John Watson (
ihadabadday) wrote2018-03-05 06:07 pm
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Entry tags:
Into the Night - AU - Locked to
seaweed_writes
Sex sold. It could be seen in marketing for businesses across all sorts of industries.
And for John Watson, his business was booming.
He worked out of a club in London that catered to certain... Tastes. Men and women who looked to dominate someone sexually. Some would look down on a man having that job, scoffing. Sex work was legal though. But those who were interested in BDSM, found sex workers to be lacking.
John was sitting at a bar at the club he usually worked out of, nursing a soda. He rarely drank when he was working, preferring to stay sober.
He looked around the room, seeing if there was anyone who caught his interest tonight.
And for John Watson, his business was booming.
He worked out of a club in London that catered to certain... Tastes. Men and women who looked to dominate someone sexually. Some would look down on a man having that job, scoffing. Sex work was legal though. But those who were interested in BDSM, found sex workers to be lacking.
John was sitting at a bar at the club he usually worked out of, nursing a soda. He rarely drank when he was working, preferring to stay sober.
He looked around the room, seeing if there was anyone who caught his interest tonight.
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"I was grabbed because I'm a doctor. They wanted me to fix someone. I couldn't save him." No matter who it was, John was always the doctor.
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Sherlock nodded his head, to show John that he was listening, but he stayed quiet, letting John continue in his own time, if he wanted to. There were a lot of questions that Sherlock wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut and continued with the physical contact. If John wanted to stop there, that was fine, Sherlock would never press him for more.
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The memories flooded and he couldn't help but start to buckle in Sherlock's arms.
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"Stay here." He ran off to the loo and wet a flannel with cool water, then came back and put it on his forehead "Just close your eyes if you are feeling dizzy or nauseous, it should pass soon." He really had no idea what else to do, John was the doctor.. well, former doctor.
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He took deep breath, trying to steady himself.
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"I promise."
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It didn't take long to clean the dishes. He made a couple of cups of tea and put one next to the glass of water, in case he wanted it, and he sat next to John, trying not to let his worry bleed through.
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"His name was James Sholto. He was my superior officer." He started. John as red to get it all out there. Any dirty laundry. Anything.
"It was a mutual dominant, submissive relationship. He was the dominant. And not because he was my CO. But because I wanted it that way. Eventually I was transferred to another company. He was killed in a bombing, with his entire company two weeks later."
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"Thank you for telling me." He told him.
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There was a bit of silence between them.. Not uncomfortable, but heavy. They needed to change the subject, to do something else.
"We could take a walk in the park. The leaves are starting to come back into bloom." He wasn't really one for people watching, at all, but he had no idea what else to suggest tht they do.
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He stood up and held out his hands to Sherlock after setting down his tea
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It didn't take long for him to put on some pants, his tight black trousers, and the purple shirt that was tight enough that it strained against his thin chest. A nice pair of loafers completed the ensemble.
He walked back into the living room and put on his scarf and Belstaff, despite the surprisingly warm London weather.
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Once he finished cleaning up, he joined Sherlock in the sitting room.
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He tensed slightly at the first touch, then relaxed into it, slipping his fingers between John's and giving him a little squeeze. It wasn't much, but it was enough contact to show their togetherness.
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"We're going home, John." He said, in a no nonsense tone. close to him dom tone but not quite. It left no room for discussion or argument.
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He swallowed and then glanced back at the person before going to follow Sherlock.
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He wheeled around at the man, furious. "Mycroft, my personal life is none of your business. Whatever you want to say, I don't want to hear it. Leave me alone."
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John looked at Sherlock and then the man. And his hackles rose. He had seen this man before. On bases.
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