Fic: Angle of Refraction (Sherlock Holmes movies, John/Mary/Sherlock, 1000 words, Adult/Explicit)
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made.
Summary: Not a pleasantry. An invitation. From her, not from John. No, from her and John. She would not make the offer without consulting him. Refusal, things continue on. He does not lose John.
Author's Note: schuyler's review of Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows included the suggestion that they "all bang Sherlock." This is that story. schuyler was also kind enough to do a read-through and let me know I had the tone right.
Two degrees to the left. She doesn't see him. Step to the right. She looks. He smiles. She raises her eyebrows. Not a challenge. Question.
"Are you coming to bed?" Mary asks.
"I think you'll find," Sherlock tells her, "that I don't keep conventional hours." He gestures at the table, stack of books, test tubes, meant to give the impression of busyness and occupation. She lets him be when he's busy.
Tonight, she defies expectation.
"One hears so many things," she says, "when one is a young woman, about what happens in the marriage bed. Frightening things for the most part."
Defies convention. Not expected. Purpose? Unbalance him, prove herself to him, something as yet undiscovered?
"My marriage bed has not been like that. John is quite skilled in pleasure."
Improper for a woman of her station.
"Are you coming to bed?"
Not a pleasantry. An invitation. From her, not from John. No, from her and John. She would not make the offer without consulting him. Refusal, things continue on. He does not lose John.
"No, Mrs. Watson, I am not."
Turn to the experiment and books. She leaves. He is alone for the evening. They disturb him when they come down for breakfast.
"Mmm," she says. "I did not expect you to be so conventional."
False comment meant to goad him into doing as she wishes. It works. He goes upstairs. John expects them. John is skilled in pleasure.
"It worked." John cups Mary's cheek in his palm, kisses her. It is a sweet kiss, not the kind Sherlock ever gives.
Step toward John. John releases Mary. Be kissed by John. Mary does not object.
John steps away from the kiss to unbutton Mary's dress while she pulls the pins out of her hair. She stands before them in her shift with her hair falling over her shoulders. She is not remarkable, but she is pretty.
Disrobe. Take off John's clothes. Mary takes off shift. Be kissed by John.
"Come to bed," Mary says. She tosses bedclothes aside to bare the sheet. She lays on the bed. John goes to her and lays his body over hers. He kisses her with a familiarity that Sherlock moves closer to see.
"You too," John says. He pulls Sherlock onto the bed, next to Mary.
Kneel over her. Examine her face. Touch her breasts. John is a doctor. He has prepared for this moment.
John's fingers are warm, but the oil he is using is still cool. Mary's gaze is intent on Sherlock's face. She touches him, fingers on his cheek.
John is a doctor, familiar with anatomy. Shift to the right. John's fingers slide harder. There is a stretch. Push back into it. Stretch more. More touch. Remember Mary.
Sherlock slides his hand down Mary's stomach to find the space between her legs. She smiles at him, and more when he makes a noise he didn't mean to make.
"You see?" She asks it delicately. "Quite skilled in pleasure."
"Yes," Sherlock says. "It seems you have not exaggerated your husband's skills. Though there are few areas where he is not skilled."
Push into John's fingers. John stops. John's fingers leave. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. More of a stretch. John, again, still.
Sherlock's eyes close when John closes his hands around Sherlock's hips. He does not mean to close them, and it makes Mary laugh.
"There," she says. "Now you may really understand."
Understand, yes.
Meet John's movements. John moves with more force. Forget Mary. Too much to think of all at once.
John slows, stills.
"No." Sherlock reaches, grabs at John, misses, tries again.
"Can you ever just wait?"
Say no. John laughs. Mary laughs. Can't reach John. Kiss Mary.
John finally grasps his prick, lowers him, them, until Sherlock is inside Mary.
"Are you sure this is wise?" Sherlock asks. "Conception is always a possibility."
Mary strokes his hair. "I'm sure it won't matter if either one of you father my children."
A surprise. Enough not to know what happens next.
John kisses his ear. "You're never going to leave us alone. You might as well contribute." He thrusts himself into and out of Sherlock's body, then all the way in, holds tight to Sherlock's hips. He moves, again, this time moving Sherlock in and out of Mary.
"Oh, John," Mary sighs. Her eyes are closed. She is not seeing Sherlock.
"Do you know," John asks, "how to please a woman?"
Do not let John be in control. Move hips from side to side. Mary moans. Touch her with fingers. She moans again.
"Very good," John says. "Very good indeed."
John takes over. His movements are steady and sure. His prick finds places inside Sherlock he didn't know he wanted touched. The movement rocks Sherlock inside Mary's wet heat.
Touch Mary with more pressure. She cries out. Touch her more, faster.
"John!" Mary's body tightens around Sherlock. Just before she pulls him farther into her grip, she murmurs, "Sherlock."
"Yes," John says. His movement becomes erratic. "My love."
Pretend. Take the words. Do not give them back.
"Quite skilled," Mary says with soft affection. "This is not something you need fight." She touches Sherlock, her hands between Sherlock's back and John's chest. "Allow us to bring you pleasure."
Obey her.
John is the last, and he lays himself heavily over Sherlock.
Keep weight off of Mary. Allow John time to recover. Shift to the side. Tip John to Mary's other side.
"Don't run off," John says. He reaches across Mary to touch Sherlock. "You need the sleep."
Stay. In the morning they kiss. There is breakfast at the accustomed hour.
Summary: Not a pleasantry. An invitation. From her, not from John. No, from her and John. She would not make the offer without consulting him. Refusal, things continue on. He does not lose John.
Author's Note: schuyler's review of Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows included the suggestion that they "all bang Sherlock." This is that story. schuyler was also kind enough to do a read-through and let me know I had the tone right.
Two degrees to the left. She doesn't see him. Step to the right. She looks. He smiles. She raises her eyebrows. Not a challenge. Question.
"Are you coming to bed?" Mary asks.
"I think you'll find," Sherlock tells her, "that I don't keep conventional hours." He gestures at the table, stack of books, test tubes, meant to give the impression of busyness and occupation. She lets him be when he's busy.
Tonight, she defies expectation.
"One hears so many things," she says, "when one is a young woman, about what happens in the marriage bed. Frightening things for the most part."
Defies convention. Not expected. Purpose? Unbalance him, prove herself to him, something as yet undiscovered?
"My marriage bed has not been like that. John is quite skilled in pleasure."
Improper for a woman of her station.
"Are you coming to bed?"
Not a pleasantry. An invitation. From her, not from John. No, from her and John. She would not make the offer without consulting him. Refusal, things continue on. He does not lose John.
"No, Mrs. Watson, I am not."
Turn to the experiment and books. She leaves. He is alone for the evening. They disturb him when they come down for breakfast.
"Mmm," she says. "I did not expect you to be so conventional."
False comment meant to goad him into doing as she wishes. It works. He goes upstairs. John expects them. John is skilled in pleasure.
"It worked." John cups Mary's cheek in his palm, kisses her. It is a sweet kiss, not the kind Sherlock ever gives.
Step toward John. John releases Mary. Be kissed by John. Mary does not object.
John steps away from the kiss to unbutton Mary's dress while she pulls the pins out of her hair. She stands before them in her shift with her hair falling over her shoulders. She is not remarkable, but she is pretty.
Disrobe. Take off John's clothes. Mary takes off shift. Be kissed by John.
"Come to bed," Mary says. She tosses bedclothes aside to bare the sheet. She lays on the bed. John goes to her and lays his body over hers. He kisses her with a familiarity that Sherlock moves closer to see.
"You too," John says. He pulls Sherlock onto the bed, next to Mary.
Kneel over her. Examine her face. Touch her breasts. John is a doctor. He has prepared for this moment.
John's fingers are warm, but the oil he is using is still cool. Mary's gaze is intent on Sherlock's face. She touches him, fingers on his cheek.
John is a doctor, familiar with anatomy. Shift to the right. John's fingers slide harder. There is a stretch. Push back into it. Stretch more. More touch. Remember Mary.
Sherlock slides his hand down Mary's stomach to find the space between her legs. She smiles at him, and more when he makes a noise he didn't mean to make.
"You see?" She asks it delicately. "Quite skilled in pleasure."
"Yes," Sherlock says. "It seems you have not exaggerated your husband's skills. Though there are few areas where he is not skilled."
Push into John's fingers. John stops. John's fingers leave. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. More of a stretch. John, again, still.
Sherlock's eyes close when John closes his hands around Sherlock's hips. He does not mean to close them, and it makes Mary laugh.
"There," she says. "Now you may really understand."
Understand, yes.
Meet John's movements. John moves with more force. Forget Mary. Too much to think of all at once.
John slows, stills.
"No." Sherlock reaches, grabs at John, misses, tries again.
"Can you ever just wait?"
Say no. John laughs. Mary laughs. Can't reach John. Kiss Mary.
John finally grasps his prick, lowers him, them, until Sherlock is inside Mary.
"Are you sure this is wise?" Sherlock asks. "Conception is always a possibility."
Mary strokes his hair. "I'm sure it won't matter if either one of you father my children."
A surprise. Enough not to know what happens next.
John kisses his ear. "You're never going to leave us alone. You might as well contribute." He thrusts himself into and out of Sherlock's body, then all the way in, holds tight to Sherlock's hips. He moves, again, this time moving Sherlock in and out of Mary.
"Oh, John," Mary sighs. Her eyes are closed. She is not seeing Sherlock.
"Do you know," John asks, "how to please a woman?"
Do not let John be in control. Move hips from side to side. Mary moans. Touch her with fingers. She moans again.
"Very good," John says. "Very good indeed."
John takes over. His movements are steady and sure. His prick finds places inside Sherlock he didn't know he wanted touched. The movement rocks Sherlock inside Mary's wet heat.
Touch Mary with more pressure. She cries out. Touch her more, faster.
"John!" Mary's body tightens around Sherlock. Just before she pulls him farther into her grip, she murmurs, "Sherlock."
"Yes," John says. His movement becomes erratic. "My love."
Pretend. Take the words. Do not give them back.
"Quite skilled," Mary says with soft affection. "This is not something you need fight." She touches Sherlock, her hands between Sherlock's back and John's chest. "Allow us to bring you pleasure."
Obey her.
John is the last, and he lays himself heavily over Sherlock.
Keep weight off of Mary. Allow John time to recover. Shift to the side. Tip John to Mary's other side.
"Don't run off," John says. He reaches across Mary to touch Sherlock. "You need the sleep."
Stay. In the morning they kiss. There is breakfast at the accustomed hour.