Читать книгу A Question of Time - Jamie Ashbird - Страница 14

‘Don’t call it that, Sherlock, I beg of you.’

‘Come now, John, Old Boney only wants to say how do.’

‘And I shall greet him with good cheer but if you persist with the name Old Boney I shall be warming my bed instead of yours.’

‘Ah, but my Old Boney is much prettier and by all accounts much taller than Old Emperor Boney-parte. See here his rosy complexion?’

‘It’s with thanks to that Old Boney that I returned to England half an invalid.’

‘Awful man. I’ve a mind to go off and give him what for for injuring my own precious John.’

‘You mock me, you rogue.’

‘Not at all, my dear. But here, look.’ Sherlock gripped his Boney and gave it a waggle. ‘You have a chance to punish my Old Boney. He needs a good thrashing and you are the very man to do it.’

John growled and moved like a whirlwind to straddle Sherlock’s long bare legs. ‘A thrashing? I hardly think that would be sufficient for such a tyrant.’

‘No?’ Sherlock huffed as John rolled his hips.

‘Oh, no. I’ve a much more punishing ordeal in mind. Brace yourself.’ John leant in to murmur in his darling’s ear. ‘This won’t hurt, much.’

Every inch of Sherlock’s skin quivered at those words, hummed in his love’s baritone.