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Fic: His damp touch [BBC Sherlock]

Title: His damp touch
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: R for disturbing content
Characters: Charles Augustus Magnusson, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes
Length: 285
Alternate Link: AO3
Warnings: Implied rape/non-con.
Author's Notes: Written for the watsons_woes JWP 2015 Prompt #7: Unwanted attention. Unbeta'd. Spoilers for 'His Last Vow', including a particularly unpleasant deleted scene. Mind the warning!
Summary: He covets Sherlock's hands.

Magnusson reached out and flicked John's left eyebrow. John's eye flinched closed.

Magnusson chuckled. "Come on. For Mary. Keep it open."

"Sherlock?" John called out uncertainly.

"Let him. I’m sorry." Sherlock said quietly.

"This is even more enjoyable than I'd hoped. You know, John, I think I'd like to see you fuck him," Magnusson purred.

John helplessly looked over at Sherlock. Sherlock's face was blank, but his shoulders had gone tight, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "We're not –" John said.

"Oh, I am aware," Magnusson interrupted. "You are heterosexual, as am I. And Sherlock, to Janine's great disappointment, is completely asexual. In fact, I would say that he finds the touch of others … repulsive." The light of the approaching helicopter glinted against Magnusson's glasses. "That's what makes this particular exercise of power so very," he slowly wet his lips, "stimulating."

Mycroft's voice called on them from the helicopter to step away, but Magnusson waved it off. "Its fine," he yelled. "They're harmless!"

"Don't worry, John," he continued under the steady beat of the helicopter blades that had once meant rescue, "I don't expect you to bugger him the moment we walk in the door. We'll work our way up to it. Have Sherlock touch you with those musician's hands of his, get you hard. If you participate enthusiastically enough, I'll keep my role purely voyeuristic. If not, well, I could always get more hands-on. There's an almost feminine beauty to him, isn't there," Magnusson mused as Sherlock shuffled closer, as if attempting to hide from Magnusson's view behind John's broad back. "Like some coltish, terrified virgin facing her lord's jus primae noctis."

The gunshot echoed from the glass windows of Appledore.

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