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Forever and Always

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John woke up alone. The other side of the bed was cool, so Sherlock had been gone awhile. Sherlock-

John sat up, wincing slightly as his sore muscles protested, the previous night rushing back as he shook the sleep from his eyes... telling Sherlock he loved him, hearing it back, taking Sherlock to bed...

John sat there in shock. He'd slept with Sherlock Holmes. He'd slept with Sherlock bloody Holmes, and Sherlock hadn't complained; if anything, he'd encouraged John to keep going, to teach him, and then Sherlock had taken over and John had been begging for mercy, for more, for Sherlock to- to...

John got up, stumbling for the shower, trying to process his thoughts and feelings, unable to get Sherlock off his mind. The water relaxed his tense muscles and soothed the bite marks on his neck. Sherlock had been very exuberant when it was his turn and had insisted on kissing and biting every place his teeth and tongue and lips could reach at least twice. John let the water push the memories back and wash him clean. Stepping from the shower, he toweled dry and went back into his room, tugging on a clean pair of pajama bottoms and lying back down on the bed, his head finally starting to get used to the idea. The bed smelled of him and Sherlock, and John was overcome by a desire to see the man again, to talk to him, to take him. Grabbing his mobile, he texted Sherlock.

Miss you, Sherlock. -JW

Can't stop thinking about last night. -JW

You're bloody amazing, you know that?-JW

He was starting to think the detective was ignoring him when he got a response.

You flatter me too much, John. -SH

And I miss you too. -SH

You were fascinating. -SH

John grinned, feeling heat creep into his face.

I'm blushing. -JW

And I want to do it again. Soon. -JW

Addicted now, I see. -SH

Well, I should rephrase that. I want to do you again. -JW

And you bloody well know why. -JW

John hesitated, and then typed and sent three words.

I love you. -JW

Sherlock responded a few moments later.

My, my, Doctor Watson is being quite vocal. -SH

I love you too, John. -SH

That was all John needed to read.

Come home. -JW

Screw Lestrade, he can wait a day. -JW

It'll get you away from Anderson. -JW

He could just see the smirk that would make Sherlock's lips twitch at that last one.

I think you were delicious. -SH

Well, are. Be there soon. -SH

John was flushing like mad now, desire starting to burn in his gut.

In my room when you get here. -JW

Tempting. -SH

I should hope so. -JW

Pajama bottoms, no shirt. -JW

Lovely. -SH

Don't you want me to bring you milk? -SH

John raised an eyebrow, sure this was a joke. Sherlock never went to the store, and now was not the time for him to start.

You did say you want me to buy some... -SH

Screw. The. Milk. -JW

Later. We'll go together. -JW

His phone was silent, and John was growing restless, his mind assaulted with images, things he wanted to do, to try.

Thinking of you, want to run my hands through your hair. -JW

You're being such a tease. -SH

I know. -JW

I want you so bad I can't see straight. -JW

I'm going to suck you dry, you gorgeous doctor. -SH

Those words made John gasp, feeling his pants start to strain.

...I think I just got hard. -JW

Which was my intention. -SH

And you say /I'm/ the tease. -JW

I just followed your example. -SH

You are the fastest learner I've ever met. -JW

John waited a few moments, impatience getting worse with every passing second.

How slow is your cab today? -JW

Indefinitely. -SH

Prat. -SH


How am I a prat? -JW

You're the prat. -JW

But you're my prat. -JW

And I love you. -JW

Too much, John. -SH

Your girls will cry over you. -SH

What girls? I haven't held down a lasting relationship in ages as you well know. -JW

He heard footsteps and the door to the flat open and close.

Is that you downstairs?! -JW

Well, the girls you always date. Too bad for them that I won't let you go. -SH

John felt a rush of warmth flood him, a smile of joy crossing his features.

I'd hope not. I don't want you to. -JW

I'm not going to let you go either. -JW

Good. At least we have a mutual agreement. -SH

And yes, I'm downstairs. -SH

"About bloody time."

Thank god. -JW

But I won't go there yet. -SH

Where? Up here?-JW

You lost me, genius. -JW

Up on your body, doctor. Me hovering above you. -SH

While pressing kisses all over your wondrous body. -SH

"Oh, Christ..."

Just drank some water. Here I come. -SH

John heard Sherlock's footsteps on the stairs. "Door's open," he called.

"How very enchanting, John," Sherlock purred as he slowly opened the door.

It took all of John's willpower to stay on the bed when all he wanted was to run to Sherlock's arms, shove the detective against the door and kiss him into oblivion. Sherlock smirked as he stayed on where he was, taking off his shirt as he tried to be as antagonizingly slow as possible. "I thought you were on at the clinic today, darling."

"Traded with Sarah today." Darling! John couldn't lie still and got up, slowly walking toward Sherlock. "Missed you," he murmured, sliding the man's shirt the rest of the way off and wrapping his arms around the detective's neck.

"You clingy prat," Sherlock murmured affectionately as his hands snaked down to cup John's arse. "Maybe I should go away for a week... see how that would affect us."

John growled as Sherlock groped him, slowly backing Sherlock up so he was against the wall. "I think I'd lose my mind," he whispered, breathing on Sherlock's neck, not touching him with his lips yet.

"We should have done this earlier..." Sherlock trailed off as he slowly tugged the pajama bottoms down, revealing a very taut and aroused John. "We could have enjoyed our bodies more."

"We have all the time in the world now." John undid Sherlock's belt, slowly pulling it out of the man's trousers before unbuttoning the black fabric and sliding it off Sherlock. The taller man hissed as his manhood was revealed, and he unconsciously squeezed John's arse as he stepped out of his trousers and pants. "You're my universe now, Doctor Watson," he moaned.

That was all John needed. Shoving Sherlock back and trapping him against the wall, John kissed him, pressing their lips together, tongue fighting for entrance into Sherlock's mouth, the detective agonizingly denying him. Sherlock finally opened his mouth and welcomed John's very excited tongue, dancing with it in fiery passion. Their moans were the song they were following, and their bodies were enjoying the rhythm. "J-John..."

"Yes?" John didn't want to stop, but something in Sherlock's voice made him hesitate. Withdrawing slightly, he looked up at the detective. "Is everything ok? Are you ok?"

He needed John... he needed John right now. Sherlock never gave in to his carnal pleasures before this, but with his doctor, everything changed. "Take me, please..."

"Gladly." John kissed Sherlock again, pulling him over to the bed. They fell on the mattress together, bodies tangling together, hands stroking and grabbing and pulling. Sherlock let John do all he wanted to him; he knew that this was what he wanted all along. All these repressed emotions finally being revealed during their love-making underneath, or this time, on their sheets. "Mhm... Johnn," he purred, hands roaming here and there to touch every inch of skin he could.

John rolled on top of Sherlock, straddling the taller man without breaking the kiss. The doctor began grinding against his consulting detective, their arousals stroking each other, pressing Sherlock into the sheets that smelled of John. Sherlock groaned in despair; he wanted, no, needed more of this great, wonderful man. Sherlock's kisses turned more desperate, hips bucking up to feel more of that delicious friction. John grinned against Sherlock's perfect cupid's bow mouth. "Now who's addicted," he purred, running his hands through the detective's hair, losing himself in the dark curls.

"Shut it," Sherlock growled, nipping John's already puffy lower lip to stop him from embarrassing him more while squeezing his right arse tenderly. He did love John, but as one not used to the feeling, he still wasn't very sure if his raw passion was fine.

"Relax, this is normal you adorable idiot," John chuckled as he saw Sherlock's anxiety in his eyes, growling softly as Sherlock groped him again. Reluctantly leaving the detective's mouth, John kissed his way down his lover's chest, paying attention to the man's pert nipples before kissing all the way down to Sherlock's shaft, kissing the tip very gently.

Sherlock would have questioned how John actually knew what was going through his mind, but his kisses, his hot attention on his body blurred everything else. He became a helpless heap of moaning idiot under the power of John's mouth, hips uncontrollably spazzing to have more of his lover's attention. "P-please... John..."

John's tongue flicked out, swirling around the tip of Sherlock's cock before pulling the detective into his mouth, sucking and licking for a moment before getting to work. The raven-haired man gasped out with the wetness, and his fingers immediately clutched for the comfort of the bed sheets. He didn't want to cause John any pressure, but he also wanted more... emotions really were too tedious.

John established a steady rhythm before reaching for Sherlock's hands. He placed the tapered fingers in his hair before is owns hands went to grasp Sherlock's hips for support, gently pressing Sherlock to the bed. John Watson was perfect, too perfect for him. Groaning like one in heat, Sherlock urged John on by massaging his scalp, pulling the hairs once in a while. "I... I'm c-close... J-John... gorgeous John..."

...and John pulled off, kissing Sherlock's cock again before climbing back up to kiss his consulting detective. "I want you inside me," he moaned into Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock almost complained at the sudden stop of the pleasure, but he was taken aback with the kiss and the request. That was... damn. Placing his hands firmly on the blonde's shoulders, he flipped their positions and a mischievous-looking detective smirked at John. "Your wish is my command."

John gasped as Sherlock's mouth went to work on his torso, squirming under Sherlock's playful touch. Sherlock moved his right hand to tease more of John's cock, only to gather the man's precum to moisten his naughty fingers. As his mouth suckled and claimed the blonde, his fingers went inside that tight hole, scissoring their way inside. John gasped and moaned, hands flying to Sherlock's hair and face. "Kiss me," he breathed, body twitching. "Kiss me when you enter me."

Deeming that John was already prepared to welcome his needy manhood, Sherlock raised his face again, but not kissing the other just yet. "I'll stop when it hurts, all right?" he murmured. Slowly, he guided his cock inside the hole, entering with caution as his lips finally sought John's. John whimpered, kissing back with complete abandon. "If you stop, I'll..." the threat trailed off as Sherlock's tongue stroked John's. Sherlock groaned as he pushed forward some more, letting his entire length be squeezed by John's tightness. "J-John!"

"Sherlock!" John couldn't breathe, adjusting to feeling so full. Even after doing this the night before, he didn't know if he ever would get used to it. Sherlock paused inside, and, to distract John even for just a bit, decided to playfully suckle on the blonde's tongue. John moaned loudly, hands burying themselves in Sherlock's dark curls. His lips brushed Sherlock's whenever they could, the taller man driving him wild with desire.

"All right?" Sherlock moaned on John's lips as their tongues continued to dance with fervor and appreciation. He was definitely addicted. John's hips bucked against Sherlock's, pulling the detective as close as he physically could, growling softly, "Fuck me, Sherlock Holmes."

With that encouragement, Sherlock growled back. He pulled himself out, but not without a strong hiss, before pushing himself in again. Out, in, out, in, the detective making sure to hit John's prostate.

John whimpered and squeaked as Sherlock hit his sweet spot every single time; for a man who had been a virgin the night before, Sherlock was bloody amazing in bed. The noises he was making were going straight to John's balls and heart. He kissed back, trailing his lips down the detective's jawbone to his neck, John's lips fixing themselves to the tender skin just above Sherlock's jugular.

He could do this for hours, for days even. The thrill of a murder was nothing compared to the high that John was so generously providing him. And in response, Sherlock knew he had to give his all. He had to lavish his lover with everything he had. Pushing in more roughly after he changed his angle, the detective gripped the blonde's waist tighter, holding on to make his thrusts deeper.

John cried out, the pleasure of it all driving him mad. He didn't care if Sherlock left bruises in his hips, he just wanted to be closer the man, the detective, his brilliant lover. Feeling high and coy and very playful, John brought his gaze back to Sherlock's before taking one of the detective's hands and putting it on his very hard cock. "Please," he whispered.

Sherlock made his rhythm in stroking John's very hard and huge length in time with his thrusts. And because all of his weight was now placed on the other hand (although he knew that this wasn't much of an inconvenience since he didn't weigh much anyway), their thrusts and the music of their moans filled their room. Mrs. Hudson might even kill them later, but that was not a problem. He teased John's head with a flick of his finger, making sure that it was at the same time with his poke on the man's prostate.

John shuddered, feeling his body clench and unclench, head rolling back as his back arched, pressing him closer to Sherlock. "Yes, oh God! Fuck me! Sherlock, you're amazing!"

Sherlock knew he was close from the string of curses his mouth was pouring from his mouthing. He wasn't conscious of them anymore. "Shit... fuck John... yes... yes, come for me, for me..." Again and again Sherlock thrust into John, and again and again did he feel the intense amount of pleasure. Sherlock's cursing pushed John over the edge, shuddering, thrashing, clenching around Sherlock's cock, coming all over Sherlock's chest and hand, crying the detective's name in wonder and bliss.

Feeling his length being squeezed inside, it only took two more thrusts until Sherlock followed with his own climax, shouting out John's name with complete abandon. He continued thrusting lightly to ride out the waves of pleasure while the doctor's hole continued milking his manhood. John rode out Sherlock's orgasm, thrilled to hear Sherlock shouting his name of all things and in such a desperate, pleasured, perfect baritone voice. It was good to share the post-orgasmic wonder with a beautiful man. "Lovemaking in... the middle of the afternoon..." He would have chuckled were his lips not being captured by his lover. "It's good..."

John smiled, breaking contact so he could look into Sherlock's piercing blue gaze, softened by his release. "It is, isn't it?" His hands gently rubbed his lover's naked body, fingers dancing down the detective's ribs, delighted to discover Sherlock twitched when John's fingers dragged over his ribcage. "Is the great Sherlock Holmes...ticklish?" John felt his lips twitch into a smirk. Oh, this would be fun.

Widening his eyes at the passing of nimble hands on a sensitive part, Sherlock grumbled. He should have been prepared for this, but it was better for John to find out now. At least he could be on his guard next time. "Of... of course not!" he protested, nipping John's lower lip as if he reprimanded him. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Liar," John purred, rolling them over so he was straddling Sherlock, nimble fingers stroking and brushing the detective's ribs, giggling as Sherlock squirmed underneath him.

Sherlock was helpless; he was wriggling and struggling to get free of those deadly tickles, but he just couldn't escape. He was controlling his laughter as well, and his face contorted weirdly in doing so. "J-John..! No... John!" Sherlock even tried to tickle his lover back, failing spectacularly. John laughed, speeding up, fingers flying to Sherlock's armpits and knees now, experimenting, testing, planning to try the detective's feet last. "You can't keep your laughter in forever, Sherlock."

"I'm... I... You..." Sherlock said breathlessly, still wiggling like an idiot underneath this gorgeous man. "I'll... John! I'll- you'll p-pay for this!" Finally giving up, loud, rich laughter echoed in the room, and Sherlock succumbed to everything else.

"You can try!" John's voice was sing-song as he slid his fingers down Sherlock, drinking in the sound of the man's laughter, brushing over the detective's sensitive member before settling for the detective's feet. Sitting on Sherlock's ankles to keep him from escaping, John went to work, stroking the soles of Sherlock's feet, flicking and tickling the toes, his body shaking with laughter, taunting his detective. "Bet you can't make me stop!"

When Sherlock had the will, he could have the strength of a rhinoceros. He laughed loudly, not really liking the sound that much, but once he mastered the stimulus, he grasped John's shoulders tightly and switched their positions. Sherlock was now straddling John's waist and legs, a triumphant smirk tugging upon his lips. "Oh yes, I can, Doctor Watson."

John gasped at the speed with which Sherlock reversed their positions, suddenly nervous and excited, his body buzzing. Raising one eyebrow at his lover, he said, "Oh, really? "

"Yes, sweetheart," Sherlock growled, but not before attacking John's wonderful neck with open-mouthed kisses. He went down, licking his throat, then continued with kissing the blonde's shoulder and chest. John's eyes fluttered closed, utter bliss settling over him. "Sherlock, your tongue is fantastic," he moaned, one hand finding Sherlock's cheek and stroking it. He looked up at John and smirked, only to put in his lips the bud that so teasingly taunted to be taken. Sherlock knew that John was ready for another round, and he was willing to provide that just to see that wanton look on the beautiful man's face again.

John met Sherlock's gaze, face flushing rapidly. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was hard again, and it looked like Sherlock was going to help get him there. Just the thought of Sherlock's cupid bow lips around his cock made the sore member twitch and start to grow hard. Suckling hard on John's nipple, Sherlock's left hand went on to tease the other, while his right caressed the blonde's stomach. "Made you..stop, Doctor." He made sure that his words vibrated against John's chest, to make him squirm some more. "What do you want me to do, mhm?"

"You distracted me is what you did," John whimpered. Sherlock was everywhere once more, setting the doctor's body on fire. "I want you to suck me, and then I want to fuck you."

Just hearing John like that made Sherlock moaned deeply. "I'd like to ride you, darling..." he murmured against the bud he was still lavishing. Deeming it already well-prepared, the raven-haired man moved his lips down, making sure that his tongue still was tasting John's skin.

John wound his fingers in the dark curls once more as his cock snapped to attention. "Hurry, love..." he breathed.

Tasting a bit of John's release on his stomach only invigorated Sherlock, and he moved down quickly without warning, taking in John's whole length in his mouth. John groaned as Sherlock's hot, wet mouth closed around him, tightening his drip in the detective's hair. Sherlock made sure that his tongue twirled and lapped all of John's precum, sucking softly, teasing the doctor below him, cupping John's balls and massaging one delicately. He pulled away with a pop, and proceeded to lick his length, then suckle his other ball.

John growled roughly, yanking away from Sherlock and pinning him to the bed, kissing the man hard, tongue flicking in and out of Sherlock's mouth the way his cock would soon be thrusting in and out of the detective. Sherlock moaned helplessly underneath this raging beauty. If he had only known how much John would lavish him, he would have courted him ages ago. He responded with equal passion, letting their fluids mix and their desires match with each other. John reached down and stroked Sherlock's length, gathering the precum on his fingers before slipping one into Sherlock's entrance, stroking gently.

"J-John..." It was a bit painful to be breached like this, but he knew, judging from John's reactions, that it would be glorious afterwards. He bucked his hips to allow the finger to dig deeper in his entrance. John worked fast, adding his second and third fingers when Sherlock relaxed enough, continuing to kiss Sherlock's swollen lips, whispering "I love you" against them, letting the detective swallow his words.

Sherlock was drowning with John's love, and he knew that he could never choose anyone else anymore. As a response, Sherlock bucked his hips more, signifying that he was ready. John positioned himself, tip just brushing his prepared lover. Taking a deep breath, he kissed Sherlock hard and rough as he slid in. Distracted by the sweet and delicious kiss, Sherlock hardly felt the breach until he realized that John was already inside him. "Fuck..." he muttered against their mouths, eyes squirming in both pain and pleasure.

John felt a rush of desire as he heard Sherlock curse, knowing that he was the one doing this to the man. He kissed him harder, tongue stroking the detective's as he started to thrust in and out of Sherlock. Sherlock's hands gripped John's arse to push him in more with every thrust, tongue battling for dominance as their lower bodies continued to grind together. His prostate was touched oh-so-perfectly, and he re-adjusted his hips to receive total pampering. This animal side of Sherlock was something John never thought he'd get used to. Moaning into the detective's mouth as John felt the younger man's hands grope him hard, John sped up, striking Sherlock's prostate with each movement as he continued to ravish Sherlock's mouth.

"C-close... John!" Sherlock almost screamed as the pleasure overwhelmed him. He wanted more- he wanted everything from John. He wanted John. He needed John. "Come on..." he cooed over and over again while teeth were now involved in their furious kisses. "Some more... John... "

"What? What do you need?" John was dangerously close as well.

"You..." he gasped out. "Your hot and heavy cock to ahh! s-spill your deliciousness i-in me..."

John groaned, loving when Sherlock talked this way. Breaking the kisses to stare into Sherlock's eyes, he whispered, "Come with me."

A nod, and Sherlock clutched his own manhood and started to stroke it at the same rhythm that they were following. They were like animals who were repressed from any sexual encounters since their birth, but it was all the more better like this. "Ahh... J-John..."

"Scream my name," John growled, thrusting has hard as he could.

"John... John...", Sherlock said again and again, the volume increasing as he felt being on the edge. "JOHN!" finally screaming out his name, spurts of hot, white seeds spilled into his fingers and onto their stomachs as his climax came. Sherlock's desperation had John cresting, and the start of the other man's climax sent him flying over the edge, coming in Sherlock, hips pounding erratically as he rode out both their orgasms, screaming the detective's name, Sherlock clenching deliciously around him.

Spent and still muttering John's name even though his breathing was much more voiced out, Sherlock immediately snaked his hands on John's waist and pulled him to his body, not even letting the other man's crotch get out of him completely yet. He just wanted this-to be one with and filled up by someone he loved.

Chapter Text

Thinking that John was still going to be a while before going home, Sherlock curled up on the sofa, hugging his knees. He missed John even though he had seen the man just hours ago, and yet he needed him. He needed to touch him, to just be with him... Oh John.


John sat in the clinic, bored out of his mind and thinking of Sherlock. He checked his phone for the ump-teenth time in so many minutes, no idea what to say but wanting to hear from his love. He nearly dropped his mobile when it buzzed, scrambling to open the text.

Miss you. :( -SH

Miss you too. -JW

Can't stop thinking about you. -JW

Hating my bloody job right now. -JW

Come home now? Please? -SH

John had never known Sherlock to ask him to come home this way. Screw the clinic, Sherlock needed him.

Don't have to ask twice. -JW

I love you. -SH

I love you, too. <3 -JW

John grabbed his jacket and signed out with Sarah, claiming a family emergency, texting Sherlock as soon as he walked out the door.

There. Done. On my way home. Do we need anything? -JW

I don't care. I need you. -SH

I don't want to let you go. -SH

John's brow furrowed as he read the new messages, walking a little faster than before.

Sherlock, you don't have to. Running home. -JW

I'm a bit scared that you'll find someone better... -SH

Almost home. We're going to talk-JW

Because you're bloody gorgeous and everyone wants you, and I'm a sociopath that everyone hates. -SH

I can't lose you, John. I'd die if I did. -SH

Here, coming upstairs-JW

John burst into the flat, finding Sherlock curled up on the sofa. "Are you ok?" John asked, worried.

"John..." Sherlock automatically said as he perked up, scooting a bit so his lover could sit next to him. John couldn't move fast enough, bum barely hitting the sofa before he was pulled into an embrace.

"Oh John... please be more patient with me," Sherlock muttered as he buried his face in the crook of his lover's neck. "I'll prove myself to you... just please don't let go..."

"Hey, hey," John said softly, hands reaching up to stroke Sherlock's gorgeous inky-satin curls and hold the man closer. "What's wrong?"

"I watched a movie," Sherlock replied with a hint of a pout in his voice. "This man left this girl because she wasn't exerting enough effort in their relationship. Please, John... please don't leave me... I c-can't..."

"Since when do you watch movies?" John started rocking the man back and forth, scooting closer so he could hold him better. "And as far as exerting enough effort-Sherlock, how can you possibly think I would ever let you go much less leave you for good?"

"I was bored," he complained with a whimper. "So I tried watching one..." He tried to cram himself more into John's body, wanting to be encapsulated in that comfortable warmth forever. "I love you so much, John... I don't want anyone else... I would do everything anything for you... you know that, right? I love you... I love you John..."

"Shhhhhh," John whispered, resting his cheek in Sherlock's curls, occasionally kissing the top of the detective's head. "Listen to me: I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere. I love you, you bloody crazy genius. I love you so much I think my heart will burst sometimes."

"Even if Mycroft is more intelligent than I am?" he asked as he slightly pulled away, eyes searching for the truth in John's eyes. "Even if we'll be old and gray and hunch when we walk? John... John, I love you, John. I need you in my life..."

"Sherlock, whenever I'm within 10 miles of your brother, I want to punch him in his poncy face," John replied, holding back a chuckle as his worried detective sought out his gaze. "I want to die at the same time as you, asleep in your arms and you in mine, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock's eyes softened at the mild insult directed at his brother, and embracing John again, tighter this time, the detective sobbed, "Oh John... I promise to do my best for you... I'll give you everything you want...I love you, John. Thank you... I love you... I really, really do." Since the start of their relationship six months before, sulks had somehow been replaced with these kinds of tantrums, the younger man struggling with being emotionally attached to his beloved.

"You already do your best for me, why would I make you strain yourself?" John held Sherlock again, snuggling close to the detective. "You know I love you too, you know I have since that night at Angelo's before we ran all over London together. You rescued me, Sherlock Holmes, I can't ask any better than that."

"Thank you..." Never had he felt anything like this; John really was the most perfect being in this world. "And... And I'm really sorry when we run out of milk or anything you needed... But I still thank you for everything because it really is you who rescued me, you idiot." He kissed John's cheeks over and over again. "I was cold and selfish and numb and stupid and everything, but you came, and you taught me how to love-"

"-And I was broken and alone and defeated and you breathed life back into me. And I don't care when we run out of stuff; I love arguing with you about it because I can tell you secretly care. Plus, your face is so beautiful when you're mocking me for wanting you to go outside." John smiled as Sherlock kissed him over and over, still stoking Sherlock's soft, curly hair.

"Idiot," Sherlock muttered against their quick, awfully sweet kisses. It seemed that he still had a chance at a normal life, after all. "But don't be anyone else's idiot, all right?" He pressed a long, but still chaste kiss on his lover's lips before finally pulling away. "I want to be with you forever, John... I want to be the cause of more of your happiness. I want to have more memories of you which I forbid to be deleted because all of them will be precious and beautiful."

John sighed into the kiss, "I won't, promise," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with tears as Sherlock talked about future memories. "I want to be with you forever too, genius. Can't you deduce that?"

"We'll love each other, and we'll make love to each other endlessly." Sherlock breathed out, heart fluttering in excitement at the thought of a life with John. No one else would match their dedication to each other. "Marry me, John?"

John felt his stomach drop away, and then he was kissing Sherlock, straddling him, pressing close, pulling him close, whispering, "Yes" over and over until he shouted it to the world, "Yes, Sherlock bloody Holmes, I will marry you!!!"

Sherlock actually didn't know what slipped his mouth; he just felt he had to say it because he didn't want to lose John to some bloke anymore. And when he heard the answer, he pulled John close and gave him a very heated, passionate, desperate kiss. "I love you so much..."

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I never want to go where you can't follow or vice versa. You are never going to be rid of me, Sherlock. Never."

"I would never want to, John," Sherlock whispered. He felt all of his energies drain, and yet he felt more alive than ever; he had fallen to the pit of love, and he could never get out of it. "I intend to keep you."

John growled softly, "Don't think I'd ever let go of you so easy either." He held Sherlock close, a big, huge grin on his face... marry Sherlock Holmes. The detective gently caressed John's face and beamed. "I'm not an idiot, John. These eyes will only adore you. You're enough for me."

Sherlock's smile sent warmth flooding through John. He was touching every inch of Sherlock's face and neck he could, wanting to experience it all, want to be as close as possible. "And you're enough for me," John whispered before giving the detective the most passionate kiss of their lives. Slipping his hands underneath John's jumper as their slow, heated kiss overcame them, Sherlock realized that he needed to feel John again right now. It had been such an onslaught of emotions, from being awfully sad to being ecstatic. "Sorry for... not having a ring... yet," he murmured against their clashing tongues and teeth.

"Don't you dare apologize," John growled, loathe to let go of Sherlock but the jumper had to come off now. "That was the most perfect moment in the world," he whispered, his lips back against the detective's once his jumper was flung across the room. With his nimble hands, Sherlock slipped in his hands down John's pants a bit without even trying too hard. He moaned at the sheer sexiness of it, knowing that he could love his fiancé over and over again without any more hesitations. John gasped and started rocking into the cold fingers. "Sher-Sherlock," he moaned, head dropping to the detective's shoulder as he fumbled with Sherlock's buttons.

"Be mine, John..." Sherlock murmured as he worked his adept fingers at releasing the buttons and zipper of his lover. As soon as John's crotch sprung out, he licked his lips in anticipation.

"You know I'm yours, only yours, always yours." John felt his stomach burn at the thought of what Sherlock was about to do. He bent his head, and since John's length was quite a long one, Sherlock's tongue managed to lap up the small pool of juice from the head. John groaned, hand tangling in Sherlock's curls. "Yes-" he breathed.

"Always so delicious..." Sherlock purred as more, and more precum was taken in by his needy mouth. "John... John... I want to do something..."

"What?" John gasped, Sherlock's voice and words going straight to his balls.

"C-can you make love to me, holding me underneath you John...?" His tone was desperate, although a bit muffled at his motions on John's cock. "I want to look up ohh- and see your beautiful face..."

John forcibly pulled Sherlock off his cock and kissed him very deeply, finally pulling back to look into the detective's eyes. "Yes."

The taller man moaned at the kiss, feeling even more aroused at the intensity of their love for one another. "You're my universe..."

"...And you my sun. I revolve around you," John whispered up, scooping the detective up in his arms and carrying him to their room, refusing to break the kiss until he'd laid Sherlock on the bed. Sherlock was breaking, and he wanted to be broken by John and John alone. He should have met this man ages ago, just so they could have shared the love no one else could ever had, but he banished his regrets; they were to be married soon, and everything would be perfect. The detective watched as John stripped himself before leaning in to gently tug Sherlock's trousers and boxers off, releasing the man. John gave Sherlock his fingers to suck on as John paid loving attention to Sherlock's cock.

Why was John doing this to him? Sherlock even felt that he didn't deserve all this shower of love, but his selfish side was screaming that he was, and that John should never place his attention on someone else. Biting John's fingers once in a while, Sherlock purred helplessly at his manhood's pleasure. Finally retrieving his fingers with a very loud, wet pop, John stroked Sherlock's entrance gently before inserting a finger, kissing the detective once more, whispering "I love you," over and over against the man's lips.

Sherlock was drowning with all this love, and he knew that he could never get used to this. He would never get tired of John, even when they would be too old even for a little bit of romancing underneath their sheets. "Johhnnn... mhmm..."

"Yes, love?" John murmured, slipping in a second finger.

"Ahh!" he screamed, his eyes closing at the wonder of their moment together. John smiled, kissing every inch of Sherlock's face, the detective's eyelids were particularly soft, his nose, his hairline, his eyebrows, those ridiculous cheekbones, everywhere. The last finger slipped in, stroking the squirming detective.

"J-John..." Sherlock moaned yet again. He was afraid that he would come simply from John's fingers alone; he could be moved with a single gaze, and he could be undone by a simple kiss. John quickly withdrew and slicked himself, savoring Sherlock's needy whimper. "Don't come yet darling, let's have some fun first." Lowering his lips to Sherlock's neck, John pushed in, gasping and moaning at the sensation.

"Ughh... John!" That entrance without warning made everything all the more better. It was rough and raw, and, invigorated by their playfulness, Sherlock switched their positions without letting go, still encapsulating John's cock as he straddled his doctor.

"I- I thought you wanted me above you, love," John gasped, Sherlock taking his entire cock.

Smirking down at his lover with a naughty look, Sherlock teasingly licked his lips. "You do... know t-that I'm impatient, don't you, my soldier?" Slowly, he raised his hips up while resting his weight on his shins, only to sink back again suddenly with a loud groan. "Ohhh... So big, John..."

John didn't know if he could last if Sherlock kept on like this. With a growl, he tackled the detective, pinning him to the bed, wrists above his head, not slipping out of Sherlock once. John grinned. "Yes, and I have infinite patience, my dearest love." John moved so slowly he thought Sherlock was going to break his hold from sheer frustration. Grinning wickedly, he kissed his vocal detective, starting to speed up. Sherlock did indeed groan with impatience; John was so unreasonable at times. Not wanting their build up to be broken anymore, the detective succumbed to being held under, simply obeying by raising his hips up to let his prostate be given all of John's cock's attention.

"Good detective," John purred, increasing his speed even more as a reward. Sherlock was so hot and so tight, and John pounded his fiancé (his fiancé!), pouring his infinite love for the brilliant man into every motion.

"John... John... yes, John, m-more... y-yes... please... fuck... oh fuck this..." Sherlock rocked so that he met John's thrust, doubling the pleasure that they were feeling.

John felt the fire curling in his abdomen. No, not yet, he thought, fighting the rush of sensation as he moved faster and harder, wanting to see what other words he could draw from Sherlock's lips.

This was incredible; he wasn't even touching his manhood and yet he felt that he was nearing the edge of their completion together. Rocking heavier, Sherlock closed his eyes to revel the moment. "D-damn this...I w-want to have s-sex with you all the time, make love to you and take in your love and haa... drink your seeds and l-let you fill me up... f-fuck... John... a bit more..."

John crashed his lips against Sherlock's, mimicking his cock's movements with his tongue, knowing it would drive Sherlock absolutely mad. Sherlock tried to catch John's darting tongue, but was only successful for a couple of times. And as soon as John hit that sweet spot, Sherlock screamed John's name as his milky substance sprouted up from the proud symbol of his manhood. John wanted to hear his name on Sherlock's lips this way for the rest of his life. Three more thrusts and he was done, pouring into Sherlock, whimpering the man's name into his beautiful mouth.

They had shared several of the same activities for hundreds of times now, but somehow, this felt different. They were almost tied together for eternity, and it felt all the more wonderful. Sherlock gripped John's waist, as if telling him not to let his cock slip off from his entrance just yet. "I love you, John..."

John stayed where he was, panting hard, fingers stroking Sherlock's grip on his waist. "I love you too, my gorgeous detective."

Chapter Text

"Sherlock!" John was rushing around the flat. "We're going to be late!"

"Five more minutes, John!" Sherlock called out from the bathroom, his nerves getting the better of him. He was going to be married in a couple of minutes! Damn. He just hoped that this would be all right, that he wouldn't make any mistakes later at the ceremony...

"You know Mycroft will stop at nothing to make fun of us if we're late!" John knocked on the door, opening it. "You sure you're ok, Sherlock?"

"Wait John-!" but it was too late. He was already prepared, but he wasn't sure if he looked all right. Glancing at the mirror to look at John's reflection, Sherlock gasped, only to turn around. "You... you gorgeous creature..." he stuttered.

John was speechless, gazing at the contrast between Sherlock's pale skin and the midnight of the tux. He felt himself flush, looking back at the detective. "You're- you're-" Speechless. About to marry the love of his life and he couldn't put two words together.

Reaching John in two long strides, Sherlock dipped his head down to kiss John's lips chastely, but not so much either. "You're perfect..." he whispered.

"So are you," John finally managed, hugging Sherlock. "We really need to go or all these clothes will come flying off, you know."

Chuckling, Sherlock agreed. "Indeed, Doctor Watson. Come now, my lovely fiancé." Making sure that everything was good, he took John's arm as they walked downstairs and were welcomed by a black Jaguar, courtesy of Mycroft. John cuddled with Sherlock the entire ride, thankful that Mycroft had only sent the car and wasn't riding with them. As they neared the church, he felt his stomach clench with excitement and nerves. "Sherlock," he whispered.

"You'll do great, handsome." And yet he was one to tell, for Sherlock was shaking a bit. He reminded himself that this was only to formalize their way of living together, that this was nothing really too great. But he knew that he was wrong, and that this would finally bind them heart and soul.

John followed the detective out, greeting Sarah who was going to give him away. Sherlock had, somehow, agreed to let Mycroft have those honors for him. Lestrade was their best man; even Anderson and Donovan were there off to the side. Before they were separated for the final preparations, John squeezed Sherlock's hand. Giving an encouraging smile at his fiancé before finally departing and moving towards the back with Mycroft and Lestrade, Sherlock took a deep breath. This was it- the moment wherein no one could judge them anymore... and most importantly, he and John would formally be a family.

After much debate, it had been decided that both men would walk down the aisle- first John, then Sherlock ("Age order, very logical" Sherlock had reasoned), but now it was finally happening. The organ began playing, and Sarah was walking John toward the altar. Sherlock was shaking a bit, not even absorbing Mycroft's words of encouragement. He was grateful deep inside but really was just too nervous for them to make any difference. That and the fact that Mycroft kept on giving flirtatious smiles to Lestrade made some things worse.

John reached the front, Sarah giving him a kiss on the cheek, and he turned, his nerves evaporating as soon as he saw his gorgeous lover, boyfriend, detective, love, soul mate, fiancée, soon-to-be-husband. John was positively beaming at Sherlock.

Once John had settled, Mycroft urged him to move. Sherlock felt like his feet were cemented to the floor and just got frustrated. Fed up with the Mycroft and Lestrade's eye sex, he sighed and whispered, "Do it later at the reception, and get a room," at his brother, finally turning his attention to John, positively glowing when he saw the smile directed at him by his one- and- only, his feet moving. Finally.

John took Sherlock's hand when the detective reached the altar, squeezing gently again. "Love you," he whispered very softly, only for Sherlock's ears.

"And I, you," he whispered back before sneaking in a kiss on the back of John's hand. Together, they faced the priest, and for the first time in Sherlock's life, he genuinely smiled at a person other than John.

The ceremony itself seemed to fly by, certain details sticking out: the long moment where John held his breath after the room was asked to speak out if they saw a reason he and Sherlock shouldn't be together, saying his vows while gazing in Sherlock's eyes, Sherlock's response, exchanging rings, simple gold bands with a single word on them, the same word: Amazing, John's first ever true compliment to the detective, and of course kissing the bride. Neither of them had been able to decide which one of them was which, so they had settled for "you may kiss the groom."

Sherlock's heart was beating oh-so-rapidly as the ceremony proceeded. He didn't even notice the time fly by; all he knew that he was with John in this, and that they would never leave each other's grasps anymore. Forever was already given to them, and they simply had to cherish each of their days so that they would be unforgettable in their own ways; Sherlock never wanted to forget any of it, and when it was time to kiss each other, Sherlock had a naughty smirk on his lips as he suddenly grabbed John's waist and bent him, dipping in to kiss his husband. John's eyes widened in surprise as Sherlock grabbed him, but closed them again as the detective kissed him, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's neck for support. And that was it; they were married, together forever.

When he realized that being torrid and expressive wouldn't be too nice seen by the audience, with the possibility that Mycroft might even just grab Lestrade and do the same, he pulled back while still supporting John's weight. "Now everyone knows you're mine," he chuckled.

John blushed, placing his hand at the base of Sherlock's spine, copping a quick feel before walking him back down the aisle. "Don't forget you're mine as well," he purred in Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his husband's playfulness. Things could be arranged later on...


The reception was lovely. John and Sherlock had the seats of honor of course; both of them drank, and John got to spoon feed Sherlock and not have the detective be frustrated with him. But all the while, John couldn't wait to dance, to pull Sherlock's tux-encased body onto the floor and move with him freely, exuberantly. Knowing exactly what his doctor was thinking, Sherlock took the liberty of standing and bowing in front of John. "Might I have this dance?" he asked as he held out his hand for invitation.

Sherlock's voice went straight to John's groin, and it was a wonder he didn't just drag his husband off to an empty room. "Yes," he replied, standing. "Mind if I pick the song?"

"Of course not," he chuckled. He waited as John went to the string quartet and asked for a song, and Sherlock was glad that everyone was enjoying themselves, his brother mostly.

John had to choose: slow or fast? After a quick discussion, he settled for one of his favorites, a lively Irish reel he'd loved growing up. John turned to look at Sherlock, smirking as he moved back toward his detective, his love, hips swaying, feet tapping, before sweeping Sherlock into an embrace, placing the detective's hands (one on his shoulder, holding the other) and they were off.

He should have known that John would choose this, and Sherlock simply rolled his eyes playfully. All right then. He danced with the rhythm, showing everyone that yes, Sherlock Holmes-Watson could dance; he simply didn't want to shout it out to the whole world. John was amazed as Sherlock began to take the lead, the doctor throwing back his head and laughing as they spun. He heard Sherlock chuckle in his rich baritone as he pulled John close. The doctor looked up at his love, his heart swelling in his chest.

Causing John to laugh like this made Sherlock's heart swell as well. He wanted more; he wanted to show the world that he could take care of John, and that he was a fit husband for him, that John would not regret marrying Sherlock just because he had a pretty face. Sherlock continued his antics, even giving John another spin, laughing freely for the first time in a very long time. John twirled, giggling and laughing, knowing he'd made the best choice of his life by doing this. His gorgeous husband was there, playing with him, making him happier than he'd ever been before. As the song ended, he collapsed into Sherlock's arms, hugging him close as the song changed, an instrumental arrangement of a Beatles song.

"You're a... great dancer," Sherlock chuckled as he tried to catch his breath. If John so wished it, they could do it again in the fine comfort of their home, but these people would never witness it again due to the possibility of him being teased. "Let's do this again, mhm?" And when the slightly slow melody filled his ears, Sherlock rested his head on John's own and just smiled. "I love you."

John leaned his head against Sherlock's chest, humming the tune softly and wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist, swaying side to side to the music, finally recognizing the song. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he sang softly.

Since he was ignorant on the world of music and other trivial things, Sherlock simply smiled at his partner when he sang; this wasn't the first time that he heard him do that, but it didn't mean that it was not appreciated. "My heart beats the same, my beautiful doctor," he cooed.

John tilted his head up and brought Sherlock in for a kiss, losing himself in the man. It was perfect, deep and sensual but not animalistic: just right for a public snog. Pulling away after licking the shape of John's lips, Sherlock was clearly flushed with sheer joy and other amazing emotions. "I think we'll attend another wedding soon," he muttered as he nodded his head towards John's back where Mycroft and Lestrade were also dancing.

John craned his neck to look, blinking as he saw Mycroft and Greg, realization dawning on him. "How long," he asked, wondering how he'd never seen it before.

"Just now, officially," Sherlock chuckled, glad that he had something to blackmail his brother with. "But they have been flirting with each other for weeks now. Awfully tiring to watch."

"As I'm sure we were." John leaned his head back against Sherlock's chest, listening to his strong, powerful heartbeat. "You want to get out of here for a bit or wait for the honeymoon?" he whispered.

"My doctor's a bit excited, don't you think?" But without saying another word, Sherlock grabbed John's hand and led them towards the restroom; surely they could have a good time in there. John's heart started pounding. "And my detective likes it rough." He wanted Sherlock so bad now he was amazed he had made it this long. A quick one in the bathroom would do them both good, and it was Sherlock's turn to top. John grinned wickedly as Sherlock shoved him into the bathroom, locking the door.

Sherlock did not bother with any much foreplay before pulling down John's trousers and placing them over their heads neatly folded. He certainly did not want others to know what they exactly did while they were away. Looking at John's half-hard cock excitedly, Sherlock quickly worked his fingers and stroked it adeptly. John groaned, grabbing Sherlock and kissing him hard, all pretenses over. He struggled to stay quiet, releasing most of his noise into Sherlock's mouth. "Faster, harder, more, god damn it!"

"Patience, my love," Sherlock whispered back, his tongue caressing John's to make him relax. Letting go of John, the detective undressed himself, suddenly no longer caring if creases appeared in his trousers; he simply needed John NOW. He raised one of John's legs and hooked it around his hips while continuing the kiss. John let Sherlock push him up so he was seated on the low counter, wrapping his other leg around Sherlock's hip. "And if I don't want to be patient?"

Sherlock maneuvered his length towards John's inviting hole. "Then we could solve that." No longer preparing his husband, Sherlock thrust in. It was a bit rough, what with the lack of lubricant, so he entered slowly. John gasped, Sherlock's thrust a knife of desire in him. Moaning rather loudly, he brought his love's lips back, kissing hard, hips bucking. Glad that the rough entry did not cause more inconveniences than he thought, Sherlock pulled away again, letting a dribble of his precum smoothen his entry again. "Ohh- John..."

John's arms went around Sherlock's shoulders, pulling his husband even closer. Between his arms and his legs, he had a good amount of control. "Sherlock-" he breathed. "My Sherlock, my love-"

Sherlock wanted to get a bit playful and hint to his brother that they indeed had a go at the restroom. So, he suckled a part of John's neck that was hidden from sight, but not so much that Mycroft wouldn't be able to see. He thrust again and again, and groans were now mingled and echoed within the room.

"Yes, God, Fuck, Sherlock!" John's body burned, his nerves on fire as white-hot pleasure shook him with each thrust. Forget being quiet, there was no way he could manage it. John felt his own erection bobbing up and down and, reaching for some paper towels, put them on his lap before stroking himself, groaning and leaning into Sherlock. Sherlock helped with each stroke, one hand going to John's crotch while the other supported his weight as he thrust in and out, harder with every second, into his husband. He was near his climax, and letting his tongue out, he invited John's to dance with his own outside of their mouths. John kissed Sherlock, plunging his tongue into the detective's hot, wet mouth, fingers lacing as they both stroked his arousal, the kissing almost sending him over the edge. He was so close.

If anyone were to listen, they would have thought that several couples were actually making love inside. Two more thrusts, and Sherlock finally spilled himself into John, filling him up entirely. John managed to grab the paper towel just in time as he came, catching everything he could, trying to avoid leaving stains on their tuxes, whimpering and whispering Sherlock's name over and over. The detective buried his face at the junction of John's neck and shoulders, and, catching his breath, he smiled. "You were f-fantastic, as always, dear husband."

John smiled, kissing the side of Sherlock's head, chest heaving. "As were you, husband." The word felt so right on his lips. Kissing Sherlock once more, John began to clean them up, getting them ready to return.

"I'll take care of you next time," Sherlock promised as he let John do the work for now. At their honeymoon, he would ensure that it would be John who was pampered. Lots. "I have been filling you up again and again... it feels great..."

"I don't want it from anyone but you." Finishing, John got down, wincing as his sore muscles flexed, and he put his pants and trousers back on. Looking up at his love, he started laughing. "Sherlock, your hair-"

Sherlock was about to get his trousers from the floor when he caught his reflection from the opposite mirror. "Fuck," he whispered, fingers immediately trying to comb through his impossible locks. "Now everyone will definitely know."

"Let them." John helped Sherlock on with his trousers, smoothing back the unruly curls. "You're mine you know, Detective Sherlock Holmes-Watson."

"I do know that, Doctor John Watson-Holmes." He gave the man a smile of his thanks for the work they were doing to hide their recent activity. "All yours."

"Let's go." Kissing Sherlock one last time, John led him back to the reception.

Mycroft clearly knew what they had been up to, Sarah as well, and even Lestrade by the look of it. Blushing, John led his husband back to the table, pulling out the chair for him and poured them both a liberal amount of Champagne.

"To us."

With a flush still evident on his cheeks, Sherlock raised his own glass and clinked it with his husband's. "To us, to an everlasting life filled with your presence." He pressed a quick kiss to John's cheek before drinking. John smiled at Sherlock, sipping his flute of the sweet, bubbly drink, and he felt tears of pure joy prick his eyes. He reached out to hold Sherlock's hand, just needing to touch him for reassurance that this was real and happening.

"Hey..." Sherlock cooed as he immediately placed his glass down to splay his hand against John's cheek and try to wipe away the tears. "John... John, it's all fine... Please cheer up..."

"I'm not sad." John reached up to hold Sherlock's hand, the tears falling gently and freely. "You make me so happy, Sherlock, and I love you, but some part of me feels like it's too good to be true, like how I could possibly be lucky enough to deserve you?"

"I'm the lucky one, John," Sherlock admitted as he tried to shoo that stinging feeling in his own eyes. Stupid tears. And no, he wasn't crying. "All the girls want you... and yet you still chose me to stay with you for the rest of our lives. I'll do e-everything for you, you understand? So just tell me everything you need."

"You." John marveled at the detective's insecurity, especially after everything they'd been through together. "I may have gone out with them before, Sherlock, but I'm married to you. The girls will just have to find someone else to fawn over. All I'll ever need ever again is you."

Now Sherlock couldn't deny his tears anymore; they were soon flowing freely down his cheeks. Mycroft would surely tease him about it-stupid git. "I don't ever want to disappoint you... And since you're part of the Holmes family now, don't ever hesitate to approach Mycroft and demand him of anything you need." A sloppy kiss on John's lips and Sherlock leaned on the man's shoulder.

"You can't disappoint me, Sherlock." John scooted his chair closer so he could hold the man easier. "Anything of Mycroft?" he asked, suddenly grinning. "Watch this," he whispered. "Hey, Mycroft," John called, "Just kiss the man already!"

Cheering up from this slightly sentimental mood, Sherlock smirked and looked expectantly at his brother. With a roll of the eyes, Mycroft did actually follow John's insistence, pulling Lestrade by the collar and giving him a sweet smooch. Satisfied, Sherlock turned to John. "Hey... has it ever crossed your mind to have... er, another one be a part of our family? I... I mean... a dog or a cat would do..."

"Sherlock, are-are you saying you want to have kids?"

Sherlock widened his eyes as he raised his hands. "I... I... Not if you don't want to! It's a bit quick, I know... but honestly, John... a pet would suffice for now. I don't want to pressure you, and I would never really pursue it anymore if you disagree!" He placed an apologetic kiss on John's cheek and simply looked at his champagne.

John chuckled softly, reaching out to tilt Sherlock's face so he could look the detective in the eye. "I never thought you'd want a family. I just have to get used to it is all. What would you do for work? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love to have children with you, it's just- our lifestyle isn't conducive to it. Now, don't think I'm shooting it down, but perhaps that is something we should take slowly, make sure you and I are really ready." His thumb stroked Sherlock's cheek as he spoke, trying to say all of his love for Sherlock's request with his eyes.

John was too perfect, too wonderful for him. Sherlock wasn't able to express everything yet, so he simply leaned down and captured the blonde's lips with full tenderness and passion, letting him know that he was grateful for everything. After a while when their breaths needed catching, Sherlock kissed his nose and rested his chin on his doctor's shoulder. "Mycroft can do something about me having an official job..." he muttered. "I'll make sure that they w-won't have my anti-social traits...because I know that you're here to make them perfect..."

John savored the kiss; he and Sherlock were going to need a very long, proper snog sometime soon. "You with an official job? Now there's something I never thought I'd see. And Sherlock-they'd be the best part of us, you know. Your mind and my emotions, your looks and our bravery."

"Correction, Doctor," Sherlock said sternly with a smile on his lips. "Your looks are included too. I'm not blind to forgo the fact that you have a sexy body and a gorgeous face." He nuzzled into John's shoulder and simply sighed, content. John blushed crimson; he'd never really thought himself that handsome and certainly thought Sherlock was the gorgeous one of the two of them. "Maybe in a few months, once we've really settled... we could try."

A quick nip on John's earlobe and Sherlock pulled away. "That's a perfect plan, John. Perhaps we should..." The detective suddenly broke off as he felt something not right. And then, there, at the corner of his eye, he saw what it was. "James," he hissed.

John jumped, spinning and blocking Sherlock with his body, "Fuck," he hissed. "We need to get you out, Sherlock. Now!" John would not have his happiness taken away so soon after securing it.

"Shh, shh, John," Sherlock instructed in a controlled manner. "John, relax, all right?" Hand gripping his husband's tightly, Sherlock peered over his shoulder.

"Why hello there, sexy boys and girls!" Moriarty giggled. "I just bought my present for the lovebirds. I won't kill any of you, I promise!"

John refused to relax, taking Sherlock's hand and gripping it as tightly as he could. That way, if anything happened, they'd still be together to the end. Kissing John's cheek to encourage the man to stay calm, Sherlock gave a mocking smile to their guest. "Why hello there, Jim. Fancy seeing you here... And a gift? Why, that's just sweet of you..."

John stared warily at the consulting criminal, finding his voice at last. "Thank you, Jim." The word felt wrong on his tongue, Moriarty's first name.

Mycroft was whispering instructions to his wrist, and Sherlock almost sighed in exasperation. By the time his men arrived, Moriarty would have probably already escaped. He didn't put it past the criminal to have knocked them out to barricaded the doors. "Of course, Sherlock, darling. Johnny boy got quite the catch, didn't he? I'm ever so jealous." He walked towards the detective, rounding the table and smiling down at him, just inches from Sherlock. "I want to kiss you, darling dearest."

No ! John's mind screamed, clamping down even tighter on Sherlock's hand. He managed to keep his breathing under control, his body feeling like he was back in Afghanistan.

"And if I refuse?" Sherlock drawled, sneering up at his nemesis while he squeezed John's hand. "I really never wanted to try out your... delectable lips, James. You could have anyone else anyway..."

"Yes, but where's the fun in that? The unavailable man, just so much more appealing don't you think?" John watched Moriarty's smirk, almost grabbing the knife from the table as the criminal reached out a finger to stroke Sherlock's cheek. Only I'm allowed to do that, John thought, furious. Then Sherlock's reply sunk in.

Moriarty pulled out his gun and pointed it directly at John's head. "Kiss me, sweetheart, just like you kiss Johnny boy here, or he dies," he said in a sing song manner. People gasped, and Mycroft looked seriously frightened. John felt the blood drain from his face, eyes stinging. "Do it Sherlock," he whispered after a moment, hating the words. "Please..."

Sherlock looked at John helplessly, asking for his complete forgiveness for what he was about to do. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock leaned up and pressed his lips on James' own, refusing to move just yet. Jim cocked the gun, pressing it to John's temple; John flinched but otherwise held still, pure hatred welling up in his chest. "Like you mean it, Sherlock dear," Jim said in his simpering sing-song voice.

Letting go of John's hand, Sherlock pulled James closer to him. His right hand was placed on the enemy's waist, and his left on the smaller man's neck. He opened his mouth and let out his tongue to ask for entrance to pursue an awfully hot and sensual kiss. Jim smirked at John, watching the doctor the entire time he snogged Sherlock, never once dropping the arm with the gun. John met Moriarty's gaze unflinchingly, his hatred for the man pouring out of his eyes as if he could stab the criminal with his thoughts. He kept the hand that had been holding Sherlock's clenched in a tight first, resisting the urge to touch Sherlock, to move at all.

Moriarty is a good kisser , Sherlock surveyed, but he's not the same as John. He was simply observing in a scientific manner as he had never kissed anyone but John; he couldn't help but analyze. There was no passion, no feeling felt with each kiss and suckle. One last suckle, and Sherlock pulled away due to lack of breath-he knew James would realize that. Jim growled, teeth latching onto Sherlock's lips. "Not finished yet, detective." He shoved the gun harder against John's head.

"Bfayn-" Sherlock muttered with pure hatred. He doubled his efforts, kissing the man like he kissed John only in their roughest and most sensual love making sessions. It appeared as though he enjoyed taking in all of Moriarty's being, but deep inside, he wanted to kill this evil creature. Jim kissed Sherlock for a few moments like this before finally releasing him.

"Knew you had it in you," he winked before shooting John in the shoulder, exactly in the center of his pre-existing scar.

Wiping his lips onto his tuxedo, Sherlock realized it too late that the shot directly hit his husband. "Mycroft!" he shouted before catching John in his arms and getting his handkerchief to stop the blood from flowing. "John... John... please, stay with me..."

John was vaguely aware of a thump as Moriarty was tackled and driven to the floor, the gun kicked away. The pain in his shoulder was intense, worse than the original wound. Then hands were pressing against him and Sherlock's voice could be heard. "Sher-Sherlock," John gasped as Sherlock applied pressure to the bleeding wound. "Don't- don't leave me- alone." It was harder to breathe, and John was terrified that Sherlock would lose him forever, that he would never see those phenomenal blue eyes again.

Sherlock pressed as hard as could on the wound just so no more blood would be spilled. He did not care if his body was soaked with blood; all he wanted was revenge for what that fiend had done to his wedding day. He kissed John's forehead, fearing the man would be repulsed at any taste left on Sherlock's mouth from the psychopath, and he nodded. "I will never leave you, John, I promise... J-just stay alive... for me, please..."

"Trying... tired." Words felt heavy in John's mouth now, his tongue thick and dry. He could hear sirens. "Love... you..."

"SHUT UP!" Sherlock suddenly roared, not wanting John to think these will be his last moments. "Stay alive! Don't you leave me alone, you idiot! P-please... please, John..."

John started, wincing and gasping in pain as the motion made him move. Pain, wait. "Sherlock... yell at me... move me... pinch me, please... pain keeps... awake"

Sherlock shook John without trying to damage the wounded arm. "I love you, John," he whispered over and over again. "We will have kids, remember? Don't you break that promise..."

Pain sent warnings to his brain. "Yes... kids... love you too... genius." John was aware of being helped onto a stretcher, but everything after that was a wash of noise and color.

Sherlock argued with the nurses and the doctor that he stay with John. Reluctantly, and also with the command of one Mycroft Holmes, they agreed. He held on tightly onto John's hands, keeping his company until they finally were separated in the Operating Room. "I love you, John... Hold on..."

Chapter Text

Everything was swirling color and darkness and noise and silence. John felt suspended in the dark, until finally, he was very faintly aware of a gentle pressure, pulsing, not steady. Going towards it, John found himself growing very heavy and sore.

He opened his eyes, the dim light in the room almost blinding.

Sherlock hadn't slept, hadn't even taken a nap like everyone insisted since they'd arrived at the hospital. It had been several hours, but the detective didn't even care. Besides, how could he even bloody sleep when his beloved's life was on the line?  When John was finally released from the Operating Room with his shoulder still a bit damaged due to the nerves hit, Sherlock was relieved. He held onto John's hand the whole time he was asleep, and when he finally woke up, the detective gasped. "John!"

"Sh-Sher-lock," John managed, his mouth dry. Ah, Sherlock's holding my hand, he thought. His memories were a bit fuzzy, but as his eyes came into focus, he almost had a heart attack. "You're c-covered-in blood!"

Not knowing it, Sherlock's tears were flowing freely down his cheeks-the second time this eventful day. "John... Oh John... I-I'm so g-glad you're a-alive," he stuttered as he kissed his husband's hand over and over and over again. "I'll get rid of this suit later..."

"Sherlock, why are you covered in blood?"

Pausing, Sherlock gave a small, ironic smile. "You were shot, John," he whispered. "But you're fine now..."

The memories came rushing back, crashing through the haze in John's mind. "Bastard!" he shouted, struggling to move, wincing and moaning in pain as he did. "I'll kill him, I swear Sherlock, I'll murder that fucking bastard for what he did to you!"

Terrified at his husband's outburst, Sherlock held John's hand tightly. "John... John, it's fine. Mycroft has him somewhere... It's fine... I'm just glad that you're safe. You're all that matters to me..." Tucking away some hair that blocked John's view, Sherlock smiled. "It's all fine."

Sherlock's words calmed him, and John was relieved that Mycroft had the bastard under control. He felt his lips twitch at Sherlock's words, those three simple words. "Yes, I know it's fine," he replied. Smiling, Sherlock pressed a kiss on John's cheek. "Now, soldier, hurry up and recover, all right? I do want my husband well and good when we go to our honeymoon. I won't let him get out of bed..." he grinned. "Or well, we could experiment with how well the beach copes with our... emotions..."

Now John was grinning. Sherlock was clearly flirting with him despite his condition, but the doctor was still concerned. "Are you ok? I mean, Jim made you snog him with me at gunpoint and then shot me. I begged you to do it. I was terrified of losing you or your losing me. Christ, Sherlock, You look like you haven't slept!"

"Yes, yes, fine," Sherlock grumbled, although he was forcing himself not to smile too much. "I'll sleep on the sofa in the hall, so you can always check on me." He placed his chin to rest on the bed and nodded. "You're my husband now, everything is still perfect."

"Kiss me," John whispered. "Before I fall asleep."

"Even if kissed  Moriarty?" he asked, worried.

"I'll live. I just need to make sure it's you. You don't even need to deepen it."

Leaning down and giving a soft, sweet kiss on John's lips, Sherlock smiled. He did not involve any tongue, just pure mingling of the lips. "I love you."

"I love you too." John fell back asleep, smiling.


It was three weeks before the doctors let him leave, and John was losing his mind. He ranted to Sherlock the day before his discharge that if they didn't get out of there and to their honeymoon soon, he was going to take Sherlock in every single doctor's office in the hospital. As soon as John was allowed out of the hospital, Mycroft surprised the couple by sending a car and dropping them at the airport to use his private plane to spirit them to  their honeymoon destination. "Git. Always bothering with things," Sherlock complained, but deep inside, he was grateful.

"Relax, he's taking care of us," John smiled, relieved to finally be on his feet. He held onto Sherlock's arm as they boarded the plane, still slightly unsteady on stairs, the doctor's left shoulder still bandaged and wrapped tightly.

Sherlock, even though he did not seem overjoyed at the prospect of using his brother's plane, still aided John every single step of the way. As they sat, John sighing to be off his feet again, Sherlock's mobile buzzed: a text. Sherlock read it and grinned. "I have just been informed that the eastern part of the resort is solely for us. Better get ready for me, handsome."

John grinned, stomach flipping over. "Who says you are going to have all the fun?"

"You'll have sand on your bum," Sherlock teased as he looked out the window. John pulled Sherlock close, resting his head on his husband's shoulder. "Your hair will be blonde when I'm done with you," he whispered in the man's ear.

Flirtations without the slightest hint of being affected by them really are wonderful. Sherlock smirked and hummed appreciatively. "Then we'll match, at the very least. I've always wondered how I look like with a different hair color..."

John twisted his head and kissed Sherlock; they hadn't gotten to do this nearly enough in the past few weeks. "Kiss me, love. We don't have to do anything until we reach the resort, so let's just snog."

"As you wish." Not a second passed before Sherlock was kissing John with his whole heart, pouring into him all his desires and love and promises. No one else can match this, no matter how much they try.

John sighed into it, scooting closer before finally giving up and climbing onto Sherlock, gently pressing their hips together as his tongue stroked his love's. Sherlock moved his hands to securely wrap around John's waist to keep him from falling off. Their sensual dance was a slow and sweet one; they had all the time in the world. John really explored Sherlock's mouth for the first time in a long time. He cupped his husband's face with his right hand, using his leverage to try different angles, different pressures. The detective twined his hands on John's back, leaning back to let John take the dominant role this time. He responded with every exploration, tongue flicking out here and there to match his husband's movement. But, coming up with an idea, he smirked, and suddenly took John's tongue on his own mouth and suckled it, trapping it easily. John gasped, surprised. This was a new one. His eyes rolled back in pleasure as he leaned in closer to his love, giving the other man the power.

Needing to breathe, Sherlock finally let go, but kept his head bumped against John's. "You're always tasty. So addicting..."

"So are you," John panted, rubbing slow circles on Sherlock's cheek. "I never want to stop."

"Neither do I, my doctor," Sherlock chuckled. In compensation while catching up with their breaths, he merely gave his husband Eskimo kisses, his nose rubbing the other's in a very affectionate way. There was something so incredibly intimate about that caress that John stopped breathing altogether. He rubbed back, hands stroking every inch of the detective's head they could find.

"I love you, John," Sherlock whispered as his hands sought the side of John's face, nibbling the smaller man's lower lip. John whimpered, struggling to stay still and let Sherlock do what he wanted. He stroked Sherlock's hair off his face, running his fingers down the back of the man's head to rest at the nape of his neck. Sherlock pulled away again, only to peck a kiss on John's nose. "We should prank Mycroft sometime," he mused. "To get back for his meddling issues."

"Oooh, yes," John agreed, snuggling into his lover. "What do you propose?"

Sherlock peppered kisses on John's forehead and grinned mischievously. "We could trap them in a room filled with... toys. Let's see how the Iceman and the Detective Inspector will react to that."

John snorted, the very image of Mycroft and Lestrade surrounded by sex toys incredibly amusing. "You do know they'd probably wind using some of them."

"But I'd get away as soon as the... action commenced." Sherlock rolled his eyes in disgust at the thought of his brother actually making love with someone he knew. At that moment, a beautiful stewardess came in and smiled. "Any requests, sirs?" she asked timidly, aware of the very intimate position her customers were in.

"Champagne and strawberries." John didn't miss a beat, snuggling closer to Sherlock. The detective was actually worried that somehow, the elegance of the woman might have caused some interest in John to boil up, but it did not seem to be a problem. Wonderful. "And some whipped cream, please. Thank you."

John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock as the stewardess walked away. "You're giving me ideas, darling," he grinned.

"Am I?" he teased, trying his best to act as if nothing really happened. The stewardess returned with the requested items. John poured them each a flute of champagne and toasted. "To us."

"To us," the detective echoed, sipping some of the champagne and grinning. He then took the small container of whipped cream and placed some of its contents on John's lips. John beamed at Sherlock, taking some himself and tracing patterns on his love's neck and jaw. Satisfied, Sherlock set it aside, and started to devour his husband's mouth with an animal-like strength: desperate and needy. John gasped into the kiss, mouth on fire as Sherlock took what he wanted, what he needed. John was careful not to smudge his own lines as his hands scrabbled for purchase on Sherlock, saving them for later. Whipped cream really has its uses. As their tongues danced, Sherlock knew he had a new addiction. "Sexy, John..."

John growled playfully, pulling away to give Sherlock's neck the same treatment, satisfied as the lanky man squirmed under his tongue

"If... if this is how you'll take me..." Sherlock gasped, "Then I'd be willing not to get off the bed anymore..."

"Ooooh, is that a promise, dear?" John was having too much fun. At this rate, they wouldn't even make it off the plane. Fuck decency. Sherlock fumbled with John's trousers and smirked. "Oh yes, Doctor."

John pulled Sherlock to the floor (careful not to land on his shoulder), grabbing the whipped cream as they fell and handing it to Sherlock with a wink.

"Mycroft won't be pleased," he growled maniacally as he pulled John's trousers down. "Seeds on his carpet."

"He'll- fucking- live. Take it as our first way of getting back at him."

"Wonderful husband mine." Scooping a handful of whipped cream, Sherlock immediately placed it on John's cock and around his entrance. "Now that's inviting."

John gasped at the cool cream. "Ohhhhhhh, fuck yes," he moaned, making a mental note to do the same to Sherlock at the first possible opportunity.

Instead of taking in John's length, Sherlock moved downward and licked the whipped cream off his entrance. He prodded his tongue inside once in a while, surprised at the new flavor, but was intrigued nonetheless... and John could not have held still if his life depended on it. Sherlock's tongue inside him was deliciously dirty and exciting, prepping him in an entirely new way.

"The stewardess is getting turned on," his husband mumbled as he poked his tongue again and again, hands unzipping his own trousers.

"Yeah, well, bet she won't regret coming to work today." John needed Sherlock NOW, and the detective was just taking his time, teasing John endlessly.

"And if she actually stops you in the bathroom to have her way with you?" he teased.

"I'll break the door down. No one but you Sherlock. Never anyone but you. Now, I wouldn't mind if you did that to me-"

Pleased with the answer, Sherlock suddenly engulfed John's length and suckled as if there were no tomorrow. "Mine..." he growled.

John's back arched before slamming into the floor. "GOD!" he groaned, the added friction and texture of the whipped cream threatening to make him come right then.

"Yes, yes... let go, John..." he encouraged, knowing that he had other games to play. He licked the shaft and bobbed his head, even letting the length pass his throat. "Go for it..."

John cried out, shooting his entire load down Sherlock's throat, crying out his husband's name all the while. Three weeks without sex really inhibited his ability to last. Seed and whipped cream really did go well with each other. The detective drank in everything, not wanting to leave a single drop, and licked his lips afterwards. "Now that... was a meal."

John lay there for a moment, catching his breath. He reached for his champagne and took a long sip before grabbing a strawberry and gently tackling Sherlock. He pressed the juicy berry against Sherlock's perfect mouth. Sherlock looked up at his husband in complete submission; he would let the man do everything to him, so he simply hooked both his legs on John's waist.

"Eat, my love," John whispered, stroking Sherlock's flushed lips, leaving a slight berry juice trail. Sherlock did as instructed, taking a small bite.

John watched, fascinated as Sherlock chewed, clearly savoring the sweet fruit, little dribbles of juice dripping from the corners of his mouth. John took a bite as well before getting the cream. Sherlock had managed to get his trousers off, so John worked the shirt open, drawing a smiley face on Sherlock's chest with the whipped cream. This was fantastically dirty, his sex life with the only man and person he'd do this with was too intriguing. Sherlock continued to chew on the strawberry as his eyes took in all of John's hand movements. Satisfied, John trace a single line of cream down the center of Sherlock's lips before licking and sucking his own finger, locking eyes with Sherlock the entire time.

Sherlock controlled himself to not to actually lick his lips. "Yes, John...?" he drawled, opening his mouth a bit and showing off his tongue. John lowered himself gently, careful not to smudge his art and licked the cream off Sherlock's lips before dipping his tongue in his husband's mouth, tasting himself, cream, strawberries, and the hint of Champagne on Sherlock's tongue. This was the most exquisite taste he had ever sampled in his entire life, and never once did Sherlock regret doing this with John. "My chef..."

John grinned, chuckling. "I suppose you are my meal." He licks the remnants of his earlier work off of Sherlock's neck before starting on Sherlock's chest. His tongue followed the outline of the smiley face before starting on each eye, cleverly placed on Sherlock's nipples.

"John!" Sherlock moaned out, back arching off the floor as he longed for more contact. "J-John... you bloody tease..."

Keeping the rest of his body out of the way, John continued to work, admiring everything about Sherlock, shedding his own shirt slowly as he worked. Dipping his fingers in his champagne, he stroked Sherlock and pushed in a finger. Gasping at the cool sensation of being breached, Sherlock tried to open his eyes all the while. "Girl's... watching us..." he whispered.

"Eyes on me. Think about me." John worked fast, growing hard and leaking even more than before, amazed at how Sherlock was always able to do this to him, so desperate to fuck Sherlock that he didn't know if he could make it. Dumping the last drops of champagne on himself, he lined up and pushed in. He rarely topped and had forgotten how tight Sherlock was.

Not that Sherlock was distracted by the woman actually rubbing herself, but it was just to annoying. Shooing all thoughts, Sherlock gasped as he felt the breach. "J-John! Oh John! Yes! Fuck..."

John kissed Sherlock, knowing he wouldn't last long, moving fast and hard, supporting himself with his right arm. It was odd to have be so near the edge after such a short time; maybe champagne and strawberries were the key, Sherlock thought. John pounded harder, stroking his love in time to each motion. "Come for me darling."

After just three strokes, Sherlock came undone and released himself on John's fingers. "Huuhmmm... J-John... fucking great..."

John came a second time in Sherlock, finally collapsing on his love. "I've- missed- this" he panted.

"W-what? Lovemaking in the m-most... weird of places?" his husband chuckled, panting heavily.

"I've been in the hospital for three weeks. We haven't been alone together since-" John stopped, watching Sherlock's face, knowing he was on shaky ground.

Not wanting to think any more depressing thoughts, Sherlock pulled John down into a kiss. "Shut up."

Too happy to comply, John kissed back as he heard a knock.

"Landing in five minutes."

"Better get ready, John," Sherlock teased naughtily, handing his husband a towel. "More rowdy acts later."

"Better be."

Chapter Text

The evening walks were John's favorite. They could hold hands and talk and watch the waves come in and not have to worry about anyone or anything for a few hours. For him, it was paradise, and since they were alone, the cool ocean breeze could only be savored by the two of them; he didn't have to share it with anyone but Sherlock.

"Mycroft chose a good place, at least," Sherlock chuckled, sneaking a kiss on John's cheek.

"Yeah, suppose he did." John had to admit the place was perfect. Time was slipping by so fast here, lazy days filled with sex and food and exploring. He and Sherlock had done it just about everywhere, as loudly and as messily as possible in some cases. Remembering an escapade from earlier that day, John whispered "Chocolate," into Sherlock's ear.

At that word, Sherlock stopped in his steps, and sudden heat filled his stomach. Stupid, enchanting word. He immediately unbuttoned John's shirt as his lips sought the other's neck, suckling sloppily. It had only been hours, and yet Sherlock wanted to have John encapsulating him again. "I need you now..." he whispered, desperate hands flinging John's shirt towards the sand. "Please..."

John chuckled. "So easy." He all but ripped Sherlock's shirt off, throwing it down. He at least knew they'd need some protection from the sand. Sherlock, with his excitement, quickly pulled down John's trousers, and pulled him down to the sand and waters. "All our adventures are fascinating, don't you think?"

"Yes I do, Sherlock." John felt the water brush his toes, and he shivered. "I love you."

"I love you too, my husband," the taller man purred before leaning in and kissing John as rough as he could, hips bucking and rubbing to create friction on their groins. John grabbed Sherlock's chin roughly, holding him close so he couldn't break away, bucking up and grinding against the man above him.

Groaning in delight, Sherlock rubbed more frantically as the waves came and went, crashing over them. Not waiting any longer, he entered that hole, knowing that it was already softened up by the salty sea. John never tired of Sherlock's dominance, knowing it helped give him control when he needed it; he loved how this man made him feel. John had had plenty of chances to dominate Sherlock in the days previous, and this was simply lovely.

The sounds of the waves running through their ears were such perfect music as Sherlock pounded himself again and again into John. But this time, he made it slow because he knew this was to tie the knot of their perfect future. John felt something different about this; so much of their escapades thus far had been fast and rough, pure pleasure and carnal release, but this time, looking into Sherlock's eyes, he saw something different, something softer. John twined their left hands together, using them to stabilize Sherlock's position, while at the same time clasping their wedding ring hands as they came together, crying and shuddering, finally collapsing on the sand.

Seeing John half naked and sweaty made things beautiful. "I love you..." Sherlock whispered, closing his eyes and nuzzling John's hand. "My future is now secured with you."

"Together forever, a consulting detective and his blogger." John smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Sherlock's cheek.

"Not just that..." his husband insisted. "You're my doctor, my soldier and my everything. And I won't let you escape my clutches."

John felt his eyes prick with tears at Sherlock's sentiment. "I'm your everything..." he whispered, perhaps only truly realizing exactly what that meant for the first time. Smiling as he saw the realization in John's eyes, Sherlock tried to appease all the heavy feelings by kissing the other tenderly. "I love you."

"Love you too, Sherlock. I- I- I feel like I wish I could give you more, that I could be more brilliant for you-"

Sherlock groaned at this, and pushed his lips further. "Shut up, John," he murmured against their moving lips. "You're already perfect..."

"No, you're perfect"

"Then can we both be perfect, so there will be no arguments?" he winked.

John nodded, cuddling close to Sherlock, enjoying their last night of solitude away from the bustle of London, watching the sun set as the tide came in and washed away all traces of their lovemaking into the sea.

Chapter Text

Huddled over his latest experiment with human hair, Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and concentrated deeply, completely ignoring the onslaught of texts on his mobile which probably were from Mycroft anyway.

"Sherlock, Mycroft is texting me now. Can you please see what he wants?"

"Tell him I'm not here," he called out, hand poised to drop liquid into the beaker.

"He told me to quit lying."

"But I'm really busy, John!"

"And he's going to be here in two minutes because he won't listen to me, and you're ignoring him!"

"Stupid brother," Sherlock grumbled, hissing as a small green puff appeared on his experiment. "It's his fault for ruining this!"

John came into the kitchen, watching curiously as Sherlock attempted to salvage his experiment. "I tried, I swear. He's in a right state today. You didn't do anything, did you?"

"No," Sherlock huffed in defense. "I don't even want to talk to him as much as possible, remember?"

"Didn't completely embarrass Lestrade in front of everyone yesterday?"

No." Sherlock frowned, standing to kiss John's cheek. "I even gave him a clue privately, so it's all due to him that the crime's solved." A roar of the engine outside, and Sherlock knew that his beloved brother had already arrived. He gave one long smooch to John before pulling away, waiting for their visitor.

"Hmmmm." John was at a loss, so he stood on his tiptoes and kissed Sherlock, stealing their last moments before Mycroft barged in.

Mycroft strolled up the stairs, not bothering to knock. "Gentlemen," he said stiffly.

"Looks like he's going heavy on the cakes," John whispered to Sherlock. Chuckling, Sherlock squeezed John's hand as he smirked at Mycroft. "Hello, brother dear," he drawled. "Seems like you and the Detective Inspector celebrated his success last night... I never thought you'd ever crumple your suit."

A faint tinge reached Mycroft's cheeks. "There's no need for me to poke at your sexual endeavors, brother, as I believe you and Doctor Watson have done it everywhere in this flat."

"Not yet, really," Sherlock smirked cheekily. "We still have the kitchen and the window to fulfill..." Kissing John's cheek without any embarrassment, he raised his eyebrow. "What brings such an esteemed man here?"

"There's a little matter I need you to take care of." Mycroft pulled some papers from his briefcase. "In the events of your wedding, many things were overlooked, including your request to me, in fact."

Raising his eyebrows, Sherlock looked a little bit more interested. "Go on, brother." He held on tightly to John's hand and hoped that this was what they had been waiting for.

"Well, there are some papers for the two of you to sign, addendums to the marriage license and such, and then there are signatures required to go ahead with your other request. There is no reason it shouldn't be approved."

The detective's lip twitched in delight; he would have an actual job without having to wait for Lestrade's or anyone else's request, and he would actually earn money which would be very beneficial indeed. "I... Thank you, Mycroft. Really."

John looked at Sherlock, curious. "You never mentioned these, what are they for?"

"Job," Sherlock whispered breathlessly. John stared for a moment before kissed Sherlock. "You were serious, about earning a living so we could have kids, weren't you? Won't you miss being a consulting detective?"

Sherlock beamed down at John and nodded. "Of course. But I'll be having a job at the MI6, and I shall be their Consultant, or something of the, right, Mycroft?"

"In so many words, dear brother." Mycroft pushed the papers towards the two men, along with one more. "This is a list of women believed to suit your needs in terms of the criteria you gave me... for surrogates"

Now Sherlock was truly taken aback. "W-what?! But... but we need more time with that! We haven't even settled properly yet. Mycroft!"

"Simply for your consideration. Thought it best to bring everything over at once as I know you are not overly fond of my visits."

Mouth wide open, Sherlock shook a bit and without another moment's hesitation, actually embraced his brother. "You're such a git, did you know?"

John stared, mouth agape. Sherlock never touched Mycroft, much less hugged him. Generally, Sherlock didn't let anyone touch him but John. He waited until Sherlock released his brother, taking a  look at the paperwork in front of him. John read over the pages about their marriage, signing where required, making everything right and truly official before looking over the list. Giving a squeeze which he knew might not really be his last, Sherlock gave his brother a rare smile before pulling away. "Thank you, you meddling prat. I'll let you know when we decide on the woman. But it won't be very soon." Walking back towards John, he rested his chin on his shoulder. "Hey, handsome."

"Hey." Sherlock's voice made his heart flip over as he looked at the papers, handing Sherlock the pen. Kissing John's cheek, Sherlock moved so that he could sign the documents. "There. All official."

Mycroft collected the papers, leaving only the list of surrogates for them. "I will inform you about your job in two weeks, give you time to say goodbye to those at the Yard." John noticed Mycroft blush slightly and wondered how long it would be before Mycroft and Greg were together as he and Sherlock were.

"Bye, Mycroft. Thanks"

"Goodbye John, goodbye brother." With that, Mycroft was gone.

Turning to look at his brother, Sherlock gave him another small smile. "I guess I'll see you around..." he whispered, hand raising to give him a wave. He decided not to comment anymore about the obvious blushing when the talk came near to the topic of Lestrade- a favor, for everything Mycroft did. As soon as he heard the front door shut, he pulled John towards him and kissed him thoroughly. John wrapped his arms round Sherlock's neck lazily. "I could get used to this," he whispered against the detective's lips, "you being spontaneous all the time."

"Then maybe I could just come to the clinic and... decide to bang you against the wall where everyone can see?" he murmured against their swirling tongues, lips smirking. The thought made John shiver with desire. "Well, maybe not where everyone can see, but there are plenty of dark cupboards..."

Licking John's throat before biting it gently, Sherlock purred. "How about we do it in the theater?"

"The movie theater? Sherlock-" John gasped, surprised. "Aren't you, I dunno, self-conscious at all?" He wanted to pull the words back immediately, not desiring to ruining their delightfully tender and hot moment.

"I'm proud of you... and Mycroft will always get us out of trouble," he chuckled as his hands slipped up under John's jumper, twirling his fingers around those taut buds as soon as he found them. John's hand went to the table as his knees almost gave out. "Why are you proud of me?" he whispered, breathless. Sherlock suckled the skin on John's neck, leaving angry red marks here and there. "Because you're my doctor... my soldier who saved thousands of lives despite having his own on the line," he purred, tongue still continuing its work. "Because you're the John Watson I have loved... because you're mine."

John pulled Sherlock's head back, baring his throat, returning the gestures with the intent of leaving a nice mark, licking and sucking hard, occasionally using his teeth. "And you've saved my life countless times, rebuilt me, pieced me together, loved me more than I ever thought I deserved."

"Which is why I am proud of you," he murmured, imagining his husband do unspeakable things to him. "Window, at least? We could tick one place off our list, and we could ahh! be seen... be seen by some people as well. Exciting, isn't it, darling?"

"Addicted to danger, are we?" growled John, shoving Sherlock over to the window. Growling back, Sherlock raised his hand and twisted it a bit to open the window. "Only when I-I'm with you, Doctor."

"Just need to be careful," John moaned, back at Sherlock's neck, unbuttoning his shirt and trousers. "Don't want you falling out."

"I have you to catch me, I'm s-sure," he replied cheekily, doing the same gesture to his husband.

They never could seem to get their clothes off fast enough. Face flushing from the knowledge that they probably would have an audience, John shimmied out of his trousers and swung Sherlock's naked legs around his waist. "I never get to take you enough, darling," the last word a throaty growl in Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock moaned helplessly at that growl-fuck, John was sexy like that. He should do really do it more often. Holding on to the windowsill, his sole free hand fumbled to remove the last remaining hindrance to their love making. "Take my e-everything... John... take all of me!"

John's cock stroked Sherlock's hole, teasing as he drew moans from Sherlock with his lips at the detective's neck. "Beg for me, love," John growled again. "Beg until you can't stand it anymore."

"Fuck me John!" Sherlock almost screamed, sending passersby to actually look up and, well, admire the view. "Take me... Please... Pound on me until I b-break down... U-until your hard cock spills itself in me... John... Please John..."

John was shuddering; did Sherlock have any idea what his voice did to the doctor? Not prepping him anymore, John pressed in slowly, letting Sherlock adjust, the liberal amounts of precum making lube redundant.

"AHH!" Sherlock moaned out, gripping the windowsill tighter. More people had joined the small huddle at the base of their window, some even pointing to the couple. A text message sounded, which could only come from Mycroft and was disregarded, Sherlock meeting John's thrust with an equal bucking of his hips. John snarled low as Sherlock bucked against him. "Right then," and he proceeded to fuck Sherlock into the windowsill, keeping his arms tightly around his husband's back, pressing him closer to keep him from falling, making everything hotter and more real than ever.

More texts arrived, but Sherlock seemed not to even hear them through the blissful delight that his nerves were giving him. "Y-yesss," he hissed. "Mohhr... John... More for me... pour yourself into me... let m-me dry you off... Fuck...yes~!"

John pulled Sherlock closer, his lover's cock stroking and bouncing between their stomachs as he pounded harder, feeling his stomach begin to clench. How was it that he never seemed to be able to last very long?

"Ahh... ahhh... John!" At that, long spurts of his release came evident, shooting themselves even higher than ever before. Impressive. "Johnn... John... fuck...John..."

John managed to last fifteen seconds after Sherlock came, thrusting and pounding, kissing his detective, arms like iron around Sherlock's back. He screamed Sherlock's name when he came, pulling them back into the room and onto the floor to make sure he didn't accidentally let go.

Chuckling loudly despite how breathless he still was, Sherlock kissed John's lips over and over again. "Now that was a show," he grinned, hand rubbing John's hip. "Love you."

John started laughing from the thrill of it, kissing back. "Love you too. I'll bet all of Baker Street just got a lovely view of your arse."

"Maybe you'll get jealous after that," he winked. "Suitors would come over just to claim me from you. But my soldier won't let go, right?"

John's eyes flashed at the mention of others trying to claim what was his. "Never," he hissed, kissing the other side of Sherlock's neck very possessively.

"There, there, sweetheart," Sherlock cooed, a bit of a chuckle mixing in. "It's not as if they could defeat you."

John smiled, but doubts had found their way through his armor. Knowing Sherlock would see the change in his face, he whispered, suddenly scared, "But Moriarty defeated you. He almost separated us. What if that happened to you? I might not-"

Sherlock immediately pressed his lips on John's own the way he always did when his love started worrying about trivial things. "Mycroft has Moriarty, remember? I'll follow wherever you go, John, I promise you that... even in the other world..."

"Sherlock..." John stroked the hair back from the man's face, never tiring of the gesture. "Dear Sherlock, just make sure you don't go where I can't follow, and I'll do the same."

"I love you John... I promise you that." Sherlock closed his eyes and savored that feeling of John's hand on his face and head. "But in the meanwhile, we shall enjoy each other's company until the end of time."

"I like the sound of that." John rolled them on their sides, snuggling into Sherlock's chest. "Maybe we can do the kitchen table next time..."

Smirking at that proposal, Sherlock needed no words to agree. "Perhaps we should do it before Mycroft arrives."

"Wait, he's coming back?" John was startled out of his bliss, really not wanting Mycroft to see him naked.

"No, no, love," Sherlock chuckled. "I want to see his reaction when he sees us flustered."

"Yes, but, Mycroft-" was as far as John got before hearing footsteps.

What in the bloody hell... "Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted. "Don't come in yet!"

The footsteps paused. "Done with your little display yet?"

"We're bloody naked!" he groaned, getting up and helping John as well. "Unless you'd want to see that, better give us five minutes!"

"I thought you wanted him to see us like this," John hissed, struggling up from their position, trying to pull his clothes on only to realize his jumper had gone out the window. He grabbed Sherlock's dressing gown from its place on the back of the sofa and cleaned them both up hurriedly, shoving it under the sofa when finished. Groaning at the inconvenience that his brother was causing them, Sherlock did not bother with his shirt as well; he simply put on his pants and trousers after John wiped him down. But, not trusting Mycroft's wandering eyes, lest he actually become attracted to John, he grabbed his coat and placed it over his husband. "Come in now."

John clutched Sherlock's coat to him, inhaling deeply, astounded that the simple gesture already had him getting aroused again. He flushed scarlet as Mycroft entered, clearly disapproving of their behavior.

"Control yourself," Sherlock whispered to John as he furrowed his eyebrows at his brother. "And why did you come again, dear brother? Came to gloat?"

"To tell you to behave yourself for once, dear brother, and that you and John are coming to dinner tonight. No excuses."

"What?! Why?!" he growled, stepping more towards his brother as if challenging him.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his younger brother. "I would say 'because I said so,' but I know you'd only argue. You've eaten almost nothing the last four days despite Doctor Watson's best attempts to feed you, substituting sex for food I wonder? Because we are family and family should have dinner together once in a while, and because you can informally give Gre-Detective Inspector Lestrade your two weeks' notice while informing him you'll be working for me."

Rolling his eyes at the points that Mycroft so graciously enumerated, Sherlock sighed in defeat. "If I must, brother mine. Then again, I don't have much choice, do I? And correction: I won't work for you- I will work with you. Don't think even for just a second that I will allow myself to be subordinate to you for a second time." A thought flashed in his mind, and his slight sulk turned into a mischievous glee. "So, you do consider the Inspector as family, Mycroft? Why, I can almost hear the bells ringing!"

John choked back a laugh as Mycroft flushed.

"You have your husband with you. Am I not allowed to date as well?" Mycroft sounded more irritated with his younger brother than normal, holding tight to his umbrella.

"I'm not saying that I am against it, Mycroft, dear," he chuckled. "I was just repeating what I heard. Nevertheless, I shall go to this very bothersome dinner if my husband has no other plans for the evening. Do try to control your feet under the table, mhm, brother?"

Uncharacteristically refusing to answer, Mycroft turned on his heel and stormed out, texting the time of dinner (7pm) and the location to his brother. John waited until he was finally gone to burst out laughing, howling until there were tears in his eyes. Amused by John's reactions, Sherlock chuckled as well. "You seemed to have enjoyed the show, darling."

"He's a ponce, but I suppose he is family."

"Unfortunately," the taller man smirked. "Do you think it goes with the blood? Homosexual relationships? Your sister is interested in women as well..."

John smacked Sherlock's arm. "It's about love, you dolt. And don't forget, I was straight until I met you. I fell for you, Sherlock Holmes-Watson."

Dispelling any more thoughts of creating a survey amongst homosexual partners due to the smack on his arm, Sherlock hummed, "No. You were latently bisexual, dearest."

"And your reasons for that deduction?" John asked, knowing Sherlock's 'deduction' face was coming; he loved that face.

"You were in the military," Sherlock shrugged, eyes roaming around John's body to recall the clues. "You had witnessed homosexual intercourse among your colleagues, and yet you did not leave the service. You would have had if you were against it. You might even have been turned on when coming across one at the shared shower room."

John flushed, recalling some of the more torrid things he'd seen. "I suppose. I'd never really thought about it."

Smirking at his another success of deducing things about John, Sherlock gave a peck on his cheek. "I was attracted to you the moment I saw you, you know."

"At Bart's? I never did ask why you brushed me off at Angelo's that night."

Pinching John's cheeks affectionately, Sherlock smiled slightly. "I didn't know how to react- you know that you're my first, so I didn't have any experience in the matter at the time. Thinking that you hadn't any interest in me anyway, I simply decided and tried to be haughty to shoo you."

"Damn well worked. I didn't try again for a long time. You remember how I tried to set up an experiment for you?"

"Mhm?" he asked as he raised an eyebrow. "What experiment?"

"The one in the kitchen. The first time we kissed. After Baskerville."

"That was an experiment?" Sherlock chuckled, not believing that his doctor really just did that to test on him. But he wasn't upset-simply amused.

"You said things on that case that, well, affected me deeply. How I was your only friend, your compliments to me, your mistake with the sugar, and I thought 'What the hell? I may as well try.'"

"You're one gorgeous idiot," Sherlock chuckled as he pulled John close for a gentle kiss. "Mycroft was also... well, my friend, in a way, but we're brothers, so that doesn't count. We were... closer when we were kids, actually."

"Yeah, what happened there? I've never seen you two on good terms."

Lazily resting his hands on John's shoulders, Sherlock tilted his head as if to recall something. "He was at the university, and he didn't come home for my birthday, even though he knew that he was the only one who mattered in my life," Sherlock said with a sigh. "As we grew, his visits lessened, and I grew to hate him, knowing that he had forgotten me and moved on,  replacing me for his ambitions."

John watched Sherlock's face, stunned by the vulnerability he saw there, the longing for what once existed. "Hey," he whispered, stroking Sherlock's cheek. "He hasn't forgotten you, I don't think. He just got a very swelled head."

Rubbing his nose against John's, Sherlock smiled sadly. "I realized that when I myself went to university," he shared. "But it was a bit late to go back, so perhaps we all just played along and kept up. But I do care for him..Our banters really are just normal."

Thinking to make Sherlock laugh and smile again, John whispered, "Don't you think he always looks like he has a few pastries stuck up his arse?"

Sherlock chuckled at the joke and kissed John's nose as his thanks. "Mummy said that he's been addicted to cake since he was two."

"Always had a sweet tooth. Explains the dentist and the frequent root canals." John rubbed back, thumb rubbing circles on Sherlock's cheek.

"Oh, my Doctor Watson has been very observant as well," he chuckled with pride. "But I guess we'll get close again... it'd be nice..."

"Well, whatever happens, you have me. I'm never going anywhere."

"Well, that is good to hear, my dearest husband," Sherlock chuckled. "At least I have someone until I'm old and senile."

"You? Senile? I'm going to be the one forgetting where my glasses and cane are! You'll still be pointing things out with your not so subtle 'obvious' when I'm old and grey!"

"In any case, I won't forget that you hold my heart," Sherlock concluded. "And we might even have sex still even though our bones creak." A wink and a laugh, and the detective pulled his husband to a tight embrace. John hugged back, nuzzling Sherlock's chest. "I am your heart, and you hold mine," he whispered

He kissed the top of John's head and smiled. "Mycroft said that my salary is about five thousand pounds a month. More than enough, I think."

John froze, the number overwhelming. "Five thousand?" He stared up at Sherlock. "That's-that's a lot of money"

"I also said the same," Sherlock shrugged. "But he said that I'll be doing a lot of work anyway, especially for the secret agents, so it's ample enough."

John nodded, thoughtful, remembering the last sheet Mycroft had given them. "So, we're waiting? Getting settled in your new job and all before thinking about kids again? We just haven't really talked about it since-" John didn't finish, shying away from the memory of lying in Sherlock's arms, bleeding.

Sherlock nodded while their arms were still against each other's. "Indeed. But as I've said, we don't need to hurry because I know it will be a huge responsibility." He even sighed as another detail was brought to mind, and he buried his face in the crook of John's neck. "Mycroft told me that I'll be needed to stay at the office the whole weekend sometimes..."

John groaned, already hating when they had to be apart for him to work at the clinic. "I don't suppose we can set up a camp bed for me? So I can sleep over?"

"I'm not sure..." Sherlock mumbled as he nuzzled more into John's skin. "I would want you to work with us as well... be the office doctor or something so I could get to see you once in a while..."

"I think I'd like that," John murmured, stroking Sherlock's head. "What time is it?"

"I'd do my best to request His Highness Mycroft," he said with a slight roll of his eyes. "Six. We'd better prepare. The restaurant's a bit posh."

"Indeed. 'There to see the queen' is the phrase we used once.'" John sighed. "Mycroft must really trust you with him and Lestrade to take you out in public."

"I assume that his venue can only be attended to by the richest people," Sherlock grumbled. "More privacy, less people to blab. And well, he has money, so it's all too easy."

John kissed Sherlock quickly before heading to the bathroom to wash up, lightly smacking Sherlock's arse as he went past. Smirking, Sherlock proceeded to their shared room, taking out the suit which Mycroft had so generously given him one time. Prada. Too flashy for normal use. John splashed water on his face and ran a wet comb through his hair, adding a little gel to smooth it down from their torrid sex earlier, adding a dab of Sherlock's favorite cologne before heading back into the room. Hearing that John was done with the bathroom, Sherlock placed his suit on their bed before going out and meeting his beloved. "You smell nice," he grinned.

"Just for you, love." John dug through his wardrobe, finally coming up with a black suit.

"Make sure you brush your hair!" John called to Sherlock.

"Yes, yes," Sherlock called back, splashing water on his face as well and using the comb John used to try to fix his unruly curls. Wouldn't matter anyway as Mycroft had already witnessed their moment together.

John shrugged on the suit, realizing suddenly why hadn't worn it recently. He stripped it off and threw it in the corner, diving back into the wardrobe to compose himself, struggling to keep quiet as sobs racked his body. Finally returning, Sherlock wondered why his husband was actually trying to hide himself. "John? Anything the matter?"

John fought back against tears as he threw himself into Sherlock's arms, indicating what was his black tux, not a suit at all, in a heap on the floor. He had no idea how it hadn't been destroyed or repaired or thrown out.

"Hey... hey..." Sherlock cooed, trying to peer over John's shoulder as to what the matter was. "What's wrong?"

"Tux," was all John could get out, his shoulder aching suddenly in memory of the pain, startling him as to how scared he still was.

"Shh, shh, John... it's fine," Sherlock comforted, hand rubbing on John's back. "There's still time. We can get another one... a white one... all right? It'll be fine..."

John nodded, clutching at Sherlock. "Don't ever leave me. Don't ever let me go."

He kissed John's cheek over and over again. "I won't, I promise. We'll be safe at the restaurant, okay? My brother will probably have his minions all over the place..."

Finally John calmed down, kissing Sherlock hard for a long moment before turning back to the wardrobe and looking for another suit. Sherlock moved at John's back, helping him find the white one which he knew was somewhere in John's wardrobe. "There..." he pointed out.

John took it off the hanger, bringing it over to the bed and laying it next to Sherlock's.

"Black and white, huh?" he sniffed.

"Yes... it's perfect," Sherlock whispered against John's ears. "We complement each other, don't we? Lovely. You'll look gorgeous in that."

John flushed, wiping his eyes with a discarded shirt. He dressed silently, letting the material wrap around him and warm him before turning to see Sherlock; he stopped breathing for a moment. As soon as he saw John comforted, Sherlock proceeded to dress up to check on John as soon as he could. When he finished, he turned to his husband and grinned, surprised at the look John gave him.

"Breathtaking," John finally managed, reaching up to help the detective fix his bowtie, crooked as always.

Smiling his thanks, Sherlock fixed John's bangs while his tie was being straightened. "There... you've finally smiled. Good, John... that's better."

John nodded. "Would you kiss me?" he whispered, "before we leave..."

"Of course, darling..." Leaning down, he pressed his lips against John's. "Love you."

John leaned up, resting one hand at the nape of Sherlock's neck. "Love you too."

Chapter Text

In the cab, Sherlock kept John close even though he knew the man's fear had already dissipated. He kept on kissing John's forehead to let him know that he was there, that he would always be there. John was grateful for Sherlock's attention, his clear, loving care in the face of John's own distress. He finally relaxed, dispelling all thoughts of Moriarty and focusing only on his love.

Once they arrived, Sherlock handed the cabbie some cash and got out to open the door for John without even waiting for the change. He took John's arm in his own, and they proceeded to the restaurant as the door was opened by a man in a very smart suit. "Reservation for Mycroft Holmes, please." John held tight to Sherlock as they were led into the restaurant, through dimly lit tables to a back room where Mycroft and Greg were waiting, snogging.

Exasperated, Sherlock coughed to let his dear brother and his lover know that they were actually there. "Good evening." John couldn't hide his laughter as the two sprung apart, flushed from exertion. John pulled out Sherlock's chair for him before sitting himself. He waited until John settled by his side before searching for his hand and squeezing it. "For the record, that was disgusting."

"And watching the two of you from the sidewalk of Baker Street wasn't?" Mycroft looked vaguely triumphant.

"You watched, brother," Sherlock replied. "You were actually interested."

John was mortified that Mycroft had seen him taking Sherlock apart like that but not as embarrassed as Greg apparently; the DI knocked over his glass, spilling water everywhere. Chuckling, Sherlock handed him a spare table napkin, helping with the flow. "Don't worry, Lestrade, he already has thoughts of shagging you against his desk. Just be sure to be quiet because you'll both be sent out if you make too much noise."

"Anyway-" Mycroft cleared his throat to change the subject as Lestrade blushed and glared at the detective, but Sherlock was on a roll. Seeing to it that the spill was gone, Sherlock's predatory smirk widened while he clutched John's hand tighter. "Or maybe," he teased, "Lestrade here will invite brother dearest to his own office, and make love to him while his idiotic colleagues are eavesdropping. Anderson would be superbly horrified."

John snorted water all over his plate, choking as he inhaled some.

"Your kiss really seemed dedicated though," he went on. "Mycroft was actually suckling more than he can handle. Such a sight to see. Mummy would have been teary-eyed."

John was crying, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he struggled to regain control. "So- sorry," he gasped. "Sherlock forgot to take his meds today." He tried to elbow Sherlock in the ribs, just barely grazing them as the detective dodged. Biting his lip, Sherlock decided that it was time to stop, especially with the horrified look on Mycroft's face. "All right. So, have you ordered?"

Mycroft nodded, not speaking to his brother, instead addressing John. "Has he told you all the details of his new job?"

John nodded. "You really intend to keep him from me on the weekends?" He snuck a look at Sherlock.

All the while, Sherlock observed Lestrade, who seemed helpless and a bit embarrassed at the things he had just said, keeping very quiet in case the teasing started up again. Perfect. "I have a deal to make, brother."

"What would that be?" Mycroft refused to look at Sherlock, clearly trying to comfort Lestrade under the table.

"I won't make... ah... embarrassing comments anymore..." he smirked as his quick eyes darted to the space between the people on his opposite side. Hand squeezing: boring. Hand job would have been a better solution.

"If? Come now Sherlock, clearly your deal has conditions."

Kissing John's cheek to show that he had not forgotten his doctor, Sherlock stared straight into his brother's eyes. "If you somehow let John in at the Head Office."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason for your request? Although your promise to drop the teasing is tempting, it will be very difficult for you to maintain it for any length of time."

"You know that I always make an effort to keep my promises," he grinned. "And since John is involved, I'd be sure to not break it. Oh, and I also will continue to help Lestrade here once in a while if you agree."

Mycroft considered, then nodded. "I'm sure I can find a place for John. Are you searching for employment for your husband or just visitor's privileges?"

"Depends on him, but any would do. Just as long as he can stay with me when I'm needed for longer than a day." A kiss on John's hand, and Sherlock smiled. John's heart soared; Sherlock grew more considerate every moment they were together. Leaning back, Sherlock tipped his hand and called for a waiter. "All in your hands, Mycroft. I'll even treat you a cake tonight."

"Done." John could tell Mycroft was trying not to sound too eager, but the politician failed spectacularly. "Careful, Lestrade, your boyfriend's so sweet you may end up with cavities if you snog him long enough."

Trying to not laugh loudly lest the other customers be horrified, Sherlock was pleased with his husband's retort. Now that was beautifully done. As the waiter arrived, Sherlock instructed: "Give me your largest cake, and make it as a take-away. We'll get it when we leave. Charge it to me." He handed the man his credit card and saluted his brother.

John found himself very turned on by Sherlock in that moment, smiling at his love, stroking the palm of his hand very lightly with one finger. Sherlock knew that  John needed him, and yet he couldn't be of help because of dinner. He squeezed the man's hand apologetically, meaning to convey  I'll make it up to you later, promise. John nodded, turning his attention to the appetizers as they arrived. After the initial awkwardness of everything, conversation opened up with food and drink. John fed Sherlock a good portion of his food because the detective kept refusing to eat, and both of them pretended not to notice when Mycroft and Greg started snogging again over a piece of pasta.

If this dinner were for Mycroft to show he and Lestrade really were together, then there was really no point to our attending it, Sherlock thought. And he and John hadn't come here just to watch those two snog. Their turn. "John," the detective whispered, suddenly pulling his husband close. John's heart pounded hard as Sherlock's lips closed over his, and he sighed, contented as the detective kissed him, losing himself in everything that was Sherlock. As if drinking the wine off John's lips, Sherlock immensely deepened the kiss, showing his brother how a kiss really should be. John was breathless as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock, tasting the detective's dinner and drink on his lips, on his tongue. His hands went to those gorgeous, soft, midnight curls, stroking Sherlock's scalp, pulling him closer.

Breathing shakily through his nose, Sherlock tried to maintain the kiss until he desperately needed air. One last suckle, and he pulled away with a soft, wet sound and smirked at the other two who were flushing. "Lestrade's tongue is quite long," the curly-haired man shrugged. "I'm sure it can be put to more uses. Practice."

John snorted, laughing as he looked up at Sherlock and back at the two blushing men. How long had they been watching? He shot Greg a grin. "They learn fast, so feel free to experiment."

Taking in some pasta as if nothing had happened, Sherlock silently prodded his brother's foot underneath the table, telling him that he'd have to make a huge effort real soon. "'They,' John?" Sherlock chuckled. "Mycroft has had more experiences than I. I'm sure he can keep up more."

"Simply an observation about the two of you. I mean, when we started- I've never seen anyone learn that fast. I figured your brother is the same seeing as you can both tell whether or not I've slept, for how long, and what pajamas I wore."

"Mhm, but you're my teacher, so I'm sure everything just went well according to plan." He rubbed his nose against John's momentarily before licking it. "We should spend a weekend with these two."

"Do we have to?" John whispered, really just wanting to keep Sherlock for himself, blushing at Sherlock's compliment. He wanted to feel John being protective and possessive, so, smirking further, Sherlock went on. "Maybe Lestrade here can teach me some more tricks. He does know how to tickle a the fancy of a Holmes."

John growled low, ignoring Greg and Mycroft' reactions; there was only Sherlock now. "You wouldn't dare..."

Licking his lips, Sherlock raised his eyebrows as he teased John again. "He is an inspector... I'm sure he had lots of experience too, right, brother? No offense, of course, love."

John grabbed Sherlock by the lapels, yanking him in so their lips were centimeters apart. "I was a soldier, traveled the globe, had quite a name for myself. I'm sure I have more experience."

"Really?" his husband egged on. "Even in different... ah, positions?"

That did it. John crashed their lips together, clearly proving to Sherlock just who he was married to and what he was capable of. He didn't intend to let the detective go until he was gasping for air or finally learned to breathe through his nose while kissing. Wonderful- just as he wanted it, too. Sherlock made this kiss rougher than he had ever done before, involving teeth all the time, and even tasting a hint of copper on John's lip. "I love it when you... g-get jealous..."

John tasted the blood too and growled again. "Want me jealous? You- got it"

"What if I kiss the Detective Inspector in here right now?" Sherlock smirked against their lips, eyes opening to look triumphantly at Mycroft, who was looking a bit horrified.

"You- wouldn't- dare. You wouldn't make it across the table. I wouldn't let you make it."

Sherlock pulled away with effort, only to grab Lestrade's lapels. "Look, husband. One step closer..."

John slapped Sherlock's hands and pulled him physically away from the table, slamming him into the wall. "Sorry, guys," he hissed, glaring at Sherlock, "My husband is really trying my patience tonight"

"Ooh, Inspector!" Sherlock teased, mimicking a girl. "I think we have to solve this at the loo, don't you think, darling mine?"

John bit Sherlock's neck, careful not to draw blood. "You. Are. Mine. Understand?"

"Of course, John. Might I make it up to you at the bathroom?" Turning to his companions, he grinned. "Excuse us for fifteen minutes."

John was dragged through the restaurant to the bathroom where Sherlock shoved him in and locked the door. "The hell was that?"

Sherlock did not respond. Instead, he just kneeled on front of John and unzipped his trousers, making sure to only let his length out.

John gasped. "Oh- oh God-"

Sherlock looked up with innocent eyes, and he experimentally gave that manhood a small lick. John shuddered, staring into Sherlock's intense gaze, holding onto the sink for support.

"Don't me mad at me, John," Sherlock hummed while licking John's length.

"Kind of hard to stay mad right now." John watched as he grew hard under Sherlock's tongue.

"Good," was the last word Sherlock said before taking all of John in his mouth. John groaned, now holding onto Sherlock's head for support, fingers tightening in the man's hair. "Oh- god- fuck!"

Humming so that the vibrating motions could send spikes of pleasure up and down John's spine, Sherlock doubled his efforts even though his knees were already on fire. John could barely hold himself up, Sherlock's tongue and humming taking him apart. "You're- fucking- amazing," John groaned. Rubbing John's legs though the fabric, Sherlock suckled and even let the head go to the back of his throat.

"Ahhhh!" John's knees almost gave out as Sherlock began to deep throat him. "Jesus fuck," he swore, almost ready. "Sherlock- I-"

One huge suckle, and Sherlock prepared his mouth for the fireworks of John Watson. John came with moans and whimpers, shuddering, tears leaking from his eyes in sheer bliss. When he was done, he let his legs give way and collapsed to the floor. Not wasting even a single drop of John's seeds, Sherlock swallowed them all, grinning at the exquisite taste. "I want to have a supply of that," he teased. John trembled in Sherlock's arms at the thought, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "Jesus, what am I to do with you, huh?"

"Love me forever?" he suggested innocently while tucking back John's length inside his trousers.

"You know I already will."

Sherlock placed one last kiss on John's mouth before standing and offering his hand. "The boys are probably snogging again."

John groaned but smiled, letting the detective pull him up. "Yes, well, you did just blow me in the loo, so they probably feel entitled." Then "Did you know the length of Greg's tongue just from observation?"

Keeping a stony face, Sherlock responded. "No, we kissed once, after I solved a crime. I think he was a great kisser. Mycroft's one lucky bastard."

John's grip tightened. "When?"

"When I thought that giving a joke this time was most appropriate," he winked.

"No, you sod. When did you kiss Lestrade?"

"I told you," Sherlock chuckled, "It was just a joke, John. I haven't kissed him. Yet."

John pushed Sherlock against the wall again. "You will not kiss him, you will never kiss him, and he will never be kissed by you. Got it, detective?"

"Got it," Sherlock laughed helplessly, kissing John's nose at the process. "And if Mycroft attempts to kiss you?"

"I'll knock him out. Sorry, but your brother does nothing for me."

Challenging John more, Sherlock smirked wider. "And if we kiss each other?"

"You and Mycroft? Ugh, Sherlock! That's just wrong."

"He's sexy," Sherlock chuckled. "And we do love each other very much..."

"You do realize if you keep on like this, we will sleep in separate rooms. For a month," John added. "No sex, no touching, no kissing. Cold turkey."

"Really, John?" Sherlock drawled as he kept his mouth impossibly close to John's without touching it. "If you shut me out, then maybe I'd agree to have a threesome with my brother and that Inspector. Why, I could even kiss Mycroft after this..."

John kissed him hard, nicking Sherlock's lip and sucking on it to stop the bleeding before capturing Sherlock's tongue and working it over as if it were Sherlock's cock, keeping him firmly pressed against the wall the entire time.

"Mhmpff... John..." Sherlock moaned against their tug-of-lips, feeling very much overpowered by a provoked John. "All right... all ahh... right... no more teasing!"

"You-sure? Dunno if... I... trust you..."

"I'll let you handcuff me to the bed for one whole day if I break my promise."

"Might do it anyway, just to keep you for myself."

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock removed himself from John's grasp. "I'm all yours, sweetheart. I'm not daft to let go of you."

John nodded. "All right, all right. I forgive you I suppose, just don't tease me about that. I don't really have a sense of humor when it comes to losing you."

Kissing John's finger where the wedding band was, Sherlock smiled. "You'd never lose me, John."

Stroking Sherlock's face, John said, "We better get back. I'm starving again"

He nodded, and holding John's hand tightly in his own, they returned to their private room, only to see Lestrade straddling Mycroft, their cocks actually visible.

John pulled Sherlock back from the room, dragging him to the side. "Ummm, Sherlock?"

"Those two, daft men," Sherlock growled, knowing the sight of the private organs of the men he could consider as near-friends would forever scar his mind.

"What should we do?"

"Join them?" he smirked. "But not them, as in with them. Just us, but in their presence...?"

"You're going to scare the pants off of them."

"And they didn't?" he chuckled.

John grinned, thrilled Sherlock had taken his hint. He reached around his husband and rapped on the edge of the wall, clearing his throat. Smirking widely, Sherlock started to speak without even listening to the embarrassed words of the others. "Since you two so wonderfully showed to us your ah... behavior, we thought it best to join you."

John glanced in to see Mycroft and Greg struggling to disentangle themselves, and he fought to keep from laughing.

"No? You don't want us to... what's the phrase... get off on this very memorable place?" he continued. "We are family, after all..."

"Shut up, Sherlock," Greg snapped.

"We are- ah- decent now," Mycroft called.

"No..." the tall, slender man continued, hands already unzipping his trousers. "Do continue. You two are going to be married anyway."

John grabbed Sherlock's hand. "Seriously, Sherlock? Put your trousers back on!"

Giving John a knowing smile, Sherlock continued pulling down his trousers, but not his boxers.

"We're in a public place!" John squeaked. "Sherlock!"

"But we're in a reserved room, John," Sherlock grinned. "These two did manage to be proud of their symbols..."

"Sherlock, I'm not getting off with you in front of your brother! His name may as well be a safeword!"

Sherlock hooked his finger on his boxers, attempting to pull it down. "I didn't know that you were gifted, Mycroft."

John grabbed Sherlock's wrist. "Don't. Please. That's private, and it's for just you and me, not for show."

Sherlock leaned down and whispered to John's ears. "I know, John. Look, they're dressing up again. So will I." He pulled his trousers up, and fixing them, grinned.

"You are impossible!" John smacked Sherlock's arm. "I really should punish you for this."

He kissed John's lips in apology. "So now, my dear men, you should actually go to the loo if you want to have a private moment. My John here gets upset."

Mycroft and Greg practically ran past John and Sherlock as the two sat down to resume their meal.

He rolled his eyes at the two. "It's not as if they were already eating each other out everywhere else."

"Sherlock! I'm trying to finish my dinner!"

Patting John's head, Sherlock decided not to keep his comments to himself for a bit.

"Thank you." John soon finished his meal, noticing Sherlock wasn't eating. "Come on, you have to eat something."

Sherlock prodded his plate of pasta before hesitantly eating some.

"Here, let me." John took Sherlock's fork and began to feed him, gently, kindly. "You're too thin. I worry about you."

Pouting a bit, Sherlock opened his mouth and bit in small pieces. "Food is for transport."

John groaned. "Yes, Sherlock, and yours is undernourished."

Sherlock sulked and didn't respond to John's words, but he tried his best to eat everything the other was giving him. John made sure Sherlock ate at least most of his pasta and all his greens, watching the other carefully. "I love you, you know," he whispered, setting the fork down.

He nodded and stared at his meal. Of course he knew...he loved John with his whole heart as well. "So do I..." he mumbled.

"Sorry for forcing you to eat. I really do worry about how thin you are."

"I know it's for my health..." he mumbled, still refusing to look at John. "But sometimes... I just can't bear its taste."

"Why not?" Sherlock had never been this open with him about food before.

"It's all bland..." he murmured. "But sometimes, it's too sweet or sour or bitter, or a mixture of all. Which is disgusting."

"Is it ever not that?"

"Sometimes, yes..." he responded as he fiddled with his hands. "Which is why Mycroft doesn't try anymore. I eat when I'm hungry."

John nodded, taking Sherlock's hands in his own. "All right, then. I'll make sure we always have food, and you can eat when you want. Is there anything I can keep around you like?"

Glad that John understood him, Sherlock finally smiled. "Just some bread would do... bagels, croissants..."

"Carbs, got it. And some whipped cream? Chocolate?"

Chuckling now, Sherlock's eyes gleamed. "I think that you prefer that more."

"You never objected. And if I remember, you started everything with the cream, not me. I take full responsibility for the chocolate, though."

Rolling his eyes, the curly-haired man insisted. "The stewardess asked... and I was experimenting."

"You're always experimenting on me."

"Because you're pretty," Sherlock said, leaning for a kiss.

"You're gorgeous," John whispered against his husband's lips.

Chapter Text

John checked the clock for the tenth time in as many minutes, not even trying to read his book anymore; Sherlock was late. He was surprised Mycroft was letting him come home in the middle of the week, but he certainly wasn't going to complain... except that Mycroft had called at six to let him know Sherlock would be coming home and it was now seven-thirty. The detective usually bounded up the stairs within fifteen minutes of being released from his brother's sight. Something just wasn't right.

Glaring at everything that crossed his path, Sherlock stalked out of the cab, ignoring the driver's attempt to give him his change and banging the door when he entered 221 Baker Street, not even making an effort to run up the stairs to see John like he was used to doing. John heard him coming, excited until he heard the heavy footfalls on the stairs, suddenly confused. God, he sounds pissed, John thought before Hurricane Sherlock swept into the flat. Glaring at John the most, Sherlock did not even bother to greet him or even give him a kiss. He simply went to the kitchen and began boiling water for a cup of tea.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. "How was your day, love?"

"Plain. And I bet that yours was ever so lovely and fascinating. Am I wrong, Watson?" he growled, his eyebrows furrowing in complete disgust for his... companion.

The words stuck like daggers in John's chest. "What- I don't- Sherlock?!" The detective had never called him Watson.

"No, I was wrong. My day was very enlightening, actually." Glaring at his husband, if he could still refer to him as such anymore, he frowned. "You and Moran." He said the name with utter distaste, spitting it.

"You mean Sebastian? How did you-no, I should know better than to ask that since I am talking to you after all. Sherlock, we were in the service together. He called me up and asked if we could have lunch. It was good to get reacquainted." John didn't understand the big deal.

"Sebastian?!" he growled. "I bet you call him Seb all the time. You and him eating lunch together, laughing, even sharing your glasses and utensils!"

"Sherlock!" John just stared. "The only time I call him Seb is if I'm just too lazy to say his full name. He calls me John. Everybody calls me John." Then, "Wait, how did you know about the utensils?"

Turning off the kettle when it boiled, Sherlock simply growled some more. "He even kissed your cheek, you bastard, and you haven't told me a single word!" He turned around and refused to look at the traitor. "Mycroft, of course. Your Seb is under constant watch."

"He was being friendly, you prat! And why is he under constant watch? You've been spying on me? Don't trust me when I'm not around you all the time, is that it? There's nothing to tell!"

"It doesn't matter why he is being watched. The fact remains that I was not spying on you- you just came into view when my brother was observing your... your man, and he told me." He heaved heavily, as if breathing was suddenly difficult. "Friends don't kiss each other that intimately, John! You were even holding hands once!"

"He was showing me scars from a fight, asking if I thought they were healing well. And yes it bloody does matter why Sebastian is under surveillance!" John was starting to turn red with anger and embarrassment. Sherlock was clearly overreacting to the entire thing.

"He squeezed your hand!" Sherlock shouted back. "And fine! If you must know, he was seducing you, trying to get you under him because he's Jim bloody Moriarty's right-hand man!"

John felt all the blood drain from his face. "What?" His voice was emotionless but low, very dangerous.

"You heard me," Sherlock groaned. "And I see you looking at him, longingly, as if you were only a free man, you'd want him."

"You're losing it, Sherlock. I don't look at him with longing. How could I do that when I'm blessed enough to have you?" John fought to keep his voice steady, the accusations too wild to be believable, even for Sherlock. Sherlock's voice was breaking now. "B-because he's younger, much better skilled with people, and you were... friends ages ago. That's why."

"Sherlock, stop this!" John was shaking, clenching his hands into fists. "You are learning, you're so much better with people than when we first met, and I've only ever seen Seb as a mate. I don't look at him the way I look at you." Then John heard his words echo in his head. Oh fuck...

"So much better," Sherlock repeated with a snarl, throwing his mug in the sink, shattering it. "I'm leaving, John. Be happy with the life on the other side." He made for the door, tightening his scarf as he went.

"NO!" John leapt from his chair, grabbing Sherlock and shoving him against the wall. "You aren't leaving. I won't let you. Don't do this to me, Sherlock, I love you! All I meant is that you've learned, you can learn. I only have eyes for you. You have to know that!" He felt his eyes burn with tears of confusion and hurt. Why was Sherlock doing this to him?

Sherlock continued his glare but directed it to the floor. "You don't, John. Infatuation is often mistaken as love. I was wrong. I won't contact you again."

John grabbed Sherlock's left hand and held it against his own, showing Sherlock their rings. "You see these? Do you know what they say? Amazing. My first ever compliment to you when you deduced me in the cab on the way to Brixton. On our first case together, before I chased  you all over London, before I saved your life the first of so many times. And I meant it then and I still mean it now. You. Are. Amazing, Sherlock. There's only ever been one man for me, and I'm looking at him right now. Please-" his voice finally broke, a few tears leaking from the corner of his eyes. "Please don't leave me."

Sherlock took a quick look at John, nearly crying himself when he witnessed the man in this state. He bit his lip, ashamed of what he had done to his husband. Sherlock clearly did not deserve such a beautiful, perfect man. Limping, the detective managed to pull away and sank onto his sofa, burying his face in his hands. John stood there for a moment, watching Sherlock cry. Tears continuing to leak from his own eyes, he slowly went to his love, sitting next to him and gently putting his arm around Sherlock's shoulders. Sherlock sighed; he was such a dolt, a wanker, a bloody idiot for everything he had accused his husband of. "I have failed you, John," he whispered between sobs.

"Shhh." John slowly rubbed Sherlock's back, slow, lazy circles, knowing the pressure should help. "You- you couldn't have known. We've seen so little of each other lately that I'm not surprised you're jealous I'm spending time with another man. God, Sebastian really worked for Moriarty? You've probably just saved my life again, you know that?"

Stubborn, Sherlock turned away again from John, crying to himself over and over again. Damn him and his stupid acts. "I s-shouted at you, John... I shouldn't have done that... I was not ful-fulfilling my pro-promise to be good to you," he sobbed. "I need to leave you... y-you deserve a better one..."

"We've haven't had a proper fight since our wedding, did you know that?"

"J-John..." Sherlock sobbed some more.

"Couples fight. Jealousy is normal. And sometimes, in a heated argument with everything on the line, things are said people don't mean. Then they regret it and the other person is compassionate enough to forgive them and ask for forgiveness in return."

Slowly, Sherlock turned, and he pounced on his husband's body, greedy for his heat and understanding. "I-I'm so sorry..." he whimpered. "I was thinking t-too much... I just missed you, and things g-got hazy when... when I saw you together... especially with him of all people..."

The wind was knocked out of John as Sherlock attacked, holding him tight. "I accept your apology, love," he whispered, panting slightly from Sherlock's exuberance to hold him, not caring that Sherlock had just wiped his nose on John's jumper. "I've missed you too, and I'm sorry if what I did made you think I anything but loved you. You are my world, Sherlock."

Realizing what he was doing, Sherlock hesitantly pulled away. " I ruined your j-jumper," he pouted as he stared at it. "I'm really so-sorry, John... I'm such a fool."

"I have others," John said dismissively. "Sherlock..." He cupped the detective's face with his hand. "Darling, love..."

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John, although he was quite wet with tears. "Forgive me?"

"Of course I do. I forgive you, and I love you. Forever and always."

Sloppily wiping his tears with his sleeves, Sherlock turned back to the kitchen, taking in what he had ignored before. "You made dinner."

"I didn't think you'd eaten all week. I kept it simple, you know, bread and jam essentially, although I think I could use a glass of wine now."

Sherlock smiled as he realized that John had remembered his dislike for food. "T-Thank you, John... really..."

"Anytime. Really. Come on." John pulled his husband to his feet and led him over to the table, lighting the candle and pulling Sherlock's chair out for him. Sherlock felt vulnerable, weak and useless, almost childlike under John's care. "I wish I could take care of you the way you take care of me," he sighed.

"You do take care of me. Right now you're bringing home the money, and you absolutely spoil me in bed. You never had the advantage of a more caring childhood, so you aren't as familiar with being loved around the house. But, like I said before, you're learning, and you're brilliant at it."

The taller man reached out and held John's hand, simply held it to keep the connection. "I love you, John. Immensely so. I don't think I can still live without you."

"I know I can't. I need you, Sherlock. And I love you too, you silly, silly genius." John squeezed Sherlock's hand gently, giving him a tentative smile.

"You must have such a high tolerance for sociopaths," he said while nuzzling into the hand. "Which is perfect."

"I have an infinite store of patience, Sherlock. Besides, why would I settle for ordinary when I can have you?"

"Because... because you will have a chance of a more normal life?" he suggested.

"Screw normality. You give me danger and excitement, and you give me more love than I feel I bloody well deserve."

"Of course you deserve it" Sherlock pouted. "It's nothing compared to everything you give me."

"If I deserve what you give, you certainly deserve what I can give you. Don't sell yourself short, love." John looked at Sherlock, an idea forming. "You know, after couples fight, they usually have make-up sex..."

Fighting a giggle, the detective simply settled for grinning. "Now, or after dinner? You did make this for me, didn't you?"

"Dinner will keep. I think you need this right now. You need to feel how much I love you."

He nodded stood, keeping John's hand in his and leading them both to the sofa before lying down, pulling John on top of him. "Then show me your love, Doctor Watson-Holmes."

John kissed Sherlock, very gently at first, letting his hands massage the detective's head as he started to deepen the kiss. Sherlock moaned, his face still damp from all his crying. But it didn't matter anymore; they had just proven that their feelings, especially John's, could never be replaced that instantly. "Hmm... John..."


"I love you so much..." he gasped out, hips bucking in desperate need of his husband.

"I love you too, don't you ever doubt it." John  ground against Sherlock as he felt his desperation, kissing his neck and sucking gently. Moaning louder, Sherlock didn't have the heart or the mind to disagree. "Not anymore... I p-pro...mhm...mise..."

John smile, nipping at his love's neck before stripping them of their respective shirt and jumper. He lowered his lips to Sherlock's nipple, teasing it with his tongue before biting. He wanted Sherlock to really feel him, to know exactly how he felt about the man. Arching his back towards his husband, Sherlock exclaimed an "Oh!" before threading his fingers into John's hair to encourage him to continue with his antics. "J-John... Yes... that's... that'sssss per-ahh-fect!"

John hummed as he worked, picking snatches of songs he knew. He moved to Sherlock's other nipple now, keeping his fingers on the one he'd already worked over. Silly John, humming, it wasn't something he couldn't even comprehend at such a moment. What was John doing to him? This was torture; he needed John right now. "D-don't tease... John... John..."

John growled, reaching down and stripping Sherlock fully, one hand running over his cock before he started to stroke and twist gently, mouth still on his lover's chest.

"Hmmm... fuck... yes, yes! His pleasure points were pampered, and John was doing such a wonderful job on keeping him on cloud nine. "T-take me... my knight... I'm... I'm all yours..."

John stopped, brining his face to hover back over Sherlock's. "That's a new name, my detective," he purred, kissing Sherlock and resuming his stroking, thumb flicking Sherlock's tip as he spoke.

"You're my... mhmn... knight who s-saved me from eternal... damnation in this boring world... m-makes sense..." he groaned, arching up again to get more of the kiss and to wrestle his tongue with his husband's. John let Sherlock capture his tongue, gasping as the man began to suck greedily. One handed, John worked off his own jeans and pants, only letting go of Sherlock to tug them fully off and throw them. At the sight of the freed and erect manhood, Sherlock managed to growl again. He loved that. "John... s-so huge... always so f-full..." he purred, a bit breathless at his anticipation.

John slicked himself down with his precum, and brought his cock close to Sherlock, just stroking his hole gently. "Ready?" he whispered, breaking the kiss to look into Sherlock's eyes. Who wouldn't be, especially with the promise of his beautiful husband's cock filling him up to completion? He moaned in reply, one hand clutching the sofa, the other on John's back. "Yess...."

John pushed in, very, very slowly so Sherlock would have time to adjust to the feeling, to feel John inside, to feel just how much he loved his amazing detective. John watched Sherlock's face, savoring the expression, memorizing everything he could. Sherlock's face seemed to morph in every second; pain flashed in his features, then indifference, then complete pleasure as the tip so very gently pressed his prostate. His eyes closed, his mouth hung open as he took in the fullness of being taken by John.

John kissed that open mouth, tongue plunging in to take what it needed as he started to thrust gently into Sherlock. Sherlock took that tongue as his distraction, pulling him back to the ground as wonderful groans and moans and pants were pulled from him. Before, he had never thought that he would actually engage in sexual relations with another human being, but now, here he was, the sex-crazed individual he was even proud of. "S-so... delicious Jawn... John... More... Hard... uh... Harder... "

John obliged, thrusting harder, driving Sherlock down into the sofa, working him over with his mouth, whispering "Sherlock" with ever spare breath he could muster. Opening his legs wider, even raising them up to his chest so that he could accommodate John pounding on him, Sherlock's breath was going from needy to erratic. "C-close, John... M-more... Rougher... Faster... G-give me your best..."

John's mouth trailed kisses down Sherlock's jaw to pay attention to his nipples once again, sucking and nipping greedily as he pounded harder, his free hand stroking Sherlock once more. He growled low in his chest, knowing full well Sherlock could feel the vibrations Sherlock moaned so loudly that he was sure Mrs. Hudson was completely aware of what they were doing. "YES! Oh! FUCK YES... JOHN... JAWWN... FUCKK. I love you... I... love ah!!!" Spasms of white thick fluid spurted from his manhood, in a larger amount than he had ever expelled, and Sherlock shook hard as he rode out his pleasure.

John never ceased, working Sherlock until there was nothing left and then driving himself home, Sherlock's clenching aiding him until he came. "SHERLOCK! OH... FuCKFUCK-GOD I LOVE YOU!"

As John came, Sherlock managed to wrap his legs around the doctor's hips, preventing the other from getting off. He always wanted to feel full like this, with John's cock snugly buried in his hole. "Am I... forgiven?" he teased. John collapsed onto Sherlock, trapped by the detective's powerful legs. Panting and laughing, he kissed Sherlock. "Of course you are. God, yes. I can't stay mad at you, never could. You know that."

It felt glorious, staying like this. They were damp with sweat and other bodily juices, and they were one. "Mycroft gave me a bonus when I solved the problem in Croatia last week. Want to buy a house?"

John gasped. "R-really? Sherlock, you know what that would mean..."

Sherlock smiled a bit. "Yes, John."

"We-we could have a family-kids..."

"Lots and lots of them, John," Sherlock continued, his smile widening. "I was even thinking of buying from Mycroft his share on our estate... the one I grew up at. I want to create better memories in it..."

"Live in your old house?"

Sherlock leaned up and pressed a kiss on John's nose. "If that's fine. We have a housekeeper in there, and a cook and a butler."

"I-I won't know what to do. I grew up in a small house. Mum took care of everything. Sherlock, what if I make an idiot of myself?"

Chuckling, Sherlock shook his head. "You won't, John. That's why we have them, so they can help us with the work in a, well...bigger house. You'll get used to it." A quick kiss on John's lips and Sherlock smiled. "There's a meadow and a pond nearby. The children will love it."

John felt tears again but happy ones this time. "And you- you'll be ok there? The memories won't get the better of you?"

He shook his head once again. "You'll be there with me. It will be perfect."

John kissed him. "Yes, it will."

"I don't know how to take care of children though... we'll sort it through."

"You'll be brilliant!" John was excited now. "It's not too difficult, and they'll be a part of us, so the touching thing shouldn't be as big of an issue for you as it might be, and they'll love you. God Sherlock, they might even love you more than I do, although I'll definitely give them a run for their money. And you can teach them to observe and deduce and go on adventures and play pirates-"

Sherlock was too elated to feel anything else. Their future would be wonderful, and even though there would be more arguments, which he was sure of happening, they would be solved easily anyway, what with John's compassion. Kissing John's lips so that he would stop for a moment, he smiled against their mouths. "A family of our own... beautiful, isn't it?"

"The very best." John kissed back, savoring the sweetness of the moment. "We'll be amazing."