Stitchy inspired me to write a prostitute John story, and it looks like this is going to be another mulit-chapter fic. Not sure where it’s going quite yet.<\/p>\n
Ilium <\/a>–\u00a0When John was injured and sent home, he found the only work he could do was the oldest profession. That was where Sherlock stumbled into his life. Now leaving that life behind may be the most difficult challenge yet.<\/p>\n teaser below the cut<\/p>\n <\/p>\n John watched as the slender man came into the parlor. Dark tousled hair, pale eyes. A man like that sure didn\u2019t need to pay for sex. But well, all kinds came in here. He looked around with eyes that seemed to take in everything. At least he was looking at more than just the men who worked here. The man met his eyes. John stopped breathing a moment, then put on his smile and moved closer. Probably kinky as hell if he was here. Either way, long as he paid, he\u2019d do his best. And his best was damn good.<\/p>\n \u201cEvening,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n He looked John over in a way that felt like he was finding every fault and flaw. John stiffened his back and met the scrutiny. The stranger raised an eyebrow.<\/p>\n \u201cAfghanistan or Iraq?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re a soldier. Not home very long. But working here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, well, we\u2019ve all got reasons. Promise I can still make it worth your while. Name\u2019s John.\u201d<\/p>\n He shifted. \u201cSherlock.\u201d<\/p>\n