A Wet Sherlock Holmes

John's desperate night out

John Watson was a good man. But this one time he didn't want to be good. He wanted Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes.
He'd recently wet his pants...and to his surprise and utter shock he liked it. He didn't just like it, he loved it and he loved Sherlock seeing him while he pissed.

John had noticed Sherlock peeking into the bathroom everytime he relieved himself desperately. At first he didn't purposefully leave the door open for his roommate to see...but the longer their living arrangement went on, the more he became aware of Sherlock's arousal. He himself felt aroused by the thought of the detective listening.

He wanted more. John Watson, a retired army docto, wanted to piss himself... preferably in front of his colleague.
He needed a plan. A kind of possibility. He wouldn't have done this, he assured himself, if Sherlock hadn't seemed interested in it. John couldn't just outright ask him.

It was a Saturday evening when Dr. Watson's plan was put into action. The two men would be going out to drink and John had promised himself he wouldn't pee all evening until they got home.
It was 6:43pm and Sherlock was already getting impatient.
"I'll be right there." John promised.
"Hurry!" Sherlock seemed agitated.
"I'm coming." John appeared from around the corner.
"Let's go..." Holmes stated.
They visited a few clubs throughout the evening and John made sure to drink enough. Enough to make him need to take a piss after only 45 minutes of being out.
He didn't go, he had decided already. Sherlock sometimes looked at him suspiciously but ultimately decided against speaking up.
"Hey Sherlock?" John asked.
"What is it? You want to head home already?" The detective replied watching the the constantly squirming doctor.
John pretended to dance as to not look like he needed to pee too much.
"No it's not that" Watson sighed, "I haven't eaten anything today and I'm sure you haven't either. I think we should eat before we drink more alcohol."
"Agreed."

They went to a diner near the club they were currently at. John winced slightly as he sat down and he swore he could see a faint blush on Sherlock's cheeks.
John couldn't keep himself from squirming, he tried to keep it at bay as much as he could.

Sherlock, if he was honest with himself, had to admit he needed to pee as well. But he had an entirely different need that was getting worse by the minute. He was horny. It wasn't something he was proud of but his dick was getting harder everytime he saw John squirm, groan or blush.
Fortunately for him he was often seen crossing one leg over the other, so doing that now didn't look suspicious.

Later they went to a few more pubs. Drinking, dancing, squirming and trying not to piss.
God, John needed a piss so badly he could barely keep himself from just outright asking Sherlock to go home. But he did. He kept on going.

By now it was about 12:07, shortly past midnight. Sherlock hadn't drank anything in a while, as he was watching John. Watching his body scream for release. Not that he'd drank much, he just drank alcohol.
Sherlock's hand kept going in the direction of his crotch, trying to free himself from his cock's misery.

Since it was past midnight now and they didn't want to get home too late, they left the pub in search of a cab to get home.
John felt fine for as long as they were walking. When he stopped he could feel little dribbles of pee escaping his prick along with the pressure on his bladder getting worse.
Sherlock was watching and John knew. He didn't care, it was his goal anyway.
Finally a cab arrived and they got in. The pressure was going down again and for a moment the doctor feared he may have wet already because of the pressure decline. He hadn't.

As the car hit a bump in the road John gasped loudly. His cheeks immediately turning a deep shade of red. He grabbed at his crotch. He could feel the fabric getting damp.
This was a decision made within milliseconds, he opened the zipper of his trousers and slid his hand in. John slipped his hand past his underwear and grabbed at his dick directly.
At first it hurt, then the pressure went down and he sighed.

Sherlock had started grinding against the seat of the cab as he needed to cum now. His cock was hard and the bulge in his pants needed to leave until they left the car.

"Finally home!" John thought as he could see their flat.
The doctor just needed to get out of the car, up the stairs and into the bathroom.
This first step proved to be quite difficult as he kept one hand in his trousers but he made it out.
He was dancing on the spot, changing his movement from up and down bobbing, to side to side swinging all with periodic periods where he just stood still clenching his fish around his desperate prick.

Sherlock took stupidly long to pay but eventually went over to the door, unlocking it and stepping into the small apartment.

John stopped in the doorframe, still squirming. Sherlock standing in front of the bathroom door.
"Sherlock please...I have to go." John pleaded.
"No" Sherlock announced.
He looked at John in this strange way. Like Sherlock was a predator and he was the prey. The detective didn't take his eyes off of John.
"I- I'm going to pee myself." John argued.
"No." He said with the same determined voice he'd used before.
"Please Sherlock! I really can't hold it anymore!" He begged as his second hand moved into his trousers and past his underwear.
You could now clearly see Sherlock's hard dick, he didn't even try to hide it anymore.
"Sherlock!" John yelled, beginning to feel real desperation. He was right in front of the restroom and he couldn't go in. It wasn't even broken, he was just refused.

Sherlock was quick, he entered the bathroom, came back out with an arm full of towels and placed them on the ground.
Panik was visible in John's eyes as he looked at the towels, then at Sherlock and then at the towels again.
"Go." Sherlock demanded.
John now certainly felt like prey.
"I can't do that." The man explained. He wasn't sure if he actually had second thoughts now or if it was just a thing he felt like he had to say.
"You can and you will." Sherlock stated again.
Dr. Watson was about to protest when he felt a wave of desperation hit him. A short stream, nearly soaking his underwear, came out.
That very moment he decided he was pissing if it meant onto the towels or not.

John fumbled with his trousers before managing to pull out his dick. He fell asleep his knees gave out and he pressed his cock onto the towels.
He let go. And he pissed but the release was short lived as the massive feeling of relief brought arousal with it.

His prick began to harden and his flow stopped. He let out a whine as he still needed to pee.
That's when a hand grabbed his dick from behind and began stroking. It was Sherlock, he started of slowly and got a bit faster with each stroke.

Eventually he stayed with a specific rhythm and after a while John even began jerking his hips.
John closed his eyes as he came.
Piss came shooting out the tip immediately as he was finally granted full relief. He moaned at the pure arousal of it all.