Merry Christmas. Have some porn *runs away*
Brandy and Holly – Sherlock and John want Greg to spend the night with them.
teaser below the cut
It was late Christmas Eve. Molly and Mrs. Hudson had gone a while ago, leaving John, Greg and Sherlock to polish off the Christmas brandy. Greg was smiling at the two of them in their chairs. “Still can’t hold your liquor. John, you’ll ruin the reputation of the Army.”
“Can’t help it,” John giggled. “Sherlock’s fault.” He gave the detective a grin. Sherlock’s eyes went dark. In response to the silent signal, John climbed into his lap and snogged him.
Greg coughed. “Well, I’ll be going then.”
John reached out and snagged his sleeve. “Stay.”
“Are you sure? I mean…” Greg hesitated, looking at the pair.
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock yanked Greg into his lap, barely giving John a moment to vacate. “Sher-!” Greg’s weak protest was cut off by the detective’s tongue in his mouth. For a moment Greg froze, but then he took control, nipping Sherlock’s lip, tangling a hand in his hair. John licked his lips appreciatively as he watched, adjusting his trousers.
Sherlock looked up and met John’s eyes. John kissed Greg’s neck. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” he purred, biting Greg’s ear.
A unilock Christmas present for willietheplaidjacket
Scotch and Snowmen – John’s spending Christmas alone in the dorm…oh right Sherlock Holmes is here too…
teaser below the cut
John Watson stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets as he trudged back to his dorm. The campus was eerie when it was empty like this. But most students had family to go home to over break. John had received special permission to just stay here. It was only a couple weeks and at least this way he could get a head start on studying for next semester. There had been an invite from a teacher for Christmas, but he’d politely turned it down. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the holiday surrounded by happy little kids in a warm little house with a cozy little fire and a loving family. Harry was busy with her girlfriend; there hadn’t even been a phone call in two months and he wasn’t quite sure of her number these days anyways. And it would be a cold day in Hell before he’d spend one more night under his father’s roof.
As he reached the dorm, he looked up and realized there was a light on. Ah, right, Sherlock Holmes was still here too. He did have family to go to, but as far as he understood, they didn’t get on either. Well, maybe they could at least demolish the scotch John had in his room. He didn’t drink often, another legacy of Da, but a holiday was an excellent reason.
He climbed the stairs to his room and went in, hanging up his coat and shaking off the cold. He glanced in the mirror and brushed the lingering snowflakes from his hair before grabbing the scotch from the back of the closet.
Heading back into the hallway, he headed for Sherlock’s room and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he tried again before taking a breath and trying the handle. To his surprise the door was open, and room empty.
Frowning, John closed the door again and looked up and down the hall. Oh. Of course. The light he’d seen from outside wasn’t this room. He called up the memory of the building, looked around a moment, then headed down the hall, knocking on a door one story up and three doors down from where he’d been.
As he raised his hand to knock, he heard the faint sounds of a violin. He froze in place, listening to the beautiful melody. It was like nothing he’d heard before. He was hardly aware he was still standing with his hand raised until the music suddenly stopped and the door was flung open.
“John Watson,” Sherlock glowered down at him. The young man had a fearsome reputation, but John wasn’t particularly scared of anyone. He lowered his hand and smiled at him, offering the bottle of scotch.
Shelter
Fandom: Sherlock
Pairing: Johnlock
Rating: Explicit
Summary: [MerKat RPs series 29] The air raid alarms force two men into a shelter, and each other’s arms.
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe – Historical, Alternate Universe – World War II, Alternate Universe – Different First Meeting, Frottage, Hand Jobs, First Kiss, Kissing, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Top Sherlock, Bottom John, Topping from the Bottom, Public Sex
Read it on AO3
Wearing Kigurumis
Mycroft stopped short as he came into Greg’s flat. “Gregory…you are dressed as a cow.”
Adjusting the hood, Greg turned towards him with a smile. “Glad to know Sherlock isn’t the only observant one. My daughter’s kindergarten class is having a thing.”
“Indeed.” Mycroft looked at him a few moments longer. “Didn’t have a bull costume?”
“Figured you could wear that one.”
Mycroft’s eyes went wide. “Oh dear, I do believe there’s another invasion of Afghanistan to plan.”
Greg turned towards him and kissed him. “Never get involved in a land war in Asia,” he quoted with a smile.
“And never go against a Sicilian when death is on the line,” answered Mycroft. “Still I think I…”
“She’ll be disappointed if you don’t come.” Greg put the costume in his hands.
With a put upon sigh, Mycroft took it from him. “I can only assume the choice of costume means I’ll be topping tonight?”
“Moo,” said Greg, smacking him with his tail.
Day 10 – Animal ears
Predators and prey didn’t mix. This was common wisdom. A relationship between the two would only end in tears, if not worse. But Greg Lestrade, who’d been born of the wolf, had never met a more formidable rabbit then Mycroft Holmes. And Mycroft Holmes, with his stately ears standing tall, had never met a more gentle wolf then Gregory Lestrade.
Greg could tell by the turn of Mycroft’s ears that he was pleased. The day had gone well, then, the secret negotiations Greg knew nothing about. He watched his lover remove his suit coat and carefully roll up his sleeves as he came into the kitchen, eying the bubbling pot on the stove.
“Almost done, love.” Greg smiled. Wolves were not often known as good cooks either, but Mycroft had nothing but praise for him. After giving the pot a stir, he turned and kissed him.
Mycroft scratched just behind the silver ears, making Greg kick involuntarily. He chuckled as Greg pulled away.
“Oi, watch it or you won’t get any supper.” Greg waved the spoon at him.
Smiling, Mycroft fetched the wine and set the table for stew. Greg put the finishing touches and served it out, watching for the warm smile that would tell him Mycroft approved.
The rabbit took a few very proper tastes. “Excellent,” he said, favoring him with that smile.
Greg relaxed and started in on his own supper. Mycroft’s stew had a bit more veg and Greg’s had a bit more meat. But that was the way things were with them and if anyone were to question how these two were together, well, Mycroft would fix them with his withering glare and Greg would hold his arm and that would be all the answer they would get.
I wrote this for thescienceofjohnlock. Sorry it came out a bit more smut then fluff.
Country Christmas – Out in the country for a case, Sherlock and John aren’t going to get home tonight.
teaser below the cut
John leaned against Sherlock’s shoulder, arms folded and nodding off. The train station was cold, but the case was solved and Baker Street awaited them. Sherlock’s fingers danced over his mobile. John couldn’t be arsed to care, looking forward to his warm bed.
Suddenly Sherlock was on his feet, tugging John up. Yawning, he let himself be pulled. “What is it?”
“The train is delayed until morning. We’ve got a room nearby.” Sherlock took his hand and led him out of the empty station.
John couldn’t help but smile, still getting used to the comfortable sensation of the gloved hand in his. The cold shocked him awake as the door opened, snow chasing their heels.
“You never dress warm enough,” muttered Sherlock, pulling his scarf free and wrapping it around John’s neck. It smelled like the detective and John couldn’t help but smile against it.
It was a short walk, stars twinkling overhead in a way they never could in London. Sherlock let go of his hand to go to the counter, returning after a moment with a key. John followed him up the stairs and into a small room that had little more than a crackling fireplace and a large bed.
Sherlock grabbed the front of the scarf and pulled John into a kiss, licking the lingering cold from his lips. John moaned, the rest of his body heat rushing decidedly south.
Greg let Mycroft into the flat. He smiled as he looked Mycroft up and down. “James Bond?”
Mycroft adjusted his bow tie. “No. Professor Lazurus. The Lazarus Experiment?”
Greg shook his head. “Going for the obscure Doctor who villains, okay.”
“Well who are you supposed to be. A big game hunter? Alan Quartermain?”
“John Riddell. Dinosaurs on a Spaceship?”
“That’s Eleventh Doctor isn’t it?” sniffed Mycroft.
“Still Doctor Who. Come on, we’ll be late for the con.”
Day 6 – Wearing Each Others Clothes
It had been a very long day at work. Greg took a hot shower, lost in his thoughts. He should ring up Mycroft, have him come over, some takeaway, a movie… He finally shut the water off and stepped out, toweling off his hair. To his surprise, his clothes were gone from the counter, except for only a single button up shirt. Raising an eyebrow he picked it up and sniffed the collar. Mycroft. Of course.
Wondering what was up, he pulled it on and buttoned it most of the way up. Stepping into the front room, he froze in place.
Mycroft was adjusting the record player, wearing one of Greg’s rattiest old concert t-shirts. He turned and grinned at Greg as music that took him way back poured out of the speakers. Matching Mycroft’s grin, he grabbed the waistcoat from the back of the couch and pulled it on. It wouldn’t button, but that was okay as he went to his lover and pulled him into a fast dance, still knowing every word of the song.
To his surprise, Mycroft knew the words too and they soon flopped on the couch with cheap takeout and beer, talking about uni and younger days and when the sky had been the limit and the world at their feet.