Yes, Doctor

[phoenix-glow.livejournal.com]

Title: Yes Doctor Fandom: BBC Sherlock Writer: alexxphoenix42 Alternate links: none Status of work: 1/1 chapter Characters and/or pairings: Sherlock/John Rating: mature Warnings, kinks & contents: mutual masturbation, anal play, role playing, medical kink, PWP Length: 2711 Summary: John is surprised then delighted to find that Sherlock has a doctor kink. Disclaimer: don't own the lads, just enjoy visiting occasionally. ------------------------------------------------

“You’re not serious are you?” huffed John. The stony face Sherlock presented from the couch indicated that no, he was not kidding. John sobered instantly.

“Oh, right, right. Okay, so you’ve got a medical kink. You like to “play doctor?” then.”  John leaned forward in his chair and rested his cup of tea on one knee.

Sherlock quirked up one eyebrow.

“How does that work exactly?” John asked rubbing one hand over his chin.

“In the usual way.” Sherlock quipped out waving an elegant hand across the air like he was shooing the ridiculous away.

“You’re going to make me just figure this out aren’t you?” John laughed.

“I trust you.” said Sherlock and went back to his laptop. And there it was in a nutshell. Sherlock did actually trust John.

John Watson, M.D. had spent a number of years working as an actual doctor in a variety of settings both civilian and military, but was chagrined to admit he had missed out on “playing doctor” with anyone. Growing up, he’d stolen some kisses from girls down the lane.  He’d had a few memorable wanks with a lad on his rugby team in his early teens, but that was it before reaching the depth and breadth of his adult sex life. Playing doctor had never come up, but for Sherlock he was willing to expand some horizons. Christ, with Sherlock, there were no horizons – it all just expanded out into the ether.

It was but a few days later, Sherlock gave John one of those piercing looks that always stopped him in his tracks. “I checked our schedules. I see you might be free for a special appointment this afternoon Dr. Watson.”

“What? Oh, OH. Right, you clean off the kitchen table and I’ll get my gear.”

Between the cases and John’s part-time work at the local clinic, it had been awhile since they’d made time for each other, and John was oddly looking forward to this. Clinical detachment was something he had worked hard to maintain to serve his patients  vulnerable in their pain and their nudity. This sexy doctor thing would be something  . . . a bit different.

John stepped into the kitchen wearing his white coat, holding a clipboard (props helped) and smiled up at Sherlock perched stiffly on the table he had not only cleared but scrubbed in preparation.

“Good afternoon. Mr. Holmes is it?”  John smiled his best friendly doctor smile and flipped through the pages clipped to the board.  One seemed to be last week’s shopping list. Milk, bread, and oranges were crossed off, but rat poison, plasma, and feathers remained on the list.  John wondered how pressing the need was for those things.  No matter. John hastily abandoned the clipboard on the kitchen counter as Sherlock glared at his inattention suspiciously.

“Yes, doctor, though you may call me Sherlock.” Sherlock replied obediently.

“Well Sherlock, I see you’re due for a physical today. Any specific complaints I should know about before we get started?”

“I have had some pains lately.”  Sherlock admitted.

“Pains, what sort and where?” John’s brow had furrowed up in concern.

“Phantom pains” Sherlock said pointedly widening his eyes to show John he was being a prat if he took any of this seriously.  “And they travel.”

“Oh, right.  Where do these pains usually occur?”

“In New Scotland Yard.” Sherlock quipped back. “I cannot tolerate stupidity. It hurts enormously.”

“Ah” John said pretending to ponder this with a very serious face. “And where in your body” John asked leaning in closer “do you generally feel this pain of the stupid?”

“Simply everywhere.” Sherlock drawled back with a one side of his mouth curled, and one perfectly-matched eyebrow raised.  John loved Sherlock’s smirky look.

“Yes, right” John nodded trying not to laugh.  “Do you feel the pain ah, here? “ he asked reaching forward  to slowly run one fingertip along Sherlock’s jaw and down that never-ending neck.  “Yes doctor.” Sherlock answered tipping his head slightly back to better bare his throat.

“How about here?” John reached over to unbutton the top two buttons on Sherlock’s shirt and leaned in to mouth gently over the elegant collar bones beneath.

“Yes” Sherlock inhaled quickly as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Been having any pains here?” John asked a bit more breathlessly as he let his palm fall down to cup Sherlock’s crotch and gently squeeze.  Sherlock was already half hard, but lept to higher attention under John’s hand. John felt his own cock twitch in sympathy.

“Yes.” Sherlock answered a bit more emphatically.

“Excellent” John said leaning into to nuzzle Sherlock’s right ear as his hand continued to gently knead. “A full exam is definitely what you need today.” John threaded his other hand up into Sherlock’s curls and cradled the back of his head as he delicately  tongued  along the shell of Sherlock’s ear. John’s mouth moved  to nip tiny bites down the column of Sherlock’s neck to his shoulder–God, to his dying day  he would never get enough of this neck . He licked a stripe right up to Sherlock’s jaw.  Sherlock shuddered under him.

“Why don’t you remove your clothes down to your underwear please .” He murmured against Sherlock’s smooth skin. Sherlock had nothing in reply, his mouth slightly parted, his breath coming ragged.

John stepped back abruptly then, and clasped his hands with a jolly clap that jolted Sherlock’s eyes back open. “I’ll be back in just a few moments when you’re ready. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find you right as rain.” With that John winked and quickly backed out of the kitchen and into the loo.

Sherlock stared after him incredulously “But John . . .”

John shut the door and chuckled abit to himself.  He didn’t generally make patients wait for the sheer pleasure of it, but John thought of all the times Sherlock had left him hanging at a crime scene and decided a few minutes of waiting was fair play. After flipping through the two magazines in the rack by the bog roll for a reasonably annoying amount of time, he stood, washed his hands, and re-emerged with a cheerful smile.  Sherlock was on the table in nothing but a pair of black silk briefs, John’s favorites on him, and an impressive erection straining against the fabric. Ah, curious, the waiting was a GOOD thing.

John stepped forward briskly warming his stethoscope between his palms. “Let’s take a listen to your heart and lungs shall we?”  Sherlock merely nodded at him.

John loved the human body in all its many forms. He loved learning about the muscles and sinews that tied the latticework of sturdy white bones together.  He loved the beat of hearts, the ever- present whoosh of air in lungs that symbolized the very stuff of life itself.  He loved the intricate dance of chemicals and motivations that propelled the many bodies that came under his care – the tall, the tiny, the muscled, the lushly-curved, the lean, the scarred, the freckled – it was all a gorgeous part of the human spectrum.  And Sherlock. God, he was in a category all on his own. John wasn’t ashamed to admit that the long, lanky drink of water had hooked all his senses from their first meeting at Bart’s. Creamy alabaster skin, stormy-grey eyes, and that voice, GOD, that voice. Well, Dr. Watson was a man besotted, what could he say?

John enjoyed slipping into the routine of a general physical. He listened to Sherlock front and back happy to hear that all was functioning beautifully. He felt the glands behind and under Sherlock’s jaw with a firm hand, had Sherlock lie back with a rolled towel behind his head, and palpitated his abdomen all the while keeping up a steady patter about the latest spot of sunny weather they’d been having. Sherlock bore it all with a surprising goodwill.  John was secretly pleased to get the chance to make sure all was well with his love. Sherlock truly did NOT suffer himself to be poked and prodded in the name of medicine very often.

“Any nicotine, alcohol, or other recreational drug use I should know about?” John asked as he finished up.

“Yes to the first, occasionally for the second, and not for ten years on the last.” Sherlock answered.

“Hmmm, let’s see if we can cut down on the nicotine use, yes?”

Sherlock pulled a moue with those impossible lips. “I am John. No cigarettes for six months, one week, and six days, and only one patch every three days.” Sherlock admitted grudgingly.  John realized he was letting the doctor and boyfriend in him squash the mood.  Erections were flagging, and that wouldn’t do.

“Good.” He nodded at Sherlock. “As promised you’re in top shape. I need to check for any signs of  inguinal  hernias now. Please stand and remove your briefs.”

This was always the part that turned grown men into big babies. Very few blokes liked someone fiddling about with the bait and tackle unless it was accompanied with a come-fuck-me smile.  John prided himself at putting his patients at ease during exams like these. But of course that wasn’t  the point this time. Sherlock shimmied off the table to his feet. He dropped trou leaving his black briefs to puddle at his feet and waited patiently before him.  John loved Sherlock’s cock – it was longer and thinner than his, and rose slightly to the left with an insouciant tilt. John could have picked it out of a line-up any day. John felt himself swelling again, and he subtly adjusted his khakis slightly to accommodate the fullness.  Sherlock merely smirked at him knowingly.

Usually John slipped a glove on at this point, but he wanted to feel everything so he merely moved closer, and gently slipped his fingers behind Sherlock’s left testicle. “Turn your head and cough for me please. “ Sherlock obligingly rumbled out a baritone cough. Ordinarily he’d move briskly to check the next side, but this time John let his hand linger, roaming over the ball sack gently cupping the testes in his palm and rubbing the silky skin between his fingers.  Finally, he moved his fingers back between the right testicle and Sherlock’s groin. “Cough, ahem, cough again for me please.” For some reason John was finding himself a bit hoarse.  Again Sherlock coughed but it turned into a bit of a moan when John grabbed his arse with his right hand, and stroked his left hand up the length of Sherlock’s  erection.  Sherlock sagged back against the table.

“Those are some damn fine balls you have there Mr. Holmes.” John ground out low and dirty as he slotted himself between Sherlock’s thighs, “but your cock is even nicer.” John pressed in tight, rocking his fully-clothed crotch against Sherlock’s naked body.

“Thank you, doctor.” Sherlock managed to croak out. “I’d say you have some pretty impressive  equipment yourself under there.” Sherlock reached around to grab as much of John’s arse as he could get through his too-many layers of clothes pulling John even closer.

“Ah, you naughty boy.” John laughed licking his lower lip. “You’d like to see wouldn’t you."

“Yes, doctor. Please.” Sherlock ground up against him and shot him such a filthy  look from under half-closed lids that John almost came right then.  John stepped back and made a show of slowly unbuckling his belt, pulling it out loop by loop and and dropping it to the floor. Even slower, he popped the button on his trousers, and slid down the fly. Easing the fabric a few inches down his hips released his straining erection to bob proudly between them. Sherlock greedily reached forward to slide a hand up his rigid member and push his trousers farther down to his knees.

“Mmm, doctor, I’m impressed. Is that all for me?”

“Every inch of it.”  John choked out. “Hang on a minute.” John pulled back to grab the tube of lubricant off the counter beside them. He squeezed a line across his palm, and moved close to align their erections side by side. Gathering their cocks together, he let his slick palm move slowly up and down.

“So Mr. Holmes, nothing new with your penis? No bumps or changes in feeling or appearance?”

“Oh God, John.” Sherlock had thrown his head back and the only other words to come out were a string of incoherent moans.

“Ah yes, all seems to be in working order.”  John agreed. “Still need to check the prostate though.” John pushed Sherlock back gently to sprawl back over the kitchen table, and grabbed the lube once more. “Knees up” he told Sherlock. “There’s a good boy. Don’t worry. This won’t hurt a bit. ”

With another generous squeeze of lubricant, John careful slipped a finger between Sherlock’s buttocks, and worked a finger into his arse.  Twisting gently, he worked two fingers up and forward, pushing them in and out until Sherlock fairly trembled beneath him. With his other hand, he resumed pumping Sherlock’s cock. “Mr. Holmes,” John continued on in a steadfast way as if his patient weren’t a debauched falling-apart mess spread like Sunday tea before him. “Are you able to achieve and maintain a satisfactory erection?” Sherlock thrashed his head side to side and moaned louder.  “Show me, Love. Show me how much you can come.” John ground out. Sherlock came with a spectacular bellow splashing come over his belly and John’s hand. “Oh, God, yes.” John breathed out watching Sherlock writhe under him ignoring his own erection still jutting before him.

As soon as Sherlock could draw a deep breath, he sat up and swiping his hand through the ejaculate over his stomach, and proceeded to pull John to his own orgasm in only a few strokes. John saw red haze with the first wave. By the last pulse, his knees gave out, and he found himself collapsing bonelessly against Sherlock.

“Sofa, John.” Sherlock said simply, and pulled him and John over to tangle across the sofa in a sticky heap, Sherlock half over John, legs dangling to the floor.

“Oh, Oh, Love.” John said rubbing his hand fondly over Sherlock’s back. I had no idea how much I was missing out with playing doctor.”

“It’s probably more fun to do it as adults.” Sherlock observed, his face muffled by John’s chest.

“Yeh, I guess so.” A horrible thought occurred to John then. He half lifted his head to peer down at the head of black curls on top of him.   “Hey did I get you into my bed just because I’m a doctor?”  It had been months of tap dancing around each other after John had moved into the flat before he and Sherlock had finally made a move on each other.

“Oh John, don’t be dull you have many qualities to recommend you.  Of course it didn’t hurt that you were a doctor.”  At that they both burst out laughing together, Sherlock’s head bouncing on John’s chest with each chuckle.

“Oh, God.” John groaned then  smacking a hand to his forehead.

“What’s wrong John?” Sherlock lifted his own head in concern.

“The next time I have to do a bloody physical on someone at the surgery. I can’t have any of THIS in my head. God, how unprofessional would that be to get a stiffie during some old git’s ruddy rectal exam?”

Sherlock merely chuckled. “I can’t say that I minded, but it would be a little rude of you to do that at work.  You don’t do that at work do you?” Sherlock quirked one eyebrow in inquiry.

“Sherlock. God. You’ll be the death of me yet.” John laughed rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Come on up with you, you big cat. We need to have a shower before all this hardens.” John toed off his shoes and made to push his trousers all the way off.

“John” Sherlock stopped his rising with one long hand splayed over his chest.

“Yes, Love?” John waited.  Steel-grey eyes met his over the buttons of his shirt.

“Thank you . . . for this . . for playing along .”

“Any time, Love, any time.”  John raised Sherlock’s hand to drop a kiss in the center of his palm.  “Now, Holmes, shower.” Sherlock merely grinned and stood, pulling John up with him.