So this chapter ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be. I hope you like it. I don't like the beginning, but didn't feel like re-writing it.

Here you go :D

John did a double take. "I- what- you're not serious, are you?" He said, looking at Sherlock in shock.

Sherlock turned back to the television. "Of course I am. Have I been known to joke?" John stared at him, open mouthed. "No. You can't be ser- Sherlock, you've lost it. Gone off the deep end. Maybe you need some tea." John made to get up and get Sherlock a nice hot cup of tea, and maybe slip a few sleeping pills into it (He kept a bottle in the cabinet for the times when Sherlock refused to sleep but was getting to the point where it was unhealthy). Sherlock was next to him in a split second.

"Don't you dare slip me any sleeping pills, I know that's what you're thinking. And no, I'm not crazy, even though you think I've totally lost it. I'm being serious, I could do it, bring some change to the world. I don't know." He shrugged, "Change things. Maybe stop criminals. I mean, that's what I do, isn't it?" He searched John's eyes for any spark of understanding, but there was none. "John." Sherlock said softly, trying to shake John from whatever shock he had gone into. "John!" He said a bit louder.

John started. "Okay.. so you're going to… er… take over the world. Or England. Or Europe. Right. How exactly do you plan on doing that?" He asked, eyeing Sherlock carefully.

"I don't know." He said, putting his hands behind his back and pacing across the floor. "I'll have to somehow infiltrate the government. Get enough people in there to the point that there's no way they could get me out. Like an infection. Except one that can't be cured with antibodies. The antibodies being the police, of course." He said, gesturing to John for clarification. "I'd have to start out small, only getting into one little part at a time, making sure they don't suspect me. I could always ask Mycroft for help. No." He dismissed that idea immediately. "Although, I could steal some of his information and use it for my cause.. Yes. I'm going to do that. John, will you help me?" He turned to John, who by now had gone back to his newspaper.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes. Sure." He said.

"John, I'm being serious." He said, frowning.

"Yes, Sherlock. I know. But tonight it's late. Have a seat, watch some telly, drink some tea, take a nap."

"Boring. I want to do something exciting. We never do anything exciting." He walked into the hallway that led to his bedroom. "We're going out!" He called. "Get dressed. Look nice. We're going to a club."

John rolled his eyes and pulled himself up out of his chair, wondering where they were going this time.

They walked down the stairs of a club with an obscure name, the entrance of which was in an ally. John was a bit concerned with this whole set up, seeing as there seemed to be a drunken man slumped against the bins in the back. He glanced at Sherlock, who kept his eyes forward, a small smirk on his face. John had no idea what they were doing at this place. He had never been there before, and knowing Sherlock it could be anything. They went through the red painted double doors and down a flight of steps to a smoky lounge crowded with people, smelling strongly of whiskey and cigarettes. Sherlock inhaled deeply, feeling the nicotine-infused smoke filling his lungs and sharpening his senses. He took John's hand and led him over to the bar, speaking quickly to the bartender over the hum of voices. He handed John what he assumed to be a vodka and tonic, before telling him to wait there and disappearing into a back room. He emerged a short while later, two ladies hanging off of either arm, and approached John with a small smirk on his face.

"Alright, John." He whispered low in his ear. "Pick one of them. There are rooms in the back. Whoever you choose will lead you there. Condom packets are in the drawers. Make sure you use one."

John looked at Sherlock, stunned. Sherlock had brought him to a… sex club? This was very unlike Sherlock. Very very unlike him. Although he seemed to have had connections, judging from the beautiful and scantily clad women standing next to him. The one to his left was a blonde bombshell with startlingly green eyes and long, sinewy legs that made John feel inferiorly short. The woman on the right had shockingly red hair and contrastingly blue eyes. Or at least he thought they were blue. But in the low light they also had a subtle hint of purple. John downed his drink in a hurried gulp, motioning towards the scarlet haired woman, who turned and led him behind a magenta curtain. Behind the curtain was a hallway lined with doors numbered from one to fifteen. The smell of cigarettes was even stronger back here, mixed with the slightly sweet scent of other drugs, and the air was tinged with a bluish smoke that wafted towards the ceiling.

The woman reached door number four before pulling a key from between her very large breasts and opening the door to the room. On one side of the space was a black leather couch, flanked by two small blue tables. The room was painted a dark color of which John couldn't tell. She pulled him inside before shutting the door and pushing John forcefully against the opposite wall. She ran her hands down his chest and whispered in his ear seductively, "My name's Marielle. Hello, John. Sherlock's told me so much about you. He's been a particularly… good… customer."

John's mind fleetingly went to an image of Marielle pressed against Sherlock's willowy body, sending a hot shot of electricity to his crotch. Marielle pressed against him, looking down and smiling at the small bulge between John's legs. She looked him in the eyes. "I hope you're ready for me, John." She was barely an inch from his face. "Because," She cupped his crotch, making his gasp, "I'm ready for you." She closed the distance between them, encasing John's lips in hers, her hot breath penetrating his mouth. He slid his tongue inside hers enjoying the feeling of another person against him. It had been so long. She traced the outside of his lips with the tip of her tongue. A moan of longing escaped his throat as she palmed his straining cock from the outside of his pants.

"Come with me," She breathed, pulling him over to the sofa and seating him at one side. "Now." She said, "Here are the rules. You aren't allowed to touch me until I say so," She got on her knees on the couch and leaned over him, hot breath on his face. "But I can do anything I want to you. Now.. to start out.. you're going to sit there.. and no matter what, you can't touch yourself."

She leaned back on the other side of the couch, looking him in the eye as she pulled her bra off. John stared at her beautiful breasts. She was at least a C cup with dark nipples, already hard and pointing straight out. John licked his lips trying hard not to show how much he wanted her. She began to softly massage her breasts, making sure to stare right at him with her large eyes, and seductively lick her full, pink lips. She playfully pinched at her nipples, biting her bottom lip and throwing her head back in pleasure. Marielle moved one hand down to the lining of her black lace panties, teasingly fingering at the waistband.

She looked at John, the most innocent of looks on her face, "Do you want me to put my hand in there, sweetheart?"

John nodded his head so hard and fast that he got a crick in his neck. He tried to ignore the painful straining of his cock against his pants zipper, as she slowly stuck one finger into her panties, rubbing slow circles around her clit. He moaned. She took that as a sign of encouragement, putting more and more fingers into her panties, finally slipping them down to her knees. She spread her legs, looking at John from under her long eyelashes.

"What do you think, John?" He gaped at her wonderful pussy, glistening wet in the soft light. He subconsciously leaned towards her, wanting to feel her wetness on his hands, on his cock. She sat up quickly and pushed him back, straddling his lap. "What did I tell you? She said, biting his neck and whispering in his ear. "No touching." John could feel the heat from her body seeping through his pants. He couldn't help it, letting out a moan. She looked at him, "Do you want me, honey?" He nodded feverishly. She undid his zipper, slowly, before gasping at how large his cock was. Totally hard and dripping with precum, she licked her lips. "Mmmmmmmm." She said, licking the head. Marielle licked slow, small circles down his shaft before taking the whole thing into her mouth. She looked at the small clock on the table opposite the couch. "Oh…" She whispered, kissing him softly on the cheek. "My time's up. I'll be seeing you, John Watson." And with that she stood up and left the room, not even bothering to put her clothing back on. Sherlock stumbled against the doorway, taking in the sight of John, pants around his knees, raging boner, dazed expression, and smirked.

"Come on, John. Pull up your pants, we've got to go."

In his stupor he also thought Sherlock had said something along the lines of "Or don't" But dismissed the idea before exiting the nearly empty club.