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monkeybardGame Night, Part 4
By MonkeyBard
Rating: R
Length: 1190
Universe: BBC-Sherlock
Genre: Het, Slash
Summary: Another couples’ night at Lestrade’s leads to hilarity, revelations, and more hilarity.
Date: 19 July 2019
JWP #19: Messing About In Boats: Include a water-based method of travel in today's offering.
A/N: I took the “messing about in boats” rather literally, much to John’s chagrin.
Consumption of adult beverages led to a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity, which led to a great deal of ribald mirth, which led to increased imbibing of said adult beverages, which led to more ribald mirth, which led to a bawdy game of Never Have I Ever, which led to revelations that might otherwise have remained undisclosed forever.
“My turn,” said Oscar. He thought for a moment, trying to come up with something that would catch at least one person out. “Never have I ever...stored human body parts in my home refrigerator.” He looked around at the others, taking an extra moment to focus on Sherlock. To his delight, Sherlock was forced to drink.
“What about you, John?” Oscar asked. “Don’t you two share a fridge?”
“Yeah, but they weren’t my human remains. I’m not taking this one for the team,” laughed John.
“I am.” Molly took a swallow of her wine and faced her boyfriend’s shocked expression. “It was just overnight and it’s not like I was experimenting on them like someone we all know.”
Oscar shook his head, chuckling. “I love that you can still surprise me.”
“All right, all right,” said Greg. “Molly or Sherlock. Who’s going?”
“Me, me!” said Molly eagerly. “Never have I ever danced in a Highland dancing competition.”
Greg let his head fall back and he groaned. “I will never live that down.” He looked her, and then at all the others since everyone was laughing. “It was for a case,” he reminded them.
“You still did it,” Sophie said. “And I can’t tell you how sad I am that I wasn’t there to witness it.”
“I have video,” said Sherlock.
“Calhoun told me he deleted that!” exclaimed Greg.
“He lied. Or he did delete it—after I got a copy.”
“That weasel!”
“Fight about it later,” said Sophie. “For now, Greg, drink and pick something.” She turned to Sherlock and added faux conspiratorially, “You’ll send me a copy of that footage, right?”
“Of course.”
“Great. Now my girlfriend is conspiring with Sherlock Holmes. All right.” Greg swigged back a healthy swallow of beer. “I’m running low on ideas. Erm... I dunno. Never have I ever...had sex in an open boat.”
They all looked at one another, wondering if anyone would drink or if Greg was going to have to take another himself and try again.
Hesitantly, and with a pained and self-conscious expression on his face, John raised his bottle and drank. Naturally, all other eyes turned to Sherlock, whose own remained trained on his partner. He didn’t drink.
An expectant silence grew.
“What?” demanded John. “Since when do we have to give details?”
Sophie grinned, eyes agleam with mischief. “Since yer loverboy here didn’t drink with ye.”
“Your accent gets thicker the drunker you get,” observed John at the same moment Sherlock echoed “Loverboy?” in clear disdain of her word choice.
“Out wi’ it,” she persisted.
“You’d have asked even if he had drunk with me, wouldn’t you?”
“Aye. I would.” She set down her glass and leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin on balled fists, the epitome of expectation. “Spill it.”
“It’s really not that exciting a story.”
“Spill. It.”
John sighed. He wasn’t getting off the hook. He knew Sophie well enough by now to know that. And even if she did relent, Sherlock sure as hell wouldn’t. Although he’d’ve waited until they got home. Probably.
“It was while I was at med school in Edinburgh. A friend and I— I’m not naming names, so just stop right there.” John pointed at Sophie forcefully. Sophie mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, then settled back in her listening position, smirking.
Satisfied, John continued. “We decided to take a couple of nights’ holiday to the Highlands to go camping at one of the lochs. We were both done with Friday classes by 10:00, so...” He finished off his beer before going on because damned if he was going to tell this tale without getting at least little more pissed. Greg silently opened another and handed it to him in a sign of empathy. “Ta. There weren’t a lot of folks about since schools were back in session and like I said it was a Friday.”
“Irrelevant. You’re stalling, John.” Sherlock’s gaze revealed nothing of his feelings about the story beyond a desire to hear the rest.
“Right. Well, you know you can rent boats at some of those campgrounds, right? This was one of those, so we did and we rowed out on the loch. It was a warm afternoon. Really still water. That last gasp of summer weather before it turns shitty, you know? So we stowed the oars and we just lay there, soaking up the sun, bobbing gently, drifting a little. Lazy and relaxed like neither of us had felt in months.”
He paused to drink, both to wet his mouth, gone dry from storytelling, and because the beer was currently his courage to continue and his cushion to soften the blow of embarrassment.
“We both dozed off for a bit, and when we woke up we were sort of...entwined. We’d never been...” God, could he even say it? “...intimate with each other before but—we just sort of rolled with it and pretty soon we were mostly naked—well, naked enough and, well, you know. We...had sex in the boat.” There. Surely that was detail enough.
Sophie leaned in further. “Was it a man or woman you were with? What positions did you try? Weren’t you concerned you might capsize?”
“Jesus, Soph!” exclaimed Greg as John turned beet red. “Give the man a break.” But he was laughing at his friend’s discomfiture all the same.
“Personally, I don’t want that much detail, thanks,” put in Molly.
“I do,” said Sherlock.
“I’m with Molly on this one,” Oscar interjected.
John faced down Sophie’s eager gaze. “You’re cut off. That’s all you get.” Then he rounded on his partner. “You...” He paused, and then grinned. He couldn’t help it. The story was out now and he couldn’t take it back, so he might as well ride the wave of friendly ridicule to its inevitable conclusion. In which case, he was taking a prisoner down with him. “I’ll fill you in later with comprehensive, graphic examples.”
He was gratified to see a flush to match his own fill Sherlock’s cheeks. That was a rarity.
Sophie sighed, overly dramatic and particularly playful. “Shame I can’t get a copy of that, too.”
Sherlock’s grey eyes went wicked, gaze never leaving John’s face. His expression all but spoke aloud, Two can play at this game. “That can be arranged.”
“No, it bloody can’t!” shouted John, mortified.
Sherlock only smiled his smuggest ‘I win.’ smile as the others broke into peels of half-drunken laughter.
“Fuck it,” chortled John, accepting defeat. “Hey, Greg? Any chance I can get something stronger than beer?”
Greg nodded, rising to his feet. “I’ll pour you a whisky. You’ve fucking earned it, mate.”
“Thanks. Make it a large one.”
“That’s what he said!” squealed Sophie in delight, and everyone burst into wild, giddy laughter once again.
By MonkeyBard
Rating: R
Length: 1190
Universe: BBC-Sherlock
Genre: Het, Slash
Summary: Another couples’ night at Lestrade’s leads to hilarity, revelations, and more hilarity.
Date: 19 July 2019
JWP #19: Messing About In Boats: Include a water-based method of travel in today's offering.
A/N: I took the “messing about in boats” rather literally, much to John’s chagrin.
Consumption of adult beverages led to a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity, which led to a great deal of ribald mirth, which led to increased imbibing of said adult beverages, which led to more ribald mirth, which led to a bawdy game of Never Have I Ever, which led to revelations that might otherwise have remained undisclosed forever.
“My turn,” said Oscar. He thought for a moment, trying to come up with something that would catch at least one person out. “Never have I ever...stored human body parts in my home refrigerator.” He looked around at the others, taking an extra moment to focus on Sherlock. To his delight, Sherlock was forced to drink.
“What about you, John?” Oscar asked. “Don’t you two share a fridge?”
“Yeah, but they weren’t my human remains. I’m not taking this one for the team,” laughed John.
“I am.” Molly took a swallow of her wine and faced her boyfriend’s shocked expression. “It was just overnight and it’s not like I was experimenting on them like someone we all know.”
Oscar shook his head, chuckling. “I love that you can still surprise me.”
“All right, all right,” said Greg. “Molly or Sherlock. Who’s going?”
“Me, me!” said Molly eagerly. “Never have I ever danced in a Highland dancing competition.”
Greg let his head fall back and he groaned. “I will never live that down.” He looked her, and then at all the others since everyone was laughing. “It was for a case,” he reminded them.
“You still did it,” Sophie said. “And I can’t tell you how sad I am that I wasn’t there to witness it.”
“I have video,” said Sherlock.
“Calhoun told me he deleted that!” exclaimed Greg.
“He lied. Or he did delete it—after I got a copy.”
“That weasel!”
“Fight about it later,” said Sophie. “For now, Greg, drink and pick something.” She turned to Sherlock and added faux conspiratorially, “You’ll send me a copy of that footage, right?”
“Of course.”
“Great. Now my girlfriend is conspiring with Sherlock Holmes. All right.” Greg swigged back a healthy swallow of beer. “I’m running low on ideas. Erm... I dunno. Never have I ever...had sex in an open boat.”
They all looked at one another, wondering if anyone would drink or if Greg was going to have to take another himself and try again.
Hesitantly, and with a pained and self-conscious expression on his face, John raised his bottle and drank. Naturally, all other eyes turned to Sherlock, whose own remained trained on his partner. He didn’t drink.
An expectant silence grew.
“What?” demanded John. “Since when do we have to give details?”
Sophie grinned, eyes agleam with mischief. “Since yer loverboy here didn’t drink with ye.”
“Your accent gets thicker the drunker you get,” observed John at the same moment Sherlock echoed “Loverboy?” in clear disdain of her word choice.
“Out wi’ it,” she persisted.
“You’d have asked even if he had drunk with me, wouldn’t you?”
“Aye. I would.” She set down her glass and leaned forward, elbows on knees, chin on balled fists, the epitome of expectation. “Spill it.”
“It’s really not that exciting a story.”
“Spill. It.”
John sighed. He wasn’t getting off the hook. He knew Sophie well enough by now to know that. And even if she did relent, Sherlock sure as hell wouldn’t. Although he’d’ve waited until they got home. Probably.
“It was while I was at med school in Edinburgh. A friend and I— I’m not naming names, so just stop right there.” John pointed at Sophie forcefully. Sophie mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, then settled back in her listening position, smirking.
Satisfied, John continued. “We decided to take a couple of nights’ holiday to the Highlands to go camping at one of the lochs. We were both done with Friday classes by 10:00, so...” He finished off his beer before going on because damned if he was going to tell this tale without getting at least little more pissed. Greg silently opened another and handed it to him in a sign of empathy. “Ta. There weren’t a lot of folks about since schools were back in session and like I said it was a Friday.”
“Irrelevant. You’re stalling, John.” Sherlock’s gaze revealed nothing of his feelings about the story beyond a desire to hear the rest.
“Right. Well, you know you can rent boats at some of those campgrounds, right? This was one of those, so we did and we rowed out on the loch. It was a warm afternoon. Really still water. That last gasp of summer weather before it turns shitty, you know? So we stowed the oars and we just lay there, soaking up the sun, bobbing gently, drifting a little. Lazy and relaxed like neither of us had felt in months.”
He paused to drink, both to wet his mouth, gone dry from storytelling, and because the beer was currently his courage to continue and his cushion to soften the blow of embarrassment.
“We both dozed off for a bit, and when we woke up we were sort of...entwined. We’d never been...” God, could he even say it? “...intimate with each other before but—we just sort of rolled with it and pretty soon we were mostly naked—well, naked enough and, well, you know. We...had sex in the boat.” There. Surely that was detail enough.
Sophie leaned in further. “Was it a man or woman you were with? What positions did you try? Weren’t you concerned you might capsize?”
“Jesus, Soph!” exclaimed Greg as John turned beet red. “Give the man a break.” But he was laughing at his friend’s discomfiture all the same.
“Personally, I don’t want that much detail, thanks,” put in Molly.
“I do,” said Sherlock.
“I’m with Molly on this one,” Oscar interjected.
John faced down Sophie’s eager gaze. “You’re cut off. That’s all you get.” Then he rounded on his partner. “You...” He paused, and then grinned. He couldn’t help it. The story was out now and he couldn’t take it back, so he might as well ride the wave of friendly ridicule to its inevitable conclusion. In which case, he was taking a prisoner down with him. “I’ll fill you in later with comprehensive, graphic examples.”
He was gratified to see a flush to match his own fill Sherlock’s cheeks. That was a rarity.
Sophie sighed, overly dramatic and particularly playful. “Shame I can’t get a copy of that, too.”
Sherlock’s grey eyes went wicked, gaze never leaving John’s face. His expression all but spoke aloud, Two can play at this game. “That can be arranged.”
“No, it bloody can’t!” shouted John, mortified.
Sherlock only smiled his smuggest ‘I win.’ smile as the others broke into peels of half-drunken laughter.
“Fuck it,” chortled John, accepting defeat. “Hey, Greg? Any chance I can get something stronger than beer?”
Greg nodded, rising to his feet. “I’ll pour you a whisky. You’ve fucking earned it, mate.”
“Thanks. Make it a large one.”
“That’s what he said!” squealed Sophie in delight, and everyone burst into wild, giddy laughter once again.
