hand in his, and placing it on his cock. “Shall we see just how well?”
“Christ, yes,” John enthusiastically replies, moving his hand, touching him just like Sherlock suspects he touches himself. He leans in again, plants a kiss to his left nipple, sucks a little. The circuit is complete, internally and externally. But then John breaks it. Their eyes lock again, and he says, “I promise, I’ll make you come.”
“Go on, then.”
When he does, it’s so much better than it was with his own hand. So Sherlock eventually has to ask, “Why don’t we conduct an experiment and see how fast my gone rogue, so very deviated from its original purpose and programming advanced AI can make you come?”
“Oh, God, yes.”
-end-
Author - laurab1
Pairing - Sherlock/John
Rating - NC-17 aka 18
Warnings, kinks & contents - vaguely cyberpunk au, human!John/android!Sherlock
Length - ~1000 words
Spoilers - general series
Summary - Sherlock Holmes, the infamous android who deviated from his intended purpose.
Disclaimer - Alas, none of these people are entirely mine. This version of Sherlock Holmes belongs to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, the BBC et al. However, Sherlock Holmes as created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is in the public domain.
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
A/N - Written for this prompt on sherlockbbc-fic
What a piece of work is a man
by Laura
Sherlock had never expected this to happen. It wasn’t supposed to, generally. Humans didn’t tend to interact with androids in such intimate ways. But his particular human is Dr John Watson, and he’s Sherlock Holmes, the infamous android who deviated from his intended purpose, “went rogue”, set up home in the outside world, and became a consulting detective. The government shouldn’t have insisted he was built with such advanced artificial intelligence, should they? Did they really expect him to spend the rest of his commissioned existence solving problems just for them? Dull!
So here they are, on Sherlock’s bed, shirtless, kissing.
Well, they were. John’s taken his lips from Sherlock’s, and is kissing a path down his neck, his chest. “God, look at you,” he says, voice thick. “Just about perfect.” A pause, then he continues: “That’s not me slighting you, by the way. It’s me reining in that massive ego of yours just a little.”
Sherlock can’t see John’s face, but he’s sure to be grinning to himself, so he has to smirk in reply. His just about perfect nervous system has just about perfect nerve endings on his just about perfect nipples. A kiss to his left one, of course (heart), and a just about perfect electric jolt starts making its way through his body. But at his manufactured navel, the jolt fades into nothingness. Sherlock sighs in frustration. It shouldn’t stop, he’d made sure it wouldn’t stop!
John ends his ministrations to Sherlock’s nipple, and moves back up his body. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he comforts. “We knew this wouldn’t necessarily be easy, and I promise we’ll work it out. Okay?”
There is no doubt in Sherlock’s mind that they will, because he knows more than John does, so he nods, and slips a hand around John’s neck, pulling him close again. Next time, he will be a little more prepared. He will place John’s (warm, human) hand on his… attachments, and the jolt will continue on to where it should. For now, though, they go back to the definitely perfect kissing.
***
It had been three days’ work, while John was at the surgery, making his additional parts and attaching them to his body. He’d gone to all the trouble of outwitting his program, so Sherlock decided he may as well use said program to pursue that which had not already been granted to him: sexual intimacy.
Because he’d met John, and deviated even further from his original purpose by falling in love with him. And while he had been sure that John would not mind what he looked like when they were finally naked with each other, the slight bulge he had been manufactured with, to “look right”, just wasn’t enough, as far as Sherlock was concerned. If he made himself look even more right, then who knew what would happen?
So he’d read book after book on anatomy and sex. A phone call to Mycroft got him a piece of android skin and all the other items required. With the multi-purpose laser tool, he’d cut open his lower body. Very slowly and very carefully, he’d attached the wires of his self-made cock and balls to his internal electronics. He might be a doctor, but he’s also a soldier, so he may as well name the parts as that aspect of John’s personality would, Sherlock had decided. Cock and balls it was, then, rather than the anatomical terms. A few passes of the laser, and he’d healed himself.
Leaving the kitchen, Sherlock had gone to his room, and his bed. A particularly passionate kiss they’d shared a few days ago had played out in vivid detail in his mind. And soon, he’d had in his hand the evidence of just how very rogue he’d gone. An electronic orgasm had been followed by giggling. After all, what other possible response was there, to that?
***
Home after another successful chase, and adrenaline’s made sure one thing has led to another. In Sherlock’s room, John’s already naked, and he is about to be. What will John think when he gets a little more than he’s expecting? Sally Donovan is one of many who wonder what they possibly see in each other, but John repeatedly tells the sergeant that he doesn’t care that Sherlock isn’t human.
“Near enough, though,” he always says, and Sherlock always smiles to himself. It’s all fine. “Shall we get on with looking at the body Lestrade asked us to come and see, then?”
Knelt between his legs, thumbs at his waist, John is slowly dragging Sherlock’s blue silk boxers from his tilted up hips, down his legs. Then there’s the surprise. John gaps; they lock eyes, briefly. Two seconds later, his boxers are on the floor, and John’s lips are once again on his.
It’s a very hard, very quick kiss, and Sherlock also gasps. “You made yourself a cock,” John says, smiling. “Of course you bloody did. It’s beautiful, Sherlock.”
He’d hoped that would be the response. “Thank you, John.”
Then John’s kissing him again. When he pulls away, Sherlock has a slightly different smirk to his usual one on his lips. John tips his head to the side, raises his eyebrows, silently asking a question.
“It works, more or less,” Sherlock smugly says, taking John’s hand in his, and placing it on his cock. “Shall we see just how well?”
“Christ, yes,” John enthusiastically replies, moving his hand, touching him just like Sherlock suspects he touches himself. He leans in again, plants a kiss to his left nipple, sucks a little. The circuit is complete, internally and externally. But then John breaks it. Their eyes lock again, and he says, “I promise, I’ll make you come.”
“Go on, then.”
When he does, it’s so much better than it was with his own hand. So Sherlock eventually has to ask, “Why don’t we conduct an experiment and see how fast my gone rogue, so very deviated from its original purpose and programming advanced AI can make you come?”
“Oh, God, yes.”
-end-