It didn't work, John!

Chapter 1

"It didn't work," Sherlock said, and then he put his lips back on John's lips.
"What didn't work?" mumbled John.
Sherlock parted their lips again, but held John in his arms.
"John," he said slowly, as if he needed to think about what he said.
"John, I'm a high-functioning sociopath now."
"Well, I doubt that," growled John. Sherlock went on undaunted.
"In any case, we both know that I'm not very adept at dealing with social norms."
"Indeed, Sherlock, indeed."
"And now it is you who are trying to teach me the norms of social interaction."
John sighed. It was, and it wasn't an easy job. It's not as if Sherlock didn't try hard enough. He knew trying hard enough was the right thing to make John happy, he understood that.
And if there was one thing he understood in all the confusion of interpersonal matters that was important to him, it was to make John happy.

"And one of the things you tried to teach me is that certain private things are not to be discussed in public, right?"
"Yes, that's true, Sherlock."
"And if I was to judge correctly, would you say that this front staircase in the Holmes-Lestrade house that we're standing on now also falls into the public category, John?"
"Well, that depends on how private those things are."
"Very private. You'd probably describe them as intimate."
"Then you've got that right. Even the stairs in both our brothers-in-law's house are too public for anything intimate."

Sherlock turned and went for the door to leave the house.
John held him back.
"My dear, let's say goodbye, let's not rush off. I'd also like to thank them for listening.
"Oh."

Hand in hand they walked up the stairs where Greg and Mycroft were still standing, amusedly following the dispute.
"Thanks for listening," John said, shaking hands with them both.
"No problem," Greg said, „you're welcome."
He smiled.
"After all, you've brought me a five pound profit."
Mycroft elbowed his husband in the side, but smiled as well.

So John and Sherlock headed home to 221 B B Baker Street.
Sherlock was in a hurry. He seemed to want to get out of his system what he had to tell John. Even in the taxi, he was silent, listening to John chatting. Though it was obviously difficult for him.

Once home, they made themselves comfortable on the sofa.
John insisted on making a pot of tea before they talked. Sherlock did all the work. John was pleased with that.
Yes, there was no denying that Sherlock was increasingly doing things he thought John would be pleased.
When the tea was poured, John said:
"Well, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?"
"John, it didn't work."
"What didn't work? Sherlock, I'm not following you now."

Sherlock took a deep breath.
"Now, John, I know I was a bit annoying earlier. With my parents, in the restaurant. Teased you in a way that you usually like, but which you felt was inappropriate because of the context."
John groaned annoyed.
"Oh, hell, yeah."
"In a way, I've actually achieved my goal. We left the horrible conversation with my parents and went home where we made love to each other. Well, John, you were a little rough..."
"Yes, and I'm sorry about that."
"No, John, don't apologize. There's no need, because I enjoyed it."
John swallowed. That was new. And it confused him.
But Sherlock kept talking.
"Still, I suppose it wasn't enough to allay your anger at me, so you picked up your belt and..."
He was looking for the right word.
"...well, I guess you'd put it like this: you spanked my arse."

John turned bright red with shame.
"Honestly, Sherlock, I'm really sorry for losing my temper like this."
"No, John, you're apologising again in the wrong place. Let me explain, okay?"
John sighed and nodded.
"Right. So, John, you did this to punish me, right?"
"Yes..."
"Good. So... you punish a certain behaviour because you hope that in order to avoid being punished again, the person concerned will avoid the behaviour in question. And this behavioral correction is the desired result. That is logical."
He looked at John questioningly.
He nodded again. The way Sherlock explained it, the way he could grasp it, with logic, did not fit in with John's strong feelings about the situation.
But that was his fiancé.
"And that's exactly what didn't work," he tore him out of his thoughts.

John shook his head.
"Sherlock, I still don't understand what you're trying to make me understand."
"Well, John, that's not what happened. I have been given no incentive to avoid this sort of behaviour in the future. Because I...liked the punishment. Somehow, in a way I don't even understand, it caused me pleasurable erotic sensations."

Now John choked on his tea.
Okay. He's had to think about that for a while.

"The way I see it, John, there are two problems. One, you're going to have to find some other form of punishment for me if this system of behavioral correction is to be effective."

John didn't bother to explain to him that he had no intention of doing that, that it was a slip that he felt sorry for... He wouldn't understand it, because he had already saved what had happened as a logical sequence of actions, and logic was not something he could do against.

"And the second problem is that I would like to understand it. And therefore I ask you to repeat this thing, so that I can find out what it is that makes me feel these feelings."
Now John's peace of mind was finally gone. He put the cup on the table, clinking loudly and about to make a protest, when Sherlock's mobile phone rang and prevented him from answering it.