To others, his life must lie somewhere between ludicrous and insane, and yes, at times it was chaos and dodging bullets and all too reminiscent of the battlefield. But, there were also halcyon moments, like this morning, he awoke to a steaming mug of tea and a nose full of shower dampened curls. For all of his erratic eccentricities, boredom induced tantrums and outrageous habits, John had discovered that Sherlock at rest needed nothing more than gentle arms and silence.
John sighed and wrapped his arms tighter around the man who had turned his life upside down and sideways, all for the better. "Mornin', love."
Sherlock yawned then pushed himself up to look at John. "It always amazes me to find you here. Day after day, you remain here. I've never asked because I'm a bit afraid of your answer, but..."
"Why? Why am I here?"
"Mmmm..." He nodded, looking down, not wanting to see what was in John's eyes.
"Hey...no, look at me, please?" John tenderly touched the younger man's face and took a deep breath.
Sherlock turned his eyes on him and his expression almost defeated him.
"I'm here because...love is an easy word to say, it's short and for some people it would be enough. I don't think it's what you are asking, is it?"
The detective shook his head, then nodded.
"When we found each other, I was angry, exhausted, and at the end of everything. Each and every day I got up simply because it was the only thing I could do. All I knew to do. Then you pulled me into your life, and you gave me back to me. I found the better parts of myself that I thought were gone, simply by having a purpose. Damn. I'm not saying this very well...."
"Go on," he whispered.
"You are a gift. I know you don't think that, you were always made to believe that you were odd, unlovable, not worthy, a freak. I get to see your passion, your frustrations, your absolute joy, and most of all, I, of everyone on this planet, have the honour of being loved by you. Even if I'm not sure I deserve it..."
"Oh, John..." He bent down and kissed him, with a sweetness that almost broke him.
"Sher-" He shivered as Sherlock's hand drifted below the sheets, and rested on his hip.
"I forgot, John. I forgot that we don't need words..."
They spent the rest of that rainy first day of spring simply holding on to each other, finding the answers they had been searching for in the other's eyes. It was enough, as it always had been.