3

                                    

                                          
A few weeks after, in the clinic, John and Mycroft were talking about John's upcoming birthday. Oh, and Mary was there for the lunch break to discuss what they should do, how they should celebrate it, and all like that. John's eyes widened a bit as he noticed someone sit down in the waiting room. "What's he doin' here?" John asked, nodding toward the man. Mycroft shrugged and John felt a vibration in his pocket. He took out his phone as Mycroft and Mary were still discussing his birthday. 

                          
'What colour pants are you wearing?-SH' It said with a number above it. John put his mobile back into his pocket as he gave a glance up to the waiting room. "What is it, the big 3-0?" John chuckled, 
                          
"Go fuck yourself, mate," He said with a covering cough. 

                          
"4-0!? Woah!" Mycroft and Mary laughed. John got another text. 
                          
'Take them off for me,-SH' John read, his grimace growing bigger as he glanced into the waiting room once more. He shifted in his seat nonetheless, feeling unintentionally aroused.

                          
'STOP TEXTING ME.' John replied, then looked up as Mary's hand was placed on John's shoulder in worry. "Oh, uh, sorry." He said, "Harry," He briefly explained, giving a weak chuckle. Mary cooed as she leaned her head on John's shoulder, wrapping her arm around him, snuggling close.
                          
"Is everything okay?" Mycroft asked, sounding concerned himself. Another text. 'Why? Am I making you hard, Dr?-SH' John's eyes widened and he sputtered for a response suitable. 

                          
"Y-yeah, I, uh," John began, but then Mary jumped up and with a smile on her face, excused herself to leave, beckoning Mycroft to check his phone soon.
                          
"Bye, baby," She cooed, giving John a kiss. Mycroft said his goodbye to John as well, not kissing him, which was truly for the better as John had already kissed one Holmes boy, a lot, and was eating himself away at it, even still. John checked his watch and saw that it was time for him to head back to his office. He sighed, chuckling. 

                          
"They're gonna give me a surprise party," He laughed quietly. It was so obvious. 
                          
John was buzzed from the intercom for a new patient. John sighed and accepted. All right, he thought, I've got to end this today. He breathed deeply to calm himself down, then a knock at the door had riled him up all over again. "C-come in," John called. The door opened.

                          
"Hello, doctor," A voice said in a low sing. John stood, making Sherlock whistle from the door. He closed it and changed the lock in the handle before strolling in to let his eyes rove all over John, or whatever he could see. John stepped from his desk and Sherlock hummed his obvious approval. John glanced down on himself. Sherlock's hands were held behind his back in a cool and ambiguous way. 
                          
"Sherlock," John said, "this has to stop." John stopped and stood still in front of his desk. Sherlock took to his path, slowly, until he stood a mere foot from John, whose heart took immediately to racing in his chest. Sherlock growled his disapproval, looking John up and down from where he stood. "D'you hear me, Sherlock?" John asked, his voice almost betraying him with a hitch of his breath. John was flushed in the face by now. "W-we can't keep this up," Sherlock opened his mouth but said nothing as he took another step, bringing his hands out to trail over John's belt. 

                          
"This is nice," He said, dropping to his knees, somehow knocking the wind from John's diaphragm. John tried to put his hand between Sherlock and the front of his trousers but was too late. Instead, John ended up digging his hand into the man's curls as he kissed and nuzzled against the flies of John's trousers, making John groan. "Where is it from? Mm, no, let me guess," Sherlock reached his hands around to grope at John's arse, pulling him gently further into his face and hummed. John gripped his hands to the edge of the desk.