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Pirate King

Chapter Text

Sherlock had time to think on the flight to Florida, and more during the drive. This was Jim’s first time seeing Sebastian since he became Charlie, and he seemed more melancholy than simply happy. He was happy with his friends in New York–and they were every bit as wonderful and quirky and unique as they’d seemed online, at least–but his relationship with Sebastian seemed more complicated.

All Charlie would say about it was, “I’ve changed a lot.”


Sebastian was working on his boat when he got the text from Jim: You have a visitor at home, Tiger. Be nice.–JM

He stowed the gear and went home, wondering. It wasn’t a warning, exactly–maybe a message? A courier? He found himself wishing desperately he could see Jim again, and then he shivered a bit because, honestly, Jim was a lot safer at a distance, but… even a red-headed mermaid couldn’t set your blood on fire like he could. Nothing short of the whistle of a bullet too close or a knife in your side got your blood going the way Jim did.

Come to that, Jim HAD put a knife in my side once.

There was a rental car pulled into the spot in front of his house, plain and obvious. He walked up and frowned because the front door had been opened and his locks were good, but then anyone Jim sent would be good. He walked in and Sherlock was standing there in a pair of pants that left a lot to the imagination but hinted nicely, and a shirt that just screamed “rip me off.”

“You did say to look you up when I wasn’t trying to kill you, and I wasn’t drunk or drugged,” he said, sipping from a glass of something bubbly and champagne-colored.

“I was trying to keep you from seeing my face,” Sebastian said with a faint sigh.

Sherlock looked him over curiously. He wasn’t as tall as Sherlock had thought–just close to his own height–but well-muscled and very lean: the type of corded muscles you got from work, and hauling lines, and hours on the rifle rage–not just a gym. He looked worried: Trying to keep Jim a secret, of course, and… not sure if he’s allowed to do more than flirt.

“You don’t know if Jim would let you do more than flirt,” Sherlock said thoughtfully.

Sebastian, trying very hard to keep his face neutral, said, “Don’t think he would have wanted me to kill you, either, as I said.”

There was the clink of a glass from his kitchen then and he spun–DAMN fool, assuming he came alone–and a familiar Irish drawl that he’d heard in his dreams and nightmares said, “Well, no killing him, Tiger–but as to more than flirting, I suppose you’d have to ask me.”

Jim came out of his kitchen like he owned it–which since he’d bought it for him, Sebastian assumed he did. The casual clothes weren’t much of a shock–Jim dressed however he wanted to–but the hair…

“Sir?” He wanted to kiss him, report in, and ask him why his hair was blue–he settled for saying “Sir” and hoping someone explained.

“So, you two have met, but still, formalities: Sherlock, Sebastian; Sebastian, Sherlock–Sherlock’s been going by William lately and since you can know now, I’ve been using Charlie.”

Sebastian glanced back at Sherlock who was mostly looking curious and unalarmed–which was really WEIRD for being in the same room with Jim, but at least seemed less likely to blow up.

Sebastian started to say something and Jim just walked up, pulled his shirt collar down hard, and kissed him. Sebastian wrapped his arms around him by reflex and kissed back, wondering how this was going to go, and if this was just to make Sherlock jealous.

If so, it didn’t seem to be working: he mostly looked intrigued.

Jim pushed him back and put a glass of something that he suspected was ginger ale into his hand. “We need to talk, Sebie.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You’re off duty.”

Sebastian looked over at Sherlock, “I am?”

“Yeah, you are. So everyone grab a seat and let’s get this over with.” Jim pointed at the couch and somehow Sebastian ended up with Sherlock on one side of him and Jim on the other. His dick was extremely confused.

“It’s not poisoned or drugged, Sebie, you can drink it,” Jim waved at the ginger ale.

“I drugged John a few times,” Sherlock sighed.

“More than a bit not good?” Jim asked him curiously.

Sherlock nodded and Jim picked up a third glass from the table that Sebastian hadn’t noticed–Might as well throw myself into a shark tank! I’m losing it–and they touched glasses.

“With all due respect… The hell, boss?”

“This is going to be really strange.” Jim sighed, “I keep doing all this stuff I swore I would never do. Do you remember that I said there was a whole list of things Moriarty never did?”

“Uh... yes?”

“I’m sorry I knifed you, Tiger: you didn’t deserve it.”

Sherlock watched shock on Sebastian’s features. Then, slowly, Sebastian asked, “What happened to ‘I never apologize, that’s for ordinary people’–Sir?”

“Moriarty was dealing with people where the first sign of weakness meant that you would get ripped apart; Charlie has somewhat different problems–and options.”

“I thought…” Sebastian looked at Sherlock warily.

“Go ahead, Tiger: whatever it is, I’m sure he’s heard worse.”

“I mis-read a lot…” Sebastian took a deep breath and continued as if there wasn’t a witness, “Jim… I mis-read a lot as consent, and I know you were angry. I wish you hadn’t knifed me–and I appreciate the apology–but–”

“I didn’t knife you because I was angry, Sebastian, and you didn’t mis-read as much as you think. I knifed you because I…” He pressed his lips together angrily and then sighed.

Jim suddenly stood up and stripped off his shirt.

“You got TATTOOS?” Sebastian’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, meant to stop at one and got carried away–Sherlock and I got matching ones.” He touched a reasonably fresh-looking tattoo on his chest: it read “Memento Vivare, Memento Mori” in elegant script. “But that honestly isn’t the point. Do you see the scar those words are around?”

“Yeah, knife wound, I saw it before…”

Jim spun and pointed at the small caliber bullet wounds in his back, “And those?”


“Both times,” Jim said, turning back around to face the sofa and Sebastian. “Both times I put myself in a vulnerable position because I trusted someone, and almost died.” He fell back onto the sofa.

After a long pause and utter bewilderment on Sebastian’s face, Sherlock cleared his throat, “Whatever happened, you were in a vulnerable position, you realized you had trusted Sebastian and LET yourself be in a vulnerable position, and then panicked.”

“Pretty much,” Jim admitted sipping ginger ale.

Sebastian had the impression he’d missed something fairly important. “Can…” he started, then he smirked at Jim, “Can you translate that into goldfish?”

Sherlock choked on his ginger ale and Jim just laughed, “You are not a goldfish: more like a Tiger shark, maybe.”

“I’m still not sure I–”

“You didn’t mis-read anything, Tiger. I was in a bad place and having you take charge was wonderful and I enjoyed every minute. I panicked afterwards because I’ve been betrayed too often.”

The world may as well have tilted on its axis as Sebastian tried to put that together. “Why… didn’t…”

“And then, by the time that might have changed, Mycroft happened and I developed a severe allergy to restraints of any kind.”

“Oh.” Sebastian glanced at Sherlock.

Sherlock looked up at him and there was something unsettling in his eyes. He undid the cuffs on his shirt and pulled the sleeve back. “So have I.” There were marks on his wrists–some that would scar and some that would probably fade, eventually–and Sebastian recognized the marks of fighting against metal restraints and hanging from your wrists.

Sebastian glanced at Jim and Sherlock read his damned mind, “No, Jim rescued me–or Charlie did, since he did it under that name–with Mycroft’s help. I was in Serbia; I believe you’ll understand that.”

“Serbia? Oh GOD, those assholes?” He glanced back at Sherlock and then at Jim. “Wait… you AND Mycroft?”

“Phone and text,” Jim said primly. “He knows it’s me, but it can’t be me–must be driving him crazy.”

“It is,” Sherlock shrugged. “So what exactly happened?”

“I was having one of my… incidents.” Jim sighed. “I got overwhelmed, and angry, and I was ripping things up and throwing things… and Sebastian… took me down before I could hurt myself or anyone else. We ended up kissing–I think I started that.”

“You did; you bit me, too, but that wasn’t new.”

“You’re bitable Sebastian: it’s not my fault you taste like steak and gunpowder,” Jim commented idly. Sherlock started wondering about that, but Jim went on, “And we ended up in bed, but Sebastian was still keeping me pinned… and honestly it was wonderful and it was relaxing and I finally calmed down–the sex wasn’t too bad either–and then he let go of me, and I panicked.”

Sherlock blinked, “Pressure.”


“Like Tam and their weighted blanket, or like me and my coat: you calmed down from an overload because of pressure and security.”

Jim looked thoughtful, “Maybe? Close enough, I guess.”

“You…” Sebastian chewed on his lip for a bit. “Wouldn’t touch me for a long time, and after that it was… rougher.”

“If you mean I was an aggressive git? Yeah.”

“Not that the sex wasn’t good, but… I thought you were mad.” He amended quickly, “Angry mad, not insane mad.”

Sherlock shrugged, “I thought he was insane mad.”

“I think I was for a while.” Jim looked thoughtful. “I’m out of ginger ale and I need more ice.” He walked back into the kitchen.

Sherlock looked over at Sebastian, “You thought you’d raped him?”

“I don’t know if I would go that far, but… he was angry and he barely spoke to me for a long time.” Sebastian leaned back on the sofa, “I thought I’d done something, that’s for sure.”

Jim wandered back in with a full glass. “No, but by the time I got over it… other things had happened and… then I needed you out of the way for the fall.”

“WHY!?” Sebastian suddenly cried, “I got your message and I did what you said and I counted the MINUTES until you contacted me and that was the most STUPID, risky thing–”

“Because Mycroft never would have let me live after that, and he wasn’t the only one after me: you know that Sebie.” Jim said quietly. “I… I didn’t want you involved.”

“Because I would have stopped you!”

“No, because I was terrified you’d get killed, or put into those damned cells. I’d…” Jim trailed off.

Sherlock spoke calmly as he put down his empty glass. “What Jim is trying to say–and he’s about as terrible at it as I am–is that both of us would rather risk our own necks than those of our very few friends.”

Chapter Text

Sebastian looked like someone had hit him very hard in the solar plexus, except for the not “bent over double, gasping” part.

“I suppose it’s a good thing I retired,” Jim said making a face. “Caring about people…”

“You always knew how I felt,” Sebastian said a bit shakily.


“What do you mean, ‘No’?!”

Sherlock tapped Sebastian’s shoulder. “He means ‘No, he didn’t’. I rather expect it was the same problem I had–possibly worse. I expected John Watson to shrug his shoulders and either stay in our nice, comfortable, low-rent flat or move on with his life if I was gone long enough. I had no idea it would hurt him that badly–I only knew it would hurt ME if he was hurt.” Sherlock looked down at his glass. “Apparently, it hurt him a great deal. He finally moved on, though.”

“Watson? Why the hell wouldn’t you think he would be hurt?” Sebastian was staring at Sherlock now, which took a bit of the tension off Jim.

“I didn’t think he cared that much?”

Sebastian stared at him and then looked over at Jim, “Is… Did you drug him or something?”

Jim looked amused and snorted, “No. I’d say he was an idiot, but then I thought you would be happy to be rid of me and retire–or set up shop by yourself.”


“I don’t think I believed it until I saw the video of you being miserable and doing such stupid things. I only got in touch because I was afraid you were going to get captured.” Jim’s voice went up, “What the HELL did you think you were doing coming back to LONDON?!”

“Oh… you… never… You never asked about that.”

“You were supposed to have followed instructions to come here.”

Sherlock was watching this with intense curiosity, as it certainly told him more about the immediate aftermath of the roof than he had known.

Sebastian sighed. “I was setting up to kill Mycroft Holmes.”

Jim stared at him. “Are you out of your flaming MIND? How were you going to get away after THAT?!”

Sebastian just smiled and kissed Jim gently, “I wasn’t.”

Jim hurled his glass at a wall and stalked out. Sherlock got up and Sebastian grabbed his arm. “Unless he’s changed a LOT, let him get some of the violence out of his system or you’ll end up knifed.”

“He’s probably changed more than you realize, but I’ll be careful,” Sherlock answered calmly and went after him.

Sebastian counted to ten and, when he didn’t hear anything, got up and followed them outside. When he caught up with them, he honestly wondered if Jim had put a hallucinogen in his ginger ale: they were sitting up against the car hood together, not bleeding. He hesitantly came out and walked up.

“–apparently John took it very badly. Mycroft said it was good he met that woman,” said Sherlock.

Jim nodded, “That’s why I sent him here: mermaids and all, I thought–”


“You’re off duty, Tiger.”

“I’m confused is what I am.”

Jim put his Charlie mindset on and looked at him–really looked. “You really were in love with me, weren’t you?”


“I had no idea.” Jim saw the flinch and went on, “I didn’t imagine anyone could be.”

“If it’s any consolation, I had no idea John had any feelings for me beyond annoyance and friendship,” Sherlock said quietly.

“I got the impression John loved you and wasn’t entirely sure how that worked, what with not being used to men in his bed.” Sebastian sighed and held out a pack of cigarettes.

Jim took one and stared at it. “I haven’t smoked in years. Where’s your lighter?” Sebastian lit the cigarette for him and he coughed with the familiar but unaccustomed burn.

After a couple of puffs, Sherlock took it out of his lips and took a deep drag on it; he didn’t cough.
“You smoke like an amateur.” Sherlock’s voice, smooth and unbothered by the smoke, sounded deeply amused.

“Jim only smoked once in a blue bloody moon.” Sebastian shrugged.

Sherlock looked at Sebastian thoughtfully, “You knew John.”

“Ran into him in the sandbox, yeah.” Sebastian shrugged, “Didn’t know him that well, but… he was a crazy lunatic back then, too.”

“So, no men?”

“He had a weird almost-thing going with the Major–Major Sholto–but I don’t think it went as far as sex. I honestly thought you two were… Never?”


“If it’s anything for the betting pool,” Jim said drily, “I thought you two were… and if you weren’t before the pool, I figured you were after.”

“Sex…” Sherlock shrugged. “Sex was to pay for drugs, or because I couldn’t get drugs and I needed the endorphins or something–for the most part.” He looked at Sebastian, “Jim–Charlie–pointed me at the answer: apparently, I’m in the asexual spectrum… I can HAVE sexual attraction, but I don’t… don’t have it the way other people do.”

Sebastian leaned up against the car. “I like what I like–told you that when you came here the last time.” He looked back at the house, “So, can we get back inside?”

“Probably should,” Jim smirked faintly. “Some of us don’t tan as well as you do, Tiger.”

As they walked back in, Sebastian finally asked the question he’d been wondering about since he got over his shock, “So… have you two?”

“Have we two what?” Sherlock’s voice was amused and sarcastic. “Taken over the world yet? No–we seem to have been afflicted with friendship and morals.”

Jim snorted, “Ethics, dear; I still don’t have any morals–well, a few, but none involving consenting adults.”

“Had sex yet.” Sebastian frowned in frustration because of COURSE they would come up with non-answers.

“Oh, that.” Sherlock shrugged, “No.”

“Sherly was still recovering, so we left it at kisses and intellectual foreplay.” Jim was walking straight back to the master bedroom and didn’t even pause in the living room. “Which means I’m practically vibrating by now–you know how I get.”

Sebastian actually hissed. Sherlock cocked his head and said, “We never discussed it: how DO you get? You didn’t object to waiting.”

“Honey, that’s because you’re YOU… and I can wait. I’ve waited years: I can wait a few weeks or months until you feel better.” Jim gave Sherlock a very gentle hug. “But I need sex the way you need nicotine–it’s the one drug I never shook off, and it’s been two weeks.”

“Uh… then why are all THREE of us in the bedroom?” Sebastian asked warily.

“Well, Sherlock did say he was intrigued by you, and we did DISCUSS sex, Sebie, we just didn’t HAVE sex. We agreed that we can have sex with other people with prior approval.”

Sebastian felt hope and tried to crush it, “I always figured you would dump me for him in a heartbeat.”

“Moriarty would have,” Jim said with a smile, pulling off his slacks–he wasn’t wearing anything under them, or maybe he’d pulled them off at the same time–“Charlie has other options.”

Sherlock started unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m not recovered enough for anything even slightly exuberant. From what Charlie just said, he is in need of a chemical hit and you are the one other person he put on his list for pre-approval.”

“Did I die and go to heaven?” Sebastian whispered as he let himself be stripped rather quickly by Jim, “I must have–either that, or I’m drowning… Yeah, they always said that was a good way to go…”

“What would you have done if he’d said no?” Sherlock asked.

“Asked you if I could take you up on that blow job offer,” Jim answered, “and started going to the gym more.”

Sebastian was staring at Jim and the tattoos he had in more places that he could see now, and then he turned to say something to Sherlock and stopped.

“Wow, that… Right, Serbia.” Sebastian winced, “You look worse than Jim did after your brother–”

“Do you know I didn’t know what had happened?” Sherlock said thoughtfully.


“I knew Jim was THERE; I knew he was being interrogated; but I had no real idea of what that meant.”

Sebastian looked back at Jim to see if he bought that–apparently, he did. “I thought you knew.”

“I think, given my relationship with Mycroft, I imagined a rather unrealistic version of events.”

“What?” Sebastian was feeling lost again.

Jim sighed, “He forgot that how his brother treats HIM doesn’t have anything to do with how he treats people like ME.”

“Oh… Yeah, I can see that, I guess…”

“Anyway, nice ink,” Sherlock said cheerfully, looking at Sebastian. “That is the way to say that, right? It’s how Mickie says it.”


“One of my new friends and co-workers.” Jim shrugged. “Sherlock, you got naked: do you want to watch, or are you feeling better enough to get involved?”

“If you are in need of a fix after a long hiatus, I’m quite certain I wouldn’t be able to keep up; that said, I thought it would be pleasant if we did something together to start?” He smiled at Jim, “Or am I being too sentimental?”

“I could get used to sentiment.” Jim laughed, “Wanna replicate our first meeting?”

“No, I’m quite happy to be sober and able to remember it all this time.”

Jim got Sebastian behind him, “Make yourself useful, Tiger,” Jim almost purred up at him. “Drunk, high, and not even half-trying, he about blew my mind: hold me up.”

Sebastian had to admit that Jim had been right: watching that man on his knees was art.

Jim looked down at a sight he honestly thought he’d never see again, and it was even better with Sherlock’s eyes clear and his wits intact. He looked up at Jim with a wicked smirk and played his tongue briefly over Jim’s slit before he started sucking him down in earnest.

“Oh fuck, that’s…” Jim trailed off in a moan because Sherlock was alternately teasing him with his tongue and sucking him down. Normally he would be worried about his image even now, and it was so wonderful to be able to just let go.

Sherlock took him down his throat and glanced up to see Jim looking down at him with something that was clearly a bit of wonder and a lot of lust–and Sebastian looking at them both like he would eat them with cream. He swallowed around Jim and dragged his mouth off of him.

“Oh, God, Sherlock, don’t STOP!” Jim panted at him.

“I rather thought you might want–”

Jim grabbed his hair. “Less talk, more tongue!”

Sherlock smirked, “What is it that movie you had us watch said? ‘As you wish’?” Then Sherlock went back to work with determination and a gleam in his eye.

Jim buckled at the knees when he came, and if Sebastian hadn’t been a wall of muscle holding him up, he would be a heap on the floor. Sherlock sucked on him gently until he was done and pulled away with a wet sound that was enough to make Sebastian whimper.

“I should have taken you up on that sooner…” Jim finally managed to say.

“Truthfully, I couldn’t hold my breath that long until recently,” Sherlock admitted. “I would probably have fainted.” He caught the perplexed look on Sebastian’s face and explained, “Pneumonia.”

“Oh… Yeah, Jim had that,” Sebastian answered vaguely because his head was still buzzing around what he had just watched and all the blood was in his crotch instead of his brain.

“I believe Jim would be interested in more: I’m certainly capable of participating, simply not… aggressively.”

Jim smiled, and it was a delighted and predatory thing, “Oh, I think I have enough aggression for all three of us, don’t I Sebastian?”

“You usually do…” Sebastian felt light headed.

“Assuming you’re interested… I plan on fucking you into the mattress, and then, if I feel a bit more relaxed? Well, maybe we can revisit old misunderstandings–without a knife this time.”

Chapter Text

Sherlock looked thoughtful, “There is a fault in your plan.”

“Oh?” Jim paused, “What?”

“Unless your refractory period is rather extreme, I suggest you let Sebastian go first.”

Jim looked dubiously over at Sebastian and then sighed, “Tiger?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Think you’re up to it?”

“I’ve been UP to it since you walked in.”

Jim rolled his neck in that odd fashion he had–Sherlock had a sensation momentarily like vertigo, but it made Sebastian smile–“Well… Get up on the bed, Sherlock; I may as well return the favor while Sebie gets me warmed up.”

Sherlock did and Sebastian almost lost out to HIS refractory period–looking at a Nude Sherlock sprawled on his bed, with a predatory and nude Jim getting ready to pounce.

“I... uh… may not last long–DAMN, that’s hot looking.”

Jim smirked over his shoulder, “Then jerk off watching and I’ll nail you into the bed after.”

Sebastian whined.

Sherlock, who was lying on the bed looking intrigued and calculating, nodded, “Then that’s the answer: Jim gives me a blow job while Sebastian ‘warms Jim up’, as he said, and Sebastian gets a hand job.” Sherlock suddenly smirked wickedly, and it rivaled Jim’s evil smirk any day. “I believe three hands should make short work of him: by that point, Jim should have recovered and can proceed with his original plan of fucking him into the bed.”

Jim stroked his hands down Sherlock. “Brilliant.”

“Of course.” Sherlock pulled Jim into a kiss. “If you weren’t rather desperate for a fix you would have worked it out, I’m sure. However, we may have broken Sebastian.”

“Jesus…” Sebastian breathed as he seemed to have lost all capacity for speech. They were plotting it out the way Jim plotted out crimes and… and… Fuck it. Roll with it.

Jim went after Sherlock the way a drowning man goes for air. Sherlock must have been expecting more of a slow build because he arched off the bed with a muffled curse and his hands grabbed rather suddenly for the bed. Jim never let up for a second, and all Sherlock managed was rather musical moans and something that sounded like the beginning of words choked off into hums and groans.

Sebastian ran his hands over Jim, kissing and biting at his shoulders the way he liked, and then reached down to start to work Jim open and found a smooth ring securely in place.

Jim came up off of Sherlock long enough to say, “I did come prepared, Tiger, for one of you–or both. Leave it and move up where I can reach.”

Holy shit, he was wearing a plug… just… ready to…

Jim reached down and dragged one of Sherlock’s hands with him to grasp Sebastian’s dick. Both of them! GOD! Watching Jim not just sucking on Sherlock but looking like he was trying to eat him alive… The only reason he didn’t come the instant they touched him was that Sherlock and Jim’s hands were doing very different things…

Long fingers finding every nerve, slowly: exploring, assessing, and playing him like an instrument.

Short fingers rough and possessive, and almost violent… demanding…

Sebastian never took his hands off of Jim and Sherlock–he didn’t need to touch himself. He came suddenly, without warning, the orgasm surprising him when Jim’s demands lined up with Sherlock’s coaxing…

He regained his wits just in time to watch Sherlock come undone, silently, mouth open and eyes for once empty and wide.

Jim looked as though canary feathers should be dripping from his mouth instead of come as he moved to crouch possessively next to Sherlock. “You aren’t the only one with a talented mouth, William…”

Sebastian moved up to lie next to them, running his hands over both of them as though they might vanish. “I can die happy, really.”

Sherlock was pulling himself back together as Jim purred, “Not without me getting back a bit of my Tiger, you don’t–I missed you.”

“You missed someone who could shoot someone for you and then let you fuck him over the desk when I came in to report.”

Jim grinned, “Yes, I also missed your blow jobs under the desk: I was very fond of that desk.” He looked over at Sherlock, “I got a bigger desk just so he could fit under it; also, it supported him better when I fucked him over it: I’m considerate that way.”

Sebastian grabbed a pillow and hit him with it. “You enjoy humiliating me, don’t you?”

Jim blinked up at him, “Yes.”

Sherlock had managed to recover his usual voice, “The proof that he LIKED you was that he didn’t do it in public. He humiliated a lot of people in public, but never you, I would expect–likely not even in front of his other trusted people.”

“I always thought that was just about retaining discipline.”

“Well, it was that,” Jim shrugged and ran a finger across Sherlock’s chest, carefully orbiting his tattoo while he addressed Sebastian. “After all, I left you enough of the network that you could have picked it up if you wanted.”

“No. I kept in touch with the good snipers for a few months, but… after that? Better they thought I was dead.”

“True. Darling Rose wanted you so bad I could taste it.”

Sebastian laughed, “Nope, only room for one short professional killer in my life.”

Jim grinned up at him, “Tell me who they are,” he joked, “and I’ll end them.” He glanced at Sherlock, “That was a–”

“Joke, yes. You forget I can read you when you let me–and, in any event, I am somewhat better than Tam.”

“I’ve gotten used to explaining to Tam. It’s amazingly refreshing to have someone who will just tell you what they think with no tact.”

Sebastian leaned over and kissed Jim gently on the Memento Mori tattoo. “Time was you would have shot him.”

“Them,” Sherlock and Jim said together, and then Jim chuckled. “Tam is agender: they use ‘they’ as a pronoun.”

“Uh… is that important?”

“It’s important to them, and they are important to me,” Jim said firmly.

“They.” Sebastian shrugged, “Okay, just remind me.”

“Also, they were blessedly available for sex, because I would have gone mad otherwise.”

“I thought… I was the only…?” Sebastian asked hesitantly.

“That was before I showed up and we discussed terms.” Sherlock looked up thoughtfully, “Tam was available and interested in sex, and it wasn’t going to cause problems for their professional relationship.” Sherlock shrugged, “Tam is on my list, but I don’t expect to make use of my list of pre-approvals.”

“Mind my asking why not?”

Sherlock said, “No, I don’t mind. I’ve been finding out there are other people like me: it’s been… interesting. I’m not entirely sure of the labels yet.” He moved to sit up against the head board; Sebastian got a few extra pillows settled and they all ended up sitting up together on the bed.

“I don’t need sex that often. As I said, I mostly used it to relieve stress, for a mild chemical hit, and to pay for things.” Sherlock stroked a hand down Jim. “There are very few people I have looked at and WANTED… and, honestly, it’s usually not looks. I know you are attractive, Sebastian, but that alone wouldn’t interest me at all.”

Sebastian nodded, “You two were never about looks.”

“Looks were definitely a bonus!” Jim said cheerfully. “I mean,” he waved a hand at Sherlock, “all that and brains too?”

Sherlock was certainly not immune to flattery: he visibly preened.

“I simply don’t need or want sex that often–apparently Jim has a higher libido than I do, so I HOPE that you have a fairly high libido as well.”

“He does. He managed to keep me fairly satisfied most of the time during our games.”

“Good.” Sherlock looked a bit relieved, “Then I won’t have to worry about you not getting what you need when my interests don’t line up.”

“You… honestly aren’t jealous?” I can keep Jim? I can stay? “Even when you aren’t there?”

“Don’t lie to me about it and we’ll be fine,” Sherlock said very calmly. “You do interest me–not to the same extent Jim does, but you do–so it’s possible we may end up in bed without Jim as well, if that’s alright with you?”

“As long as it’s alright with Jim…”

“It’s fine: he’s me after all, I always said that.” Jim huffed impatiently, “How can you cheat on me with me–ridiculous! Now, if everyone has recovered enough and we’ve finished chatting, get your pretty arse bent over so I can fuck it.”

“I believe we should have further discussions of available sex partners–especially given the two of you having higher needs–but I do think it would be best to do so after sex.”

Sebastian was already moving into position when Jim grabbed his neck and hissed into his ear, “You wasted a lot of time not getting yourself ready, Sebastian: you’re going to hurt.” The threat and Irish lilt and familiar hand on his throat turned a switch in his head he hadn’t felt since Jim ‘died’: his pulse started racing, everything went sharp and clear, and every nerve in his body lit up.

“There’s my Tiger…” Jim purred and thrust a well lubricated finger into him.

It hurt, but not badly, and the last key in his head and libido clicked over and heat raced up his spine. He wanted to run, he wanted to melt–and it was Jim, and he could kill him and he wouldn’t even raise a hand to stop him… Sebastian moaned and braced himself on the bed.

“That’s amazing…” Sherlock breathed. “The difference…”

“Tiger has a hell of a submission and danger kink, doesn’t he? But not just for anyone: just me–us. This is mine.” Jim reached over and picked up a knife and started drawing the flat across Sebastian’s back as he added another finger. “He could fuck anyone he wanted while I was gone, but I’m the only one who can put him down.”

Sebastian could hardly hear him anymore: it felt like the ocean was roaring in his ears and his heart beat was going straight to his crotch.

Jim added another finger and commented idly, “I fucked him with a knife hilt once–he said he hated it and had the loudest orgasm you ever heard.” Sebastian was snarling, and every muscle twitched in his back but he didn’t move.

Jim handed Sherlock the knife. “Either wave that at him or put it down, but I need both hands.” Jim grabbed Sebastian’s hair and pulled his head up. “Give me a kiss Tiger, and then brace yourself.”

Sebastian turned his head and Jim kissed him and bit him and shoved into place like they’d never been apart.

Sherlock watched in fascination as Sebastian snarled, swore at him, threatened and twisted as though he was trying to throw him off, but never once raised a hand from the bed. Jim laughed and looked mad, fucking into Sebastian as though he would tear him in two, and if anyone saw this they wouldn’t have cared if it was Moriarty, they just would have shot him on principal, but Sherlock thought it was breathtaking.

Sebastian threw his head back and howled, begging to be touched, and Sherlock couldn’t stop himself and reached out…

Oh God this was hell, and heaven, and Sherlock was so precise and Jim was so wild and Sebastian honestly didn’t care if they cut his throat. He screamed when he came, and his spasms tipped Jim over the edge and he came with a snarl.

They collapsed onto the bed next to Sherlock.

Breathlessly, Sherlock said, “Jim, one day when I’ve recovered enough, I want to be under him when you do that…”

Chapter Text

The adrenaline crash always knocked Sebastian down hard afterwards. He ended up melted between the two of them, with Jim resting his head on Sebastian’s chest, and his head resting on Sherlock’s shoulder.

He dozed and woke, catching bits of conversation…

“–the hotel wouldn’t ever let us back–”

“–how did we both end up–”

“The ropes were wonderful, when my wrists heal–”

Finally, Jim poked him in the ribs. “Enough lazing about, Sebastian! I’m hungry.”

“So order something?” He opened an eye and looked over at him, “Blue is kind of weird on you, but I guess I can get used to it.”

Sherlock smiled, “If someone doesn’t get up and fix or order food, I will attempt to cook–that’s a threat.”

Jim groaned, “Based on how many apartments you’ve burned down, that IS a threat.”

Sebastian sighed, “Grilled fish?”

“Did you catch it?” Jim asked.


“Well, as long as it was never named Ariel or anything…” Sebastian hit him with a pillow.

Jim heated up some appetizers while Sebastian cooked fish on a grill. After a brief debate, it was decided that Sherlock could set the table and get drinks, because it seemed unlikely to set anything on fire. Sherlock muttered a lot, but couldn’t really contest the point.

Once they were settled down having something to eat, Sherlock got out a notebook.

“Alright, based on my observations we need to discuss the frequency and type of sex–”

“You’re kidding, right?” Sebastian stared at him.


Jim snickered, “Sherly likes to do everything like an experiment.”

“Not everything, but we do have some basic facts that need to be addressed.”


“The two of you have reasonably matched libidos from what you have said, which would be lovely except that you don’t live in the same state and America is bloody huge.”

“Okay…” Jim nodded.

“I have to return to England within two weeks at least long enough to deal with matters there. For at least the next few months, most of my time will be in England. This is not as major an issue for me as it would be for you two, as my libido isn’t as high, but it will be annoying. We therefore must resolve the issues of approved sex partners quickly.”

“Do we have to pre-approve them all?” Sebastian asked.

“No, but you should pre-approve any you know about. I would rather err on the side of NOT having to call a different time zone at the last minute.”

Jim winced, “Yeah, phoning England because you want a quickie is not going to work.”

Sebastian looked at Sherlock, “I take it you already discussed the fact that Jim is crazy out of his head jealous?”

“I’ve gotten better…” Jim mumbled into his fish.

“Yes, well, we didn’t discuss the fact that I’m apparently jealous,” Sherlock sighed.

“You are?” Sebastian looked dubious, “You seem pretty cool and calm.”

“After a great deal of consideration, I have to admit that I drove off every single one of John’s romantic interests, or even other friends, at least in part because I was afraid he would leave me.”

“Huh.” Jim looked thoughtful. “Are you going to be alright with Sebie’s mermaids?”

“I don’t think they’re in the same… category, so I should be.” He looked over at Sebastian, “Female mermaids only? And if any of them get serious, you have to tell us both? Or are any serious now?”

“I dated one of the princes–merman, male performer–but it wouldn’t be a hardship to stick to mermaids…” He grinned, “Although I will buy you a tail, seriously.”

Jim perked up. “Sherlock in one of those fancy silicone tails?” He started looking speculative at Sherlock.

“Kink negotiation after, please? Let’s deal with the allowed personnel first.” Sherlock looked firmly at both of them as though it was a business meeting and they’d skipped some of the agenda.

“GAH!” Jim stared at him. “Suddenly, I see the resemblance–more scotch!” And he ran for the kitchen.

“I look nothing like him!” Sherlock yelled after him.


Jim came back in with a wide eyed look and a bottle of scotch. “Seriously, Sherlock, stop it! If you take up wearing stodgy vests and a pocket watch–”

“He wears a vest because he likes pocket watches. I’m simply going to suggest that we consider that if someone is on one of our pre-approved lists, they are on all of our pre-approved lists.”

“I can introduce you to the mermaids…” Sebastian blinked at him.

“Delighted, but likely not for sex,” Sherlock said. “The three of us are in a relationship. Thus far, everyone else we are discussing is casual sex or ‘friends with benefits’, correct?”

“Correct, although so far there weren’t many people on your list, Sherlock.”

“There are very few people I actually have an interest in having sex with.”

Sebastian shrugged, “Other than you two? I’m currently seeing Emily–she’s a mermaid, but not one of the performers–fairly often, but I do try to make it clear I’m not looking to settle down. I’m generally well known among the performers and area mermaids–and yeah, a few of the other ladies–as a reliable and safe guy to hang out with or have an uncomplicated fuck. I’m friends with a lot of them, but…” He looked at Jim, “If you wanted me to dump them all, I would. I’d like to say goodbye and tell them it’s not their fault, if I could.”

“Same deal as before, Sebie: you take precautions and get tested regularly and I don’t care about your casual shags–as long as they aren’t male, and they aren’t serious. If any of them GET serious, I want to know immediately.” Jim glanced at Sherlock, “Is that alright with you?”

“It will work since we aren’t living together. If we were living together and Sebastian had a date… I might revert to habit.” Sherlock sighed, “I apologize, but it is likely.”

Sebastian just shrugged. “I’m not going to complain as long as you two don’t shut me out.”

Sherlock nodded, “Then I suggest that Tam be moved to the pre-approved list for all of us, first of all.”

Jim nodded, “It will make my life a bit easier.”

“I still don’t know what you’ve been doing or where you were,” Sebastian grumbled.

“New York City; and financial and investment portfolio management on the one side, and running a game company on the other.”

“Huh. I haven’t been to New York.”

Jim grinned, “So come back with us. We’ll get you a matching tattoo.”

“Dunno how it will go with my unit tat and my tiger, but… okay.”

Sherlock looked pleased, “Wonderful! The rest of the crew can meet him as well!”

Jim suddenly looked him up and down, “Errr… No one but Tam, Tiger: they’re the only one I can guarantee wont mess up the business relationship over it. Honestly, though, I don’t think Tam is your type.”

“I just got you back: I’m not looking for anyone else.”

“That brings us to the second point,” Sherlock was back to looking thoughtful and analyzing. “People who are OFF-limits.”

“Oh! Like my people at work… Yeah, off-limits unless we very specifically discuss it.” Jim frowned, “If one of them chooses to flirt, just make it clear you’re in a poly arrangement with me and it’s a potential work issue. If they still want, then they have to talk to me about it. I don’t want to risk the business or the friendships.”

“They’re that… open with poly stuff?” Sebastian looked a bit startled. “Some of the merfolk are, but not all… Your whole office?”

Sherlock pulled out his phone and started showing Sebastian office pictures. “Everyone is involved in something non-mainstream and they all talk to each other. I don’t know if all of them would be equally comfortable with a polyamorous relationship, but they should all be familiar with the idea.” While Sebastian was staring at the photos in fascination, Sherlock continued, “I never imagined I could be in such a relationship, frankly: I would normally be rather… unsettled.”

Jim grinned at him, “You always were insecure, honey, but you KNOW I’ve been obsessed with you for most of my life, so you know that as long as I’m alive we’re all tangled up together.”

Sherlock reached out and took his hand. “True. And now that we can be in the same room without trying to kill each other or our friends, you’re not getting rid of me.”

“For you two that’s…almost sappy.”

Jim laughed and Sherlock just grinned.

“But speaking of friends: back to off-limits.” Sherlock looked very seriously at them both, “My brother is an ass, but he’s still my brother.”

Sebastian looked horrified, “I do NOT want to fuck Mycroft Holmes!”

Jim looked thoughtfully at him, “You might, Sebie, if you met him under other circumstances: you always were partial to red-heads.” Jim shrugged, “I assume you also meant no shooting him?”

Sherlock was just staring at Sebastian. “It never even crossed my mind that anyone would want to have SEX with him… ewww…”

“Ewww? Did you actually say ‘Ewww’?!” Jim cackled.

“Yes, I did. Moving on, please…”

“No shooting Mycroft,” Jim sighed. “Ever?”

“Self-defense only. Try to keep to non-lethal means, and leave him to me.” Sherlock looked down at the table, “I know, I know he was… He’s still my brother.”

Jim squeezed his hand, “I haven’t done anything to him yet besides slurp coffee into the phone–I can manage.”

“Thank you.”

Sebastian cleared his throat, “So… you can go ahead and shoot my dad–for the love of God, don’t fuck him: there isn’t enough bleach in the world–but anyone so much as looks cross-eyed at my baby sister and I will flip.”

“Your father?”

“Sebastian Moran Sr.” Sebastian shrugged, “His brother is Lord Augustus Moran.”

“You… did a very good job of losing your accent.” Sherlock was staring at him.

“Comes of spending my childhood all over the world,” Sebastian shrugged. “Embassy and diplomat brat.”

“If my brother knows who you are related to, he never told me.”

“I’m officially Missing In Action, I think–presumed dead.”

“Sebie was captured,” Jim sighed. “They were going to execute him. I was trading weapons in that part of the world and bought him.” He reached over and petted Sebastian’s arm, “Best purchase I ever made.”

Sebastian actually blushed.

Jim grinned, “And if you ever wanted to know how damned sentimental I really am? I kept the desk.”

Sebastian put both hands over his face and moaned.

After Sebastian picked his head back up Sherlock sighed, “Back to off-limits: Jim, do you have any?”

“Other than the game crew and Louis? No… I mean, not for sex.” Then he paused, “Oh, yeah, one: Irene–absolutely not.”

“Isn’t she dead?” Sebastian asked dubiously.

“No,” both Jim and Sherlock answered together.

“You know it’s creepy when you do that? Okay, the bitch isn’t dead–can I shoot her?”

“No,” Sherlock said, at the same time as Jim said, “Sure.”

“Now THERE is a problem,” Sebastian said, sitting back.

“Not really,” Sherlock answered. “We simply assume that if any of us gives a firm ‘No’ that it’s off-limits unless there is an emergency.”

“Oh, I don’t NEED her shot, I just wouldn’t mind seeing her six feet under, but if it bugs you Sherly… but no sleeping with her,” Jim said firmly.

“I had no plans to.”


Sherlock sighed, “Basically, everyone you had snipers on is off-limits… plus Molly.”

“Fine,” Jim said.

“Errr…” Sebastian fidgeted. “I may have already slept with Molly–a fair bit.”

Two sets of very surprised eyes turned toward him.

“You… didn’t HURT her, I trust?” Sherlock said looking alarmed.

“Of COURSE not!” Sebastian protested. “Just recognized her in a bar when I was back in London, after, and we both were pretty miserable and ended up in bed. She had no idea who I worked for or anything.”

“You… and Molly…” Jim was looking a bit stunned. “I would think the constant talk about Sherlock would be a bit off-putting.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Most of what I heard out of her was ‘Oh GOD yes!’ and ‘Fuck me harder!’, so Sherlock never came into it.”

Sherlock flushed a deep, blotchy red and started coughing violently, while Jim just stared at him.

“Errr… We met up again in Bermuda… I sent her an invite to meet me and she took her vacation there… I may have suggested she learn to swim with a monofin and get a tail…”

Jim eventually started giggling and Sherlock started beating him with a napkin.

“It’s always the quiet ones, dear GOD…” Jim wheezed.

“We keep in touch and had arranged to meet up again on her next vacation, so if you two don’t mind, I’d kind of like her on my pre-approved list…”

Chapter Text

After a great deal of grumbling–and a vow of Sherlock skinning him if he hurt her–Sebastian was permitted to keep Molly on his pre-approved list.

“Which actually brings up an unrelated problem.” Sherlock sighed. “I mailed the letters to my friends telling them I am in fact alive… but I’m still concerned about some of your agents taking action.”

“Assuming you got the snipers we had on your friends–and you should have, they were NOT my best–no one else was assigned to–”

“I’m more concerned about someone who might feel they should do something out of misplaced loyalty.”

“Oh… hmmmm…” Jim frowned. “Maybe… Sebastian, do you think Rose…?”

“She… wouldn’t do it for you, boss, but… I dunno, she did chase me a lot…” Sebastian frowned, “and she was talking about retiring in London with that cover you helped her with… so she might still be in the city.”

“Is there any way to contact her and… assure that she doesn’t?” Sherlock asked worriedly. “I don’t want to trouble someone who is genuinely retired, but…”

“We’ll have to look her up, but it shouldn’t be difficult to find out if she’s still in London.” Jim pulled out his phone and started typing. “I insisted she create a Facebook page for cover, and one of my minor identities is on her friend’s list… there!”

Sherlock watched as Jim’s face went very still. “Sebastian…”

Sebastian saw it too. “Yes, Sir?”

“You need to call dear Rosemund and find out why she’s dating John Watson.”

Sherlock went white and Sebastian had to help steady him.

“I’ll call.”

Sebastian went to a safe and got out a cell phone. He plugged it in, texted something quickly, and hit send. “Now we wait for her to call back.”

“How long?” Sherlock looked utterly shaken.

Jim slid into an American voice, “She has to see the text, and then find someplace private enough to call back–it could be minutes or days, William.”

“Charlie… I told you, John is a NON-negotiable!”

“And I agreed… Rose had no orders like that, I swear!”

“Mary… Mary Morstan. According to John’s file, he has bought her a ring… he was going to propose…”

Jim pulled Sherlock over to the sofa and tried to calm him down. The phone chose that moment to ring.

“Midland’s Shipping and Receiving, how can I help you?” Sebastian answered the call in a South African accent. There was a bit of back and forth and then Sebastian put the call on speaker.

“You’re on speaker, Rose; I needed both hands free. Now, what the hell are you doing with Watson?”

“None of your DAMN business Seb! You vanished! I thought you were dead!”

“Safer that way, with big brother after the network. It was safer for everyone including you. I repeat, what the hell are you doing?”

“Are you coming after him?”

“No… In fact, he’s strictly off-limits, and I do mean that. If anyone goes after Watson, I may have to go after them.”


“Oh. So if that’s your idea, you best walk–”

“No…” Her voice got a lot softer. “I… I like him.”

“You? Rose, with all due respect… you’re about as cuddly as a viper.”

She snorted into the phone. “I LIKE him. At first it was just a lark, but… he reminds me of you, or our crowd, only… nicer.”

Sebastian laughed, “I’m plenty nice, Rose–I just wasn’t interested in you.”

“He’s not a cold-blooded killer like us, but he’s not… not soft. It’s… Look, it may be stupid but I like him!”

“Yeah,” Sebastian’s voice softened a bit and he looked at Jim. “Believe me, I know how that is.”

Sherlock was finally starting to relax.

Sebastian sighed, “Alright, I’m giving you a heads up and another warning. Sherlock is alive–”

“What?! That sonofabitch! John was utterly devastated!”

“Yeah? Better than shot full of holes, right?”

She sighed. “True.”

“He’s going to be finding that out really soon.”

“So… Wait, you said he’s OFF-limits?” a very puzzled Rose–or Mary–asked.

“Just so. I was checking on you because you were the only one I could think of who MIGHT do something off the books.”

“You think too highly of yourself, Seb.”

“It was a chance… If you actually do like him, then take that as a warning: no one is SUPPOSED to go after him, but there’s always the one person who thinks they have a clue…”

She groaned, “Christ… one of Moriarty’s worshipers thinking they’re doing a good thing?”

“Yup. That’s my concern.”

“I won’t kill Sherlock either–although I won’t get in the way–if John ever even suspected…”

“Sherlock is off-limits.”

“But…” She paused for a very long time. “Will you answer me a question, Seb?”


“Moriarty IS dead, right?”

“As far as I knew when I came back to London, he was dead… I inherited whatever of the network I chose to pick up–the answer was none of it. Stay retired, Rose… Either stay with Watson and keep him safe, or walk away quietly, but you need your game face on when he finds out Sherlock is coming back.”

He glanced over at Sherlock who was holding up a paper with the word “Mycroft!” written on it.

“Oh, yeah, and you may need to play the role in front of big brother, too… After all, with Sherlock coming back…”

“Jebem ti zivot!” she swore vehemently.

Sherlock jerked abruptly and a strangled noise escaped him.

“What?” Rose’s voice was suspicious.

“Told you I’m on speaker: I’m prepping for a party a few rooms away and it sounds like they might be getting rambunctious–I’ll talk to you later.”

“Come to the wedding,” she said abruptly.

“Wedding? Dayum, girl… If you send me an invite, I might.” Sebastian chewed his lip thoughtfully, “I can be your distant cousin, Seb Morstan.”

“Text me a post office box; I’ll send you an invite when we have the date.” And she hung up.

Sebastian hung up and shut down the phone.

“Wow… Rose actually…?” Jim sounded stunned.

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?” Sherlock was very tense.

“I never figured she would actually get attached to anyone, if you know what I mean. I didn’t think she could… but…” He looked at Jim, “I’ve been happy to be wrong before.”

Jim smiled at Sebastian and then hugged Sherlock gently, “Either she’s really developed some affection for him, or she just wants to retire and he’s handy, but she won’t cross Sebastian over ‘just handy’ so either one will be safe.”

“God, I hope so… I didn’t need that…” Sherlock looked a bit ill. “WHY was she swearing in Serbian?”

“One of her last assignments before Jim was in Belarus, and I know she’s worked all over the region–she speaks a lot of languages,” Sebastian shrugged. “She changed up languages to swear in a lot.”

“Come on, William, Sebie will lie down with you in the bedroom while I get cleaned up a bit.”

“Why do you need to clean up and he doesn’t?” Sherlock frowned.

“Because it’s been hours and food and if someone is going to shove a dick in my ass I need to clean up.”

Sherlock looked down and flushed, “Oh. Right.”

“You can just lie there and be inspirational, darling,” Jim said cheerfully. “Sebie? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Sebastian grinned and almost carried Sherlock back into the bedroom. “Help me change the sheets.”

“Aren’t they just going to get dirty again?”

“After everything we did earlier, would YOU want to be face down in these sheets?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’ll get this side.”


Jim came out to find Sherlock in bed with Sebastian curled around him.

“Don’t tell me I missed anything?”

“No,” Sherlock smiled and wriggled back into Sebastian a bit more. “I am informed I have a kink for being held.”

“Noticed it with the ropes last time…” Sebastian said smugly. “Works pretty well without.”

“Something to bear in mind when his wrists heal–unless you have padded cuffs?”

“Not yet… I usually work with rope if I do that sort of thing, but we could buy some.”

“New York–I know the good shops.” Jim smirked, “We can go shopping after we get the first tattoo done.”

“First?” Sebastian looked suspicious and then said, “I have two, and we were getting me the over-the-heart ‘Memento Vivare, Memento Mori’ one…”

“Oh definitely, Tiger…” and Jim’s eyes were glittering in a way that made his cock twitch, “but I always did want to have my name on you.”

“You carved your name on me!”

“It faded,” Jim said, running his hand over Sebastian’s flank, the J and M little more than faint white marks.

“You actually carved your name on him?!” Sherlock rolled over and stared.

“I… used to get a lot more jealous.” Jim sighed, “He slept with someone else.”

Sherlock stared at him, “At least I only ran off John’s girlfriends.”

“Oh… I ran them off…” Jim muttered. “I ran off anyone who even thought about it for a while–I got better.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, “He means he found you and stopped paying that much attention to me.”

“Maybe.” Jim sighed, “I still got better. I’m not upset about your mermaids, after all.”

“True.” Sebastian pulled Jim in and kissed him.

Jim relaxed into the kiss and then stiffened. “Good, all settled, enough mushy shit. Fuck me.”

“You sure? Look, not only do I NOT want to be stabbed, but I don’t want to wreck a good thing.”

Jim was fidgeting, trying to figure out how to explain when he locked eyes with Sherlock. “I want it–I actually like receptive sex–but I hate being vulnerable… too many bad memories.”

Sherlock looked thoughtful, “The first time will be the most stressful. After several times, you should get used to it and stop expecting to be hurt… I take it it’s more of an issue with someone larger than you are?”

“Yeah.” Jim sagged onto the bed. “Been hurt too often.”

“I’ll kill them slowly.” Sebastian was suddenly not cuddly at all. Jim always loved watching the shifts between his submissive Tiger and the man-eating killer, but Sherlock hadn’t seen it before and his eyes went wide and… Damned if his eyes didn’t blow to black.

“Sebie?” I think you’re exciting Sherly a bit much…”

Sebastian was suddenly on top of Jim, petting at him. “No one hurts you…” he growled–really growled. It should have been terrifying, but Jim felt… safe?

“Jim…” Sherlock spoke very softly, “Watch me… I’ll watch you… Sebastian? If I tell you to back off, you back off, understood?”

Sherlock would know if he panicked…. Sherlock would be watching to make sure Sebastian didn’t do anything… One of them betraying him might just be possible–not both… Jim relaxed and nodded.

Sebastian tilted his head at Sherlock, but apparently understood something because he moved and wrapped his hands around Jim’s wrists. Jim stiffened and Sherlock immediately tapped one of Sebastian’s hands and said “Yellow”.

Sebastian took one hand off slowly, but left the other one around Jim’s wrist… I’m okay, I could get loose, I can reach a knife if I have to… It’s… It’s Sebastian… he wouldn’t hurt me.

Sebastian used his free hand to tug on the anal plug and Jim moaned…

“Well, no question there…” Sebastian chuckled.

Jim saw Sherlock open a bottle of lube and squirt some into Sebastian’s hand… while there were wet slippery sounds behind him, he looked at Sherlock: Sherlock was trying to look unconcerned, but he looked worried. Jim kissed him, was still kissing him, when the plug was pulled away and Sebastian started pushing into him.

God, DAMN, he knew what he was doing… leaning into it and moving slowly, dragging it out until Jim was whimpering and finally snapped “Get ON with it!”

Sebastian moved his hands then, both of them, to Jim’s hips and started fucking him properly. Jim started feeling a bit ungrounded and suddenly there were slim fingers on his hands… Sherlock started stroking his arms… Sebastian was rocking him forward and Jim kept arching back into the motion…

Sebastian reached around to touch him and Jim came with a snarl that turned into a whine and then collapsed. Sherlock held his shoulders until Sebastian finished not long after.

Sebastian slowly curled up next to them and gently put an arm around Jim. “Are you alright?”

Jim thought about it, felt Sherlock’s fingers stroking down his chest, Sebastian’s arm over his shoulders…

“Yeah… oddly enough, I think I am.”

Chapter Text

They spent more time in Florida, mostly because Sebastian insisted on taking them to meet the mermaids and seeing Weeki Wachee.

Not far from there was a shop that made and sold mermaid tails, in materials raging from swimsuit fabric to molded silicone with scales. Sebastian was hoping to get Sherlock into one but then Jim surprised him.

“So, since our Tiger Shark has a thing for tails…” Jim smirked at the–gay and trying not to drool at them–artist who created the tails, “I thought we should both get one.”

“Really?!” Sebastian almost came in his pants.

“Really… But if I’m getting a tail, Tiger, so are you.”

“Uh… I’m a pirate?”

“So is William. If William can be a pirate mermaid, so can you.”

“If we’re both pirate mermen–not mermaids, thank you–then what are you, a siren?” Sherlock asked with amusement.

“Nonsense darling, I’m Irish: I’m actually a kelpie, but I’ll play at being a selkie or a merman if it makes you feel better.”

Sherlock resolved to look up the unfamiliar terms, especially since Sebastian looked a bit unsettled.

Jim ordered three custom tails: one for Sherlock, made with his skin tone fading into a black tail; one for Sebastian that was made to look as much like a Tiger Shark as possible; and one for himself that was the exact color of his hair and meant to look like a seal.

The artist took Jim aside and talked to him quietly and more money changed hands; all Sherlock and Sebastian could make out was “kelpie”.

“What’s a selkie?” Sherlock whispered.

“Seal skin changer: like a werewolf, only sexier and less violent,” Sebastian whispered back.

“So what’s a kelpie?”

“Sea creature that looks like a horse, or an attractive man, and lures people in and drowns them,” Sebastian whispered back.

“Figures.” Sherlock sighed, “Can’t he just be a merman that drowns people?”

“Merfolk don’t always drown you; that’s all kelpie do…”

“What are you two boys whispering about?” Jim sauntered over with the artist trailing behind to look at his ass.


Jim smirked, “Well our tails will take a bit to be finished and then he’ll mail them to me in New York so we’ll have them for our next vacation. Did you know there’s a mermaid convention?”

“Yes,” Sebastian nodded.

“We should go,” Jim said firmly.

Jim and Sherlock looked at each other and then smiled predatorily at Sebastian. Sebastian whimpered.

Two days after that they were back in New York, with Sebastian in tow.


Charlie sauntered into work with a smug look.

“Have a nice vacay with William?” Bobbi asked.

“Yes,” he grinned, “and even better, my old lover and William and I worked everything out and we’re a trio now.”

“What?” Mickie startled badly.

“Wait, what old lover?” Gwen asked.

“Geez, he’s not jealous?” Steven asked, and Charlie wasn’t sure if he meant William or Sebie.

“Go you!” Gabi grinned.

“Do we get to meet him? Her? Them?” Steven asked.

“Him. Seb is definitely a him.” Jim’s grin was threatening to escape his face. “They’re currently both sulking over who’s prettier and has the better coat.”

“Better coat?” Tory sounded so confused that Charlie had to bite his lip not to snicker.

“William’s coat was pretty awesome,” Tam nodded.

“Seb has a PIRATE coat–William is worrying his lip and fretting his pretty cheekbones over it.” Charlie laughed.

At that point, everyone heard two voices in the hallway.

“Get IN here–you’re both pretty!” Jim shouted.

“I am not, I’m handsome!” William grumbled as he walked in, followed by Sebastian, who just grinned his crooked smile and said, “I don’t mind being pretty: I’m secure in my masculinity.”

Jim watched the shock hit the office with malicious glee.

Gigi turned to Charlie and said in a low voice, “You are an evil, evil, son of a bitch–taking more than your fair share.”

Maia whistled, “Oh, my goodness, I need to write more pirate fics.”

“You write?” Sebastian asked.

“Fan fiction, mostly.” She looked a bit embarrassed.

“Really? I love the stuff. What fandom?”

Before she could answer, Mickie asked, “You do? Do you write?”

“Nah, just read.”

“Sebie is being modest: he has a published book out,” Charlie said, getting his phone out and setting up to record.

“Well, it’s… different. I like fan fiction, too.”

“Your book almost IS fan fiction, Seb. You based some of it on what happened between William and me, and some of it on classified military actions you were involved in, and, as far as I can tell, waved the entire thing over a cauldron containing James Bond and Jason Bourne.”

Sebastian looked a bit alarmed at the mention of ‘what happened between William and me’ and Charlie just sighed, “They know who I am Tiger–I did mention.”

Sherlock commented casually, “Sebastian was one of Jim Moriarty’s agents. His book is a fictionalized account of a few incidents of his time as a sniper, including the one where he had me under the scope. I’m buying a copy today for the plane trip home.”

“Oh?” Alice asked and everyone was looking at him expectantly.

“Ever heard of ‘Shooting Pool’ by John Sebastian?” Sebastian asked politely.

There was a moment’s silence–Charlie had already set up his camera to record, William noticed–and then there was pandemonium.

Over the babbles, questions about the possible upcoming movie, questions about sequels, and requests for details, one voice rang out: “OH, MY GOD! I wrote FAN FICTION based on that!” and Giselle fled from the room.

Eventually, work resumed in the office, Sebastian was introduced to Tam–and promptly agreed that Tam was in no way, shape, or form his type–and everyone went out to sushi that evening–Giselle apparently unable to look at William or Sebastian without blushing.

“It’s weird seeing you with… all these normal people,” Sebastian admitted to Jim–Charlie.

“Don’t insult my friends, Tiger,” Charlie grinned. “Normal is a dryer setting.”

“We still need to discuss tattoos, and then sadly I will need to head back to London for a while,” William admitted as he carefully picked through the sushi for textures he liked.

“What needs to be discussed?” Sebastian frowned.

“Always discuss tattoos!” Mickie called from the other side of the table.

“In addition to the words, which we are all getting identically, I was thinking that it would be pleasant to have tattoos for the two of you–also, it will drive Mycroft batty, which it shouldn’t as my tattoos are none of his business, but it will.”

“That’s… sweet,” Charlie admitted. I will NOT sniffle.

“So I guess I’m a Tiger, what’s Jim?” Sebastian asked.

“You might be a tiger, or you might be a pirate,” William said thoughtfully, “but Jim said he admired feathers, and at one point said that he had an especial fondness for Magpies.”


“So I thought I should get a tattoo or tattoos of some sort with a tiger and a magpie.”

Jim–Charlie, really, with all his friends here–looked thoughtful, “So I get a tiger tattoo and what… a violin? Or are we sticking with animals?”

“Whatever reminds you of me–but I want approval, because if it’s supposed to be ‘me’ I don’t want to be upset by it.”

“You always seemed like an otter, somehow,” Charlie grinned, “but I think that’s just your expressions. I’ll probably stick with a violin and some music or something.”

Sebastian was trying not to break down but ended up hugging them both.

“Sentiment,” huffed William, but he hugged him back.

“Definitely,” Charlie laughed and reached down to pat Sebastian’s crotch. “Among other fine qualities.”

“Do that again and you will never be able to come back here because I will fuck you right over the sushi bar,” Sebastian growled quietly into Charlie’s ear, although–judging from the flush and interested look on a few faces–not quite quietly enough.

“Don’t be silly, Tiger, I’d have you suck me off under the table,” Jim said as calmly as if he was asking for the soy sauce. Half the office crew looked embarrassed while the other half were calling encouragement up until Gwen said, “No! This is my favorite sushi place and you are NOT getting us thrown out! Take your two handsome boys back to your own place… and then tell us all the juicy details in the office later.”

“I think that’s our cue,” Charlie laughed and dragged the rather embarrassed looking William and grinning Sebastian out.

When they got back to Charlie’s apartment, Sherlock fidgeted a bit. Jim cocked his head and waited.

“I still get exhausted a bit too soon, and I know I can’t be as active as I might like, but… I would like to do a bit more with you before I have to leave.”

Jim looked at Sebastian and grinned. “We could tie you down and have our wicked way with you: you wouldn’t have to be that active, darling.”

Sherlock swallowed and made sure he had a hand on something solid, for some reason he suddenly felt a bit wobbly. “That would be… fine…”

“So for tonight you get rest, we buy nice padded restraints tomorrow, and then, after Sebie gets his tattoo, we come back here and fuck you every possible way we can before we pour you onto a plane home–sound good?”

All Sherlock could do was moan.

The next day, Charlie picked up restraints on his lunch break, sent Sebastian off for the Memento tattoo, and ordered dinner delivered to his apartment–along with a few other things. He had Tam go over how to clean up properly with William: as Charlie had suspected, no one had properly taught Sherlock about some realities of anal sex and Tam was a less embarrassing instructor for him.

“Oh, my God, boss, this is better than a tail…” Sebastian was staring down at Sherlock.

Sherlock was lying nude, blindfolded and restrained in black leather, on black sheets. He was a study in black and white, and Jim was just marveling…

“Sherlock, darling, when you get those tattoos? PRETTY please consider sticking with just black ink? You are SUCH a picture…”

“I might do what you did and use color only as an accent…” Sherlock’s voice was shaking, but not from fear: just being restrained and admired like this was overwhelming.

Sebastian crept onto the bed like Sherlock might somehow run away–not that he could–and started stroking him and murmuring, “God, you are so beautiful…”

Jim stood back, “Sherlock, remember: green, yellow, red. I’m going to be participating, so I don’t want to miss a cue that we went too far.”

“Green, definitely…” Sherlock gasped.


Larger hands on his chest, smaller hands on his ass. Fingers in his mouth, followed by a cock–Sebastian–and fingers moving inside him–Oh! Jim!

Whispers in his ears in two voices: “Beautiful, oh God your mouth, deadly, Sherlock, mine, safe, William, going to destroy you darling,”

He had a mouth full of Sebastian and then Jim took his fingers away and he was in him and it was so much better than New Orleans… He came, moaning around Sebastian.

Then two sets of hands were massaging him and wiping him down and then Oh God that was someone’s TONGUE! And Jim was in his mouth before he could say anything, and then Sebastian was inside of him and had his arms around him and he couldn’t move, and there were hands and skin and pressure and…

More… Oh, God… More!

His mind was blissfully quiet until he woke up in both of their arms, unrestrained, sometime in the morning.

“So, did we ravish you enough?” Sebastian chuckled.

“God yes, do it again.”

Jim smirked, “Gomez, last night, you were unhinged. You were like some desperate, howling demon. You frightened me… Do it again!”

Sherlock frowned, “What?”

Jim sighed, “It’s from the Addams Family movie… you should watch it sometime.”

“Didn’t you watch movies?” Sebastian asked.

“Not very much: mostly pirate movies, and not many of those.”

“I’ve seen every pirate movie that I ever heard of!” Sebastian said proudly.

“You two English pirates…” Jim laughed. “Both of you should be utterly respectable and here you are in my bed.”

Sebastian grinned, “We are no members of the common throng; we are all noblemen who have gone wrong.”

Jim cackled and actually sang, “No Englishman unmoved that statement hears, because, with all our faults, we love our House of Peers.”

In a very puzzled voice Sherlock started, “I’m really at best a Squire, and you aren’t at all English, Jim–”

“Oh, my GOD, you don’t even know Gilbert and Sullivan?!” Sebastian howled. “How can you call yourself a pirate and never have seen The Pirates of Penzance!”

They packed him off to the airport with a video player and a DVD and orders to watch it.

Sherlock looked at the grim expression on both men, “I take it there’s a test?”

“Nonsense, darling,” Jim said in his most pleasant–and thus most murderous–tone, “a singalong. Best be sure you have it memorized.” The last thing Sherlock heard before boarding was Sebastian suggesting they could make Mycroft sing at sword point if Sherlock flubbed his lines.

He watched it–twice–on the flight; after all, he had no idea if Mycroft could sing.