Chapter Text
Sherlock was bored. He kept trying to start some sort of halfway intelligent conversation with John, but would sigh in frustration when his brilliant observations were met with nothing more than an mmhmm or a distracted oh yeah? John wasn’t even really doing anything. Sure, he was shuffling through a stack of papers on the coffee table – paying bills or balancing his cheque book or something equally mindless – but he should have been able to carry on a conversation at the same time. Surely. As far as normal people went, John was really quite bright. Sherlock only wanted some attention, damn it, and John just wasn’t giving it.
Sherlock would need to pull out all the stops, then. He got up from his chair and slunk over to the sofa where John was sitting engrossed in the boring paperwork. He plopped down right next to John and laid his head on John’s shoulder.
“I’m bored,” he said again for probably the thirtieth time that hour.
John grimaced and sighed. “Sherlock, I told you I’m busy. There’s been some kind of mix up with our utilities and the bank … damn newfangled automatic billing … but I need to figure out … oh, bloody hell, where did that one sheet go …” he trailed off, flipping through the papers frantically, searching for a missing document.
Sherlock’s eyes skimmed over the table and saw what John was obviously looking for. He grabbed the paper and waved it in front of John’s face.
“Looking for this?”
“Ah, yes, thank you …”
Sherlock yanked the paper away just as John was reaching for it. John frowned.
“Sherlock, I’m in no mood for games right now. Give it here. Now.”
The tone he used was very close to John’s “dominating” voice. Sherlock was pretty sure it wasn’t intentional, but it sent a shiver down his spine. Now he was getting somewhere. He stood up, dangling the paper above John’s head.
“No,” he said, grinning down at John’s annoyed face. “I think it’s time you had a break.”
“I’m not messing around, Sherlock. This is important. I’m at my wit’s end with this mess. And you’re partly to blame, you know. Ever heard of filing paperwork? Or perhaps not just tossing the mail all willy nilly around the apartment, hm?”
Sherlock rolled his eyes and then danced away with the paper as John jumped up trying to make a grab for it.
“Sherlock! Give me that paper right this instant or else.”
John was most definitely using his dominating voice on purpose now, and Sherlock’s eyes dilated with arousal. “Or else what?” he taunted, somehow sounding both innocent and bratty at once.
John crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You know what.”
His no-nonsense tone made Sherlock’s stomach twist in anticipation. Yes! he thought, filled with glee that he finally had John’s undivided attention. He tried to hide his excitement, but he could feel the grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He quickly cast his eyes downward and away from John’s intense stare and shrugged nonchalantly.
“Oh, well, I don’t know, John. I assume you’re too busy for all that …” he was pushing it, he knew, but he needed the attention, the distraction from boredom and idleness so badly.
John raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat. He stared at Sherlock with a menacing gaze. “I’d suggest you be careful now. Are you looking for a spanking, Sherlock?”
The detective’s face flushed and his heart began to flutter in his chest. Yes, yes, yes! Finally! He had already won, so he went all out and snorted derisively. “Well, surely you can't possibly spare the time for something like that." He crossed his arms and gave the papers on the coffee table a pointed look. "Honestly, John, the water company accidentally withdrew payment twice, obviously. The extra money you think is missing from the account was from that midnight Chinese food run we made a week and a half ago after I solved that simple movie theatre case.”
John faltered, looking distracted. He quickly began to shuffle through the paperwork again, and relief flooded his face. “Of course!”
Sherlock couldn’t help but smile smugly. John looked up at him, and Sherlock’s smile vanished at John’s furious expression. “If you knew,” he began, his voice low and dangerous, “Why didn’t you tell me, damn it?!”
“I-I … I thought you would figure it out rather quickly, actually, but … I just didn’t think about it, I suppose.” He trailed off and looked down, shuffling his feet.
“Right, of course. You were too damn busy thinking about what you wanted, weren’t you?” Sherlock swallowed hard, beginning to feel nervous. John actually sounded really angry now, but he knew it was already too late to backtrack. Besides, everything about John’s demeanor was sending vibrations of pleasure coursing through Sherlock’s body. “Do you want a spanking, Sherlock? Is that what you’re after?”
Sherlock’s face flushed in embarrassment. “W-well ... maybe. Y-yes,” he admitted.
John raised his eyebrows. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s what I thought.” Sherlock’s heart pounded in excitement as John walked slowly towards him. John gripped Sherlock’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Ask me for it, then."
Sherlock swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. "P-please, John, sir. Will you ... will you give me a spanking?" His face blazed with embarrassment. John smirked.
“All right, then, Sherlock. You're going to be punished for being such an insufferable little brat.”
Yes! Sherlock was buzzing with anticipation. John released his chin and walked to the umbrella stand near the door. He pulled the cane out and it whistled as he gave it a sweeping test swing through the air. Then he used it to point down the hallway.
“Ok, Sherlock. Let’s go to your room.”
No! Sherlock’s heart sank. The cane was not the same as a spanking. Not at all. The cane was awful. It stung badly. He hated it. “Wait, John – wait … no … please, no …”
“Stop whining this instant, Sherlock. You know better. You don’t get to choose your punishment, now do you?” Sherlock pouted a little, but shook his head. “I’m going to teach you not to manipulate me. If you want something you need to ask instead of misbehaving on purpose. You also really need to learn some patience, you know. I can’t always just stop what I’m doing to give you what you want at a moment’s notice.”
Sherlock shifted in obvious discomfort throughout John’s lecture, alternating between balling his hands into nervous fists and stretching his fingers straight. “I’m sorry, John – sir,” he murmured when he was sure John was finished with the verbal chastisement.
“Good,” John gave a curt nod. “But you’re still going to be punished. Now march yourself into your room this instant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Sherlock bowed his head and scurried off towards his messy bedroom with John following close behind.