Sherlock had been deep in thought, trying to figure out the enigma that was John Watson, and exactly what it was that he felt for the man but he seemed no closer to solving that mystery than he had been before.

He was surprised for a moment when John came up to him and asked that. It was still only very early spring, it wasn't like he could go back to the Overworld yet.

Or.. did he want more from Sherlock?

That seemed unlikely.

"Alright. though I have to wonder why." He said, in a clipped tone. He waved his fingers and the plug disappeared. He was not disappointed though by the wonderful flood of his own come that flowed like a river down John's thighs and into a puddle onto the stone floor below.

Sure, he could clean it, but he didn't think he was going to. He liked the reminder permanently stained into the ground.