Work Text:
“Verner Vogel is a freak of nature.” Jon said as Sherlock pulled the cloak and mask out of the box that had been delivered to their front door. He eyed the items, as well as the note their recent acquaintance had left them, in which he was begging Sherlock to make an appearance at Kurt Manchios’s mansion.
“You may be right about that.” Sherlock replied, gazing over the mask. Pure white, as if made of porcelain with some rouge on the cheeks and drawn-on lips and eyebrows. With the long black robe, he had a feeling he’d look more like a circus clown than anything else. He couldn’t imagine the need for such a strange get-up. Jon chuckled at his statement, and Sherlock turned to see him leaning against one of the big pillars outside of Stonewood Manor.
“What do you think he wants?”
“Knowing Vogel, it can’t be anything good.”
“I agree. Might be another case though.”
“Indeed.” Sherlock glanced over the outfit once more before huffing a long sigh.
“You’re as curious as I am, aren’t you?” Jon asked with a grin. Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning on his heels and walking back inside with the box in his hands. Presumably to change.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
Jon clapped his hands in excitement and followed Sherlock, all but confirming his suspicions that they were embarking on another Cordona adventure.
***
Sherlock begrudgingly walked down the grand staircase of Stonewood Manor, finding Jon waiting for him at the bottom. An amused grin was plastered on his face at the sight of Sherlock wearing the robe, white mask in his hands. Jon crossed his arms and glanced up and down,
“Oh, put the mask on. I’ve gotta see this.”
Sherlock walked right on past him,
“You’ll see it when we arrive. I won’t give you the satisfaction of teasing me.”
“Come on Sherry. Just a peak? For me?”
Sherlock paused in his footsteps almost immediately. He sighed once more before turning around and putting the mask on over his face. He even put the hood of the robe up just to see Jon’s smile turn boyish,
“Exquisite, love. Go ahead and do a little spin for me.” Jon teased as Sherlock knew he would, and the only spin he earned was a quick turn in the opposite direction. He exited the manor to hail a carriage, keeping the mask on either as a means of hiding his identity, or the blush on his face. He wasn’t sure which.
***
The Manchios manor was, as Sherlock expected, huge. He’d also been granted entry without incident, so when Vogel’s letter had said the mask would make things less complicated, he had apparently been correct. Sherlock was mildly surprised to find the place full of people, though he had also expected some kind of festivities, considering the moon was shining and he was given a disguise.
What he hadn’t expected, though, was what type of party they had found themselves entering.
Everyone inside the large estate was wearing masks, all variations of the one Sherlock was wearing. However, there were various… states of dress that left him unable to look anywhere but the floor or the ceiling.
Corsets, suggestive undergarments (or none at all), lace and ribbons tied up in every place imaginable. There were people eating, drinking, kissing, doing any and all kinds of substances. Sherlock dared to wonder what was going on in the darker corners of the main hall.
“...Just what kind of party is this?” Sherlock muttered under his breath to Jon. His companion had, however, disappeared from his line of sight.
“Great.” He sighed and began to look for him. He was actually surprised at the irritation creeping up in his chest along with the idea that Jon was off exploring without him. He would have assumed he’d been all over him, what with the intoxicating environment. Lust was exuding from every corner of the mansion and Jon hadn’t so much as looked in Sherlock’s direction.
Why am I worrying about this? I need to find Vogel.
Though finding the philosophical art major was a lot less pressing now that Sherlock was sure he’d just been invited so Vogel could see him squirm.
Although, admittedly, Vogel had absolutely no knowledge of the things he’d been through in the last couple of months. He couldn’t very well call him inexperienced, or god forbid, a virgin at this point.
In fact, with his identity eluded, and a party where anything could happen, Sherlock thought Vogel’s intentions were actually having the opposite effect on him.
And if there was no mystery…?
What a perfect opportunity to test some things out with Jon.
If only he could find him.
Pushing through the crowd and avoiding some of the more handsy guests, he finally spotted Jon.
He was, of course, having the time of his life. He was practically on top of the table in the center of the room, staring at the food and the gigantic fountain of… chocolate?
Sherlock assumed Jon would be ogling the guests too, with the way his mind was trapped permanently inside the gutter.
But when Jon looked up from the table and at Sherlock, he said,
“This place.. is a news scandal waiting to happen.” He was excited, and though he couldn’t see Sherlock’s eyebrows furrow, he did hear the confusion in his voice,
“What?”
“Think about it! We could write an article: ‘Jon and Sherry expose the secrets of Cordona’s elite.’”
“An article…?” Sherlock uttered. He genuinely couldn’t tell if this was serious or the beginnings of a well thought-out research roleplay. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t talked about it.
But, being the enigma that he was, Jon seemed to be completely genuine,
“Oh yeah. Think of the drama. Illicit sex, drugs, alcohol. We would have a field day exposing this lot to the coppers, wouldn’t we?”
Jon had absolutely no idea he was planning on joining in on the debauchery in a few moments. Sherlock would’ve smiled at how thick his skull was if he wasn’t completely irritated.
“I’m sure we would, Jon.” He said quietly, before adding, “We should find Vogel.”
“And then we get to the eavesdropping?” Jon asked as Sherlock began wading through the crowd once more. He paused, glancing back at him,
“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you begin your investigation? I’ll talk to Verner, and meet you back out here.”
What he really needed was a minute to sort himself out. He doubted Vogel of all people would help with that, but at least Jon wouldn’t be leering over his shoulder.
“I’m on it, Sherry!”
What a dense bastard.
He found Vogel, or who he presumed to be Vogel, stretched out on a sofa in one of the back rooms. He was wearing his own robe and mask, but Sherlock recognized his air of superiority anywhere.
“Vogel.” He said as he peeked in through the curtain. There was a posse of women scattered about the small space, and the smell of sex pervaded Sherlock’s senses.
“Sherlock!” Vogel exclaimed, surprised. He ushered the women out of the room without a second thought.
“I didn’t expect you to show up.”
“I’ll bet you didn’t. I imagine you were disappointed you couldn’t see my reaction.”
Vogel chuckled a bit, sitting up and reaching for a glass on the table beside him. Sherlock could imagine he was drunk, or high, or both.
“A little out of your element, are you?” He seemed amused, confirmed when he pushed off his hood and popped the mask off his face. Aside from the blush on his cheeks, assumingly from the alcohol, his face wore only a smug smile, “Shut the curtain.” He said casually and took a sip from his glass.
“Less than you’d imagine. The party was.. Unanticipated. But I find the possibilities to be intriguing.”
“Possibilities? Oh, Sherlock, you always manage to surprise me! And here I thought I would have to convince you to loosen up a little.”
As Sherlock turned to close the curtain, his eyes widened just a little. The only thing loose at the moment was his tongue, telling Vogel too many things about his sex life already. He pulled the silky fabric to the side and popped his own mask off as he scoffed,
“Please, Verner. My meaning is nothing like you hope.” He sat in the chair opposite to Vogel, and decided to take a page out of Jon’s book, “Cordona’s elite, I assume. This place must be full of secrets.”
Vogel rolled his eyes. Sherlock couldn’t tell if he bought his excuse or not,
“Secrets! You think of nothing but things like that. I take back what I said about surprises, you’re an open book after all.”
The comment irked Sherlock just a little, but he was content that Vogel didn’t pry any further. So he continued,
“What is it, then? Surely you have some kind of plot you wish for me to unfold, or foil. You’re predictable in that way too.” Sherlock asked, adding a bit of cheek at the end that had them both grinning.
“You think so?” Vogel laid back on the sofa once more, bringing his arms up behind his head.
“I’ve simply invited you here because I see the way your shoulders touch your ears at all times.” He said. Sherlock wished he hadn’t inadvertently relaxed them.
“Meaning?” He feigned ignorance, more than knowing where this was going,
“You work too hard, Sherlock. These parties are an opportunity to unwind to the fullest extent.”
“With alcohol and substances.” Sherlock replied, disinterested, “...Sex.” He added, trying and failing to give the same feeling behind the word. Vogel noticed. Sherlock briefly wondered if he’d seen through him the whole time,
“You catch on quick, Mr. Holmes! With that mask, I give you permission to use this night as you please. Indulgence, relief, relaxation, you name it.” He lifted a hand and highlighted each word in the sky in front of him as he named them.
“Why thank you Vogel. What ever would I do without you?” The sarcasm behind Sherlock’s response wasn’t missed, neither was the blush on his face,
“You joke. I understand. But I consider us to be friends.” Vogel sat up once more and reached into his robe. He pulled out a small vile filled with pink liquid, shaking it slightly before setting it on the small table between them, “And friends help friends.”
Sherlock eyed the mischievous vial. The liquid inside was swirling around like it was made of magic. He wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t true. His gaze shifted uneasily toward Vogel,
“What’s your game?”
Vogel laughed,
“My game? My game is pleasure, Sherlock. Feeling. I believe you’ve known that since I’ve met you. I also believe you’re intrigued by it, though you try your hardest not to be.” Vogel glanced at the vial this time, almost leading Sherlock’s eyes back toward it, “All it does is make it… easier to step into my world.”
He was being intentionally vague, Sherlock was sure. All Vogel was really doing was showing Sherlock how little he knew about him.
He had long ago stepped over the line into Vogel’s world. No, it was more like he’d smudged the line and created his own world of pleasure.
Still, if this was his opportunity to explore, as he’d hoped before, maybe he would let Vogel feel important, just this once.
“You intend to create a scandal out of me.” Sherlock told him with a smile. Vogel’s grin was guilty, but he shrugged,
“I intend to let you have a bit of fun.”
Sherlock was the one to chuckle this time.
“I will, trust me.” He reached out and took the vial, slipping it into the pocket of his robe, “In my lab back in London. It will aid in my research on illegal substances. I intend to write an article, you see-”
Vogel interrupted him with a groan and the wave of his hands, as if to shoo him away,
“Spare me the lecture, professor. You are truly boring, Sherlock. Disappointing.”
“Your insults are just as so.” Sherlock stood, picking up his mask and putting it back on, “I bid you goodnight.”
“Adieu.” Vogel said with a sigh, his voice disheartened in only one word.
Sherlock pushed the curtain to the side, ensuring he closed it again as he entered the hall. Quickly, he glanced about at the other rooms, spotting one that was halfway open. Sherlock peeked inside to see two lovers… busy, with their masks unattended. He grabbed one of them and left his behind before securing himself behind a free curtain.
Sherlock had a feeling Vogel would either employ spies, or follow him himself. He was too into his own ideas not to see if he had caved into the world of pleasure.
Well, he’d done that months ago, so now all that was left was to go a little further.
He popped open the vial, nose scrunching at the sweet smell of its contents. He took a breath before putting the bottle to his lips and swallowing the viscous liquid in one short sip.
Sherlock exhaled once more, before popping on his new mask. He bid Vogel good luck in identifying him, before exiting the room and heading back into the main hall.
***
Sherlock wished he’d actually kept his word and saved some of the liquid for his studies. Aphrodisiacs were unfamiliar to him up until the point when he’d downed one without a second thought. It would have been an excellent opportunity for research.
But Sherlock had other things on his mind now.
It started with a stir in his lower abdomen.
Now this feeling was not unfamiliar to him. In fact, he’d become rather acquainted with the slight tingling in his stomach, as if it were a cage of butterflies desperate to escape. This feeling, manufactured and ill-controlled, however, in a room full of people, mixed strangely with the anxiety in his chest. Anxiety or excitement, he wasn’t sure which. He wondered if one of the effects of the liquid he’d taken was a temporary shut-down of his prefrontal cortex, because it was already becoming difficult to think.
“Sherry? Is that you?”
He heard Jon from behind him as he re-entered the main hall. Sherlock turned around to face his companion, ignoring the way the insects in his stomach fluttered louder at the sight of him.
“Jon.” Was all he could say, and the subject of his words smiled,
“I almost didn’t recognize you. Your mask is different.”
“You noticed, did you?” He didn’t have an excuse. Anything he said would have proved his guilt. He wondered if Jon had already begun to sense it, so before he had a chance to answer, he quickly added,
“How’s the investigation of the elite coming along?”
Instantly, Jon’s face lit up, only to fall flat two seconds later,
“Well I tried to eavesdrop, but no one was spilling any important details. Can’t you give it a shot?”
Unlikely. Sherlock thought to himself. The muscles in his stomach clenched in agreement as the tingling traveled farther south.
The last thing he needed was hardened evidence of his arousal to anyone but Jon. Or even Jon, for that matter. His friend was so enthralled by detective work that Sherlock was beginning to feel embarrassed about his own ideas.
The embarrassment was being swiftly drowned out by the warmth that was spreading to nearly every part of him, but especially to his cock. It was gradual for now, but he feared what a couple minutes might do. He needed to satisfy Jon’s curiosities as soon as possible,
“Always need me to do your dirty work, do you?” Sherlock told him with a smile he couldn’t see. He put his hand on Jon’s shoulder, if only to steady himself, as he walked about the crowd.
He’d never lacked concentration more in his entire lifetime.
It was as if every step set his limbs, which were beginning to feel fuzzy otherwise, on fire with sensation. His shoes on his feet, the fabric of the robe against his arms and his pants beneath giving his cock something to twitch at.
And all he could think about was Jon behind him, looming over his shoulder in expectation.
What he wouldn’t give for that tall frame pressed against him right now.
Sherlock tried to steady his breathing, leaning one arm against the wall in an alcove off to the side of the main hall. He stared down at the floor and huffed. The gaze that was glued to him now appeared concerned,
“Sherry? Are you okay?” He asked, and his hand was on Sherlock’s arm, trying to keep him upright. It was doing no such thing. Sherlock’s cock jumped once again in his trousers. He looked up only to avoid making eye contact with the erection he was certain was now showing.
He reached backwards and grabbed Jon by the front of his shirt.
“...Listen.” Sherlock said in a breath, and he nodded toward a couple talking in the corner. They eavesdropped on the two discussing a previous scandal, resulting in the enforcement of the use of masks, as well as the history of the Manchios manor. By the time they were done, Jon was nearly yipping with excitement, and Sherlock was sweltering.
“Absolutely filthy, Sherry!”
Sherlock’s head shot up and his eyes met Jon’s.
“I-”
“This is gonna be the article of the century!”
Sherlock simultaneously felt relieved and irritated at the same time. He slid his hand down to Jon’s belt, tucking his fingers into his waistband and began pulling him toward one of the hallways.
“Woah! Someone’s handsy. Where’re we going?”
No answer from Sherlock. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Sherlock tugged him to one of the rooms in the back corner of the mansion, pulling aside the curtain and finding it empty. It looked exactly like the one Vogel had been sitting in before, nothing inside except for a large sofa, chair and table. He yanked Jon inside and shut the curtain just as forcefully.
“Sherry? What’s the matter?” Jon was rightfully confused, watching Sherlock with a curious eye as he pushed off his hood and allowed his mask to clatter to the floor. Every piece of clothing on his body felt entirely too tight, too hot, too good on his cock. He turned his head to look at Jon while he worked on unbuttoning the robe.
Sherlock’s face was flushed red, his eyes as swirly as the liquid from the bottle, pupils dilated when he saw Jon’s form. Tired of waiting, he put his other hand to Jon’s chest and pushed him onto the sofa. His friend’s eyes widened when the robe dropped to Sherlock’s feet.
He was wearing his starch white collared shirt and slacks, but the bulge beneath his belt was too apparent to ignore. Not to mention that the blush extended down to his neck, and Jon thought he even saw it peaking from his shirt collar and sleeves.
“Sherry..” Jon began, before earning another shove backwards until he was leaning back on his elbows, one leg hanging off the side of the couch. Sherlock used his knee to nudge Jon’s further apart and knelt between them,
“Jon…” He replied breathlessly, undoing a couple buttons on his shirt, “I’ve been wanting you.. All night..”
To see Sherry this blissed out before they’d even started, well it was unheard of. And despite absolutely loving the sight of it, Jon could also admit it was a tad disconcerting,
“Sherlock. Did someone do this to you?” He asked, wrapping a hand around Sherlock’s wrist. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned at that point, but Jon’s motions made him stop. He shook his head,
“No one but myself.”
Jon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“...Did you take something?”
He hadn’t expected the nod. It was slight, but it was there. Sherlock pushed his hair off his forehead and soon Jon was fully on his back, staring up at him in surprise. Sherlock was then straddling his hips, hovering over him with a hand on either side of Jon’s head,
“I was just… so curious.. And it feels so good…” His forehead touched Jon’s, who was beginning to understand the situation. Sherlock started to move his hips against his, and a spark of sensation shot up through Jon’s core.
“My head is full of you..” Sherlock’s breath was hot on his face, “I want to touch you all over, my Jon…” And his hands began to wander, helping Jon with his shirt buttons too.
“I’ve never heard you talk like this..” Jon replied through a grin, though his head was beginning to spin too. Sherlock smiled and kissed his cheek, followed by his jaw and his neck,
“Isn’t it fun…?”
“I’m beginning to think so.”
Sherlock chuckled, and Jon knew he wasn’t completely gone. Just overcome by pleasure and sensation. He could deal with that. He could more than deal with it, frankly.
“You’re such a pretty boy, Jon…” Sherlock muttered between kisses and tongue on his neck. Downstairs he was still busy, messy grinding that Jon was meeting with weak hips. It was difficult when Sherlock was talking to him like this. A blush came over his cheeks with every word he spoke. It was downright impossible when the buttons were through and Sherlock was pushing his shirt open and touching him everywhere,
“I..I’m pretty…?” Jon managed through a hushed breath. Sherlock hummed into his collarbone,
“So very pretty..” He mumbled, and Jon let out an uneasy laugh.
“..Embarrassed, are we…? When I touch you the way you touch me..?”
Jon wasn’t sure how to answer. In all his days of caring for Sherry, he never once thought he’d get the same treatment back. He had always been okay with it, so sure, the feeling of being doted on was weird, but it was also a welcome kind of weird.
“Do you like it when I touch you like this…?” Sherlock asked, running his tongue up Jon’s neck while the pads of his fingers brushed his nipples. Jon’s hips bucked up suddenly to meet Sherlock’s, who moaned at the feeling,
“Y-Yes…” Jon sighed. Sherlock smiled again, and their mouths finally met in sloppy, heated passion. It was a moment before Sherlock whispered into his lips,
“Touch me too, Jon… Please, it aches..”
It was only then that Jon realized his hands had been idly resting on Sherlock’s hips. He had been so surprised and entertained by Sherlock’s forward nature that he had kind of forgotten to get involved.
But if Sherry asked, he would dutifully supply.
He finished with Sherlock’s buttons and the two of them managed to get his shirt off. Then Jon got to work on Sherlock’s belt, the leather snapping in his excitement of removing it. By the time Sherlock’s trousers were undone, his cock was leaking through the fabric of his underwear.
“Fuck, Jon.. Please..” Sherry could barely help Jon with his own belt, but when he did get it open, he immediately tugged Jon’s underwear down to free his cock too. Sherlock sat up a little to grab both his and Jon’s in one fist, and the latter wasn’t about to stop him. He watched, mesmerized, caught up in the sight and the feeling of Sherlock pumping them both together that he could hardly speak. When he did, it was mostly just his name.
“God, Sh-Sherry…”
Sherlock would’ve squinted his eyes shut if not deprived of the picture of Jon beneath him,
“Jon.. You’re positively leaking..” He sighed, paying special attention to the head of Jon’s cock as he rubbed theirs together. Jon did, in fact, throw his head back against the couch and squeeze his eyes closed,
“All for you, Sherry… I’m all yours…” He groaned right back. The warmth in Sherlock’s stomach grew with his words,
“All mine?”
“Every inch.. Use every inch of me..” Jon was muttering through gritted teeth, pinned hips sputtering underneath him, desperate for release. Sherlock felt satisfaction and pleasure throughout his entire body, his own limit nearly reached,
“...Is my pretty boy going to cum soon?” Sherlock asked, towering over Jon once more. Jon could only nod, his chest heaving as he reached down for Sherlock’s cock, allowing them to focus on each other.
The feeling of Jon’s rough hand on his cock made Sherlock’s own movements falter a second, but soon they had reached a rhythm that neither of them thought would last very long.
“Cum for me, Jon…” Sherlock whispered before kissing him, and it was all Jon needed to spill over his own stomach. Sherlock wasn’t far behind, his climax hitting him with a ferocity that he was sure was amplified by that stupid little bottle, and all he felt for his friend beneath him.
***
Even as Sherlock started to calm down, and he and Jon lay together on the sofa, he still felt warm and tingly inside. Despite this, he no longer felt quite so urgent, and was content with their current state. Until he remembered where they were.
Sherlock got up and found his shirt, putting it on and beginning to button it up. Jon sat up too, more in alarm,
“What’s the rush…? I was kind of replaying that scene over and over in my head.” He said. Sherlock shot him a smile,
“I simply don’t want to give Verner the satisfaction of finding us here.” He replied, covering himself with the robe once more. Jon sighed,
“Oh yeah? And why would he be so satisfied?”
This time the grin Sherlock gave him was sheepish. It only took Jon a moment to put the pieces together,
“Dear Lord. You actually put something that Verner Vogel gave to you at a sex party in your mouth? That guy is a creep!”
Sherlock grabbed his mask and chuckled lightly,
“And without that creep, you would’ve never had the pleasure of replaying that scene in your head. And I would never have discovered that you enjoy being dominated.”
Jon groaned in embarrassment, waving his hand as if trying to shut Sherlock up,
“Never repeat that statement. No one can ever hear you utter such a sentence again.”
Sherlock laughed again,
“I was rather excited about it. I was hoping to give you the same experience you gave me.” He said, full of delight. Jon sighed and put a pillow over his face in begrudging agreement,
“Here’s something I never thought I’d say. Thank God for Verner Vogel.”
Sherlock scoffed in amusement,
“And I hope you never have to utter it again.”