The Doctor And The Detective (Johnlock)

Fifteen

John pushed away the guilt that crawled up his back as he checked into the nearest hotel he could find. It was a small dirty little thing, and he had no doubt that it was mainly used for horny nightclub goers to have one night stands in rather than actual sleeping. He ignored the look the scantily clad heavily lipsticked receptionist gave him and trudged up to his room. He hadn't packed anything, but he couldn't go back now.

Gingerly he alighted on the edge of the bed, ignoring the rancid smell coming from the cupboard. Sherlock flitted through his mind. He did love him, he just didn't know how to deal with the fact that he'd had- John shook his head. He didn't even want to think about it. But Sherlock kept appearing in his mind, naked and smiling.

Pleasure spiked through him with the thought of Sherlock's naked body. John balled his fists and shook his head harder. No, he wouldn't think about it. He wondered if Sherlock would be fine without him. How had this all started? With pizza, John realised. It was ever since he'd taken Sherlock out to get pizza that he'd started to act weird. And then he'd disappeared, and then come back and they'd.... they'd had sex together.

It was a weird sensation, being able to admit that they had had sex and that John had liked that sex. He didn't know if he'd be able to face Sherlock again. How could he ever look at the detective without seeing skin shining with sweat and hearing moans issuing from pink bowed lips? John let himself fall back on the bed, his lower body tingling. He was turned on. He was horny. He needed to let this sexual tension leave his body and distract him from his own mind.

John knew exactly the right place to go to find someone willing to have sex with him. Picking himself up off the bed, John shut the curtains and made his way out the door and back down the stairs. He smiled coyly at the receptionist and she smirked back, biting her bottom lip and letting it plop back into place. John licked his lips slowly and made his way towards her in the empty lobby.

"My manager would have a fit if I left now." Her voice was dripping. John felt an exited shiver run down his spine. She glanced at the clock. "My shift ends in three minutes," she murmured. John smiled again.

"I can wait. I'm in room 112 when you're free." He let his voice go low and husky like Sherlock had done to him. The receptionist bit her lip again.

"I'll be there," she breathed.

He woke a few hours later with lipstick stains over his mouth and neck.... and down there, John realised, blushing. To his relief the woman was not anywhere to be seen - he remembered that she'd left soon after they were done and he had promptly fallen asleep. That same eddying tension had built its way back into John's lower body and he wondered if he wanted to go to a club to pick up someone else.

Stuff it, John decided. He could and would fuck as many people as he wanted. It was fairly late now - the nightclubs would open soon, and be teaming with ladies who just wanted someone to take them for the night. John put his clothes back on and locked the hotel room, going downstairs and out into the street. The nearest nightclub was one called 'The Inferno'. John took a deep breath before swinging the door open and plunging into the fray.

(Sorry again for taking so long. The next chapter shouldn't be too far away, I promise.)