Work Header

Love, Life, and Sherlock Holmes

Chapter Text

Dr. John Watson's secret blog, day 1

The reason eludes me, frustrates me, pains me till I can take no more... It's like being trapped in a box no one can see, like my agony is invisible to the world. Not that I blame them for their disregard of my ongoing torture, I have done well to hide it thus far, even the great Sherlock Holmes can not see what I am hiding. Which is why I'm telling you, I am baring all to you, stripping down my emotions, dissecting them for you to see... Of course all you are is a word document hidden away in the depths of my hard drive, but there is nothing I won't tell you of my day to day battle with my addiction.

Yes, I am an addict. Put simply; I live, breathe and will eventually die an addict. There is no cure for my addiction... Well, there is one, but even the thought of enduring it renders me hopeless, I can't quit, I won't quit!

I suppose, given you are my only confidant, I should tell you what I am addicted to.. After all, admitting it is the first step towards recovery. It burns through my veins like cocaine, it quickens my heart like heroine, it clouds my very judgement of who I am like a D.R.U.G... Yes, you've guessed it: love. Love overcomes me every day of my life, like no one could ever imagined. And who, you may be wondering, is the perpetrator of this feeling? Well that's where this becomes difficult.

From 15 years old I have dated approximately 12 women. I fondly remember Sally Jacobs and her vibrant red curls, and Rosie Charles with her relentless need to shout everything she said... Ok, so they weren't all perfect, but they made me happy, some for longer than others. But throughout the relationships and break-ups, I had not fallen in love. Shamefully, I had said, but never truly meant it. Which hadn't bothered me, because I was happy, some people don't feel that in a lifetime, so who am I to complain? Given my philosophy on the matter I never felt the need to dig deeper in to why I couldn't fall in love. But a year ago I realised, they weren't who I needed, wanted... Desired. A year ago my life changed forever.

My service was over, I had given all I could, I left Afghanistan scarred from what I had seen, but I always had in mind the the thrill of the danger I was leaving behind. But before I could embark on my life, no longer being a soldier, I had to find somewhere to live. I had been walking through the park minding my own business, when the voice of recognition called across the pathway "John, John Watson". An old friend, Mike, we chatted for a while when the topic of my residence came up, nothing heavy, just a general wondering. He had mentioned another friend of his that he wanted me to meet. So once we had finished our somewhat distasteful coffee we walked to a familiar old place where I spent much of my time as a young, heterosexual, student. St Barts hadn't changed all that much, that is of course until we walked into a gleaming white laboratory, every surface covered in instruments, unknown to myself, I walked around them carefully. It was at that point I saw what my eyes met with something my mind did not believe, a man, but not an ordinary one, he was... Beautiful, the word comes easily to me now, but at the time I couldn't understand why I was so drawn to him. He stood, tall and slender, his pale skin resembled that of the smoothest marble, one soft black curl, fell loosely over his deep ocean eyes. I was enchanted. A lot of what happened in that lab is hazy to me, I recall being overwhelmingly impressed by his unforgiving powers of deduction, but when I think of that day, all I know is that is when I realised...

I am in love with Sherlock Holmes.

Chapter Text

Day 2
So now you know, I slept slightly easier last night, knowing that I could confide in someone, well, someTHING. I breathe a sigh of relief each time I realise that I no longer have to be alone... But, it hasn't stopped now, my sad little story continues...

I met with Sherlock later that day outside small-ish building, a bright older woman answered the door, beaming to see Sherlock. I could tell from her kind yet stern face, she was of course my future landlord, the wonderful Mrs Hudson. I learnt many things that day, some of more value than others, she had owed Sherlock a favour since he ensured her husband's prosecution, she is NOT our housekeeper, and Mrs Hudson is accustomed to some herbal remedies, so to speak, to aid her hip.

221B left a lot to be desired, nothing quite matched, other than the faint grey tint of dust on practically every surface. The lighting of the living room didn't fit the time of day, then again, of all my time living here, it has always been just a little bit too dark. I settled myself into a slightly too old arm chair, just stealing as glance at Sherlock's razor sharp cheekbones. I had, of course, expected to discuss rent, sleeping arrangements and such, however before I had a chance to try and become part of Sherlock's life, I was pulled full-force in to it. I had been settled in that chair for all of 2 minutes before I was whisked up and into a crime scene. I was slightly baffled as to why Sherlock had brought me, but watching him work was simply stunning. He moved with such elegance around the poor woman, his brow furrowing slightly as he lifted her left hand and examined her jewellery, I tried hard not to stare, but it was impossible. I was hooked then, how he ran rings around Scotland yard was admirable, how he managed to solve the case, impeccable. That case, the first case, I never could forget it, it marked what became the rest of my life.

Of course, I didn't anticipate the sudden change back to a life centred around violence and hatred. But when I fired that shot, it wasn't out of fear-though it did hold a large portion of my reasoning- I felt the rush, of being in that fight or flight situation, and there was nothing I could do to stop myself indulging in the pure thrill of pulling that trigger. It is difficult to say why I felt so compelled to save Sherlock, I had known him no less than 24 hours, but there was will from within me that scorched Sherlock in to my mind, I knew I couldn't bare to be without him.

Over this past year I have examined bodies, caught murderers and been in papers at the side of Sherlock Holmes, much to my ever-growing happiness. There was no two ways about it, he was my partner, my professional partner. There is always a little sting when I think that he can't really be mine to love, but I accept that to stay close to him, I must work by his side. I had always hoped that I would fall out of love with him, but each time he mentioned my limited intellect, or snapped at me for talking it made me fall a little bit further.

I am unable to tell you every feeling I hold for Sherlock Holmes, as there are simply not enough words to use, however, from this day forward, I shall do my damnedest to pour out my heart out hope it will ease the pain of Sherlock's unintentional torture. Each day I will write, maybe just a word or two, maybe reams of self-pitying nonsense, but I shall write. I suppose my aims are to write away the feelings that envelope me daily, but until the moment comes when I am able to walk away from Mr Holmes with my heart back in my chest, you will be here; inanimate, secret and integral to my very survival.

Whatever direction my simple little life will take me, Sherlock shall be three paces ahead, and I will keep you at my side.

Chapter Text

Day 3 I have had to write now, my heart is racing and I need to calm down. More importantly I need to tell you what has just happened!

I had been to the shop, not five minutes down the road, to get milk. Which is generally not a terribly difficult task, not that Sherlock would know as he refuses to try it out, but all the same I went and just as I was counting out my change my phone bleeped... Twice, once was fine, but twice, twice meant Sherlock had texted. I slid up the screen on my battered phone, and the message was, moving up and down slightly, the words that shook me to my core:


Why Sherlock felt the need to sign off his texts intrigues me, but at the time I didn't ponder. I threw my change on the counter and left the milk behind as I pelted out of the shop, the short five minute walk had gotten longer as my need to help Sherlock pushed me forward. By the time I got to 221B my lungs were on fire and the breath left my throat harshly. I climbed the stairs, pushed open the door to find Sherlock, stunning as ever, leaned over his desk with head in his hands, his black curls cascaded in front of his face.

"Sherlock, what's wrong? What happened?" Despite my trying I couldn't hide the panic in my voice.

Sherlock's head darted up and his eyes locked on me. He looked, for want of a better word mad.. No, insane"Where WERE YOU?" Sherlock half yelled "I texted two minutes ago." He seemed, not angry, but impatient. I wasn't surprised, Sherlock never waited longer than 30 seconds for anything, which is why we had to have a long conversation after our trip to McDonalds because he could not accept it was indeed fast food!

"Sherlock, for Christ's sake, I ran from the shop. Now tell me what happened." The only way to disguise my love and worry was with anger.

"My computer has stopped working, I can't update my website." Sherlock's velvety tones could not cover what he had just said, sometimes I get angry with him, it doesn't stop me adoring him, but sometimes I get angry. This was one of those times. It wasn't so much that I had to run, it's that for those few minutes I was scared, and Sherlock knew I would be.

"Sherlock! I have told you time and time again to text me in EMERGENCIES-" Sherlock opened his mouth to interject "-No, this time I talk. Please do not try and tell me this was an emergency, the world can wait to find out the next type of tobacco you can identify. Do you realise what happens when you do this? I actually get scared Sherlock, scared. You are my friend, my very best friend, and I would not let anything happen to you that in my power I could stop. But you do make it hard to remain this loyal when you abuse it in the way you do. Now before you say anything, please be aware that I am NOT in the mood for you to deduce what I've said so you seem clever and I am left speechless, just please, for once, will you just be considerate." I was panting, it occurred to me only then that I hadn't taken in a breath since I started talking.

Sherlock looked at me and from his perfectly carved lips he uttered "It wasn't about tobacco."

I don't know what had happened but my raged burned and I couldn't control what I said "Am I a joke to you?" My voice was loud, I could hear Mrs Hudson calling from down the hall "Why do you need to patronise me in the way you do? It isn't fair Sherlock." Suddenly my yells were muffled by a crisp white shirt. It was then I realised my face was pressed against his firm, warm chest, he had hugged me. It was new, we had never hugged before, I liked it... A lot.

From just above my head I heard him whisper the words "I'm so sorry." His arms were wrapped round me, one under my left arm to my right shoulder and the other in my hair, his fingers rubbing the back of my head. It is unlikely Sherlock understood the intimacy of the situation, so I had no raised hopes of this happening again. But all the same, I clung to the in-the-moment joy of having Sherlock hug away my anger.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." I had tilted my head back to meet his gaze, my chin resting on the top of his sternum, he smiled and shook his head.

"Dr Watson you must never apologise to me again, unless of course you somehow endanger my life, or you grow a moustache." I chuckled lightly, not wanting to upset the harmonious balance of the closeness that I felt. I was suddenly very aware of his hand on the back of my head, moving softly. There we stood, for a full 7 seconds, looking in to each others eyes, I could have sworn the corner of his mouth twitched in to a smile. But then I felt it, what I never wanted to feel when I was close to Sherlock as I fear it may scare him off, I felt 'that feeling' beneath my trousers and I pulled away immediately.

"What's wrong?" Sherlock inquired, tilting his head in that most gorgeous, quizzical manner.

"Nothing... I- err... Need to go and publish my blog for the day, the counter is going up daily." I left swiftly, not looking back. I'd find time to kick myself later for messing that perfect moment up. But now I had a more, prominent issue.

I came back to my bedroom and sprawled across my bed in a, slightly over the top, dramatic fashion. So I thought, of anything but the closeness of Sherlock, and how secure I felt in his grasp. I thought about Rosie Charles shouting at me, I'm thinking about Anderson and his relentless stupidity, I'm thinking about the pink suitcase.



NO. I was helpless against my lust, I couldn't help myself. I thought of the heated embrace, how hard he made me feel when he pressed himself against me. I could not resist any more, I reached in to my jeans and thought about Sherlock, about what would have happened if I had leaned in that little bit further and his lips parted, his tongue running across his bottom lip, a clear sign that he wanted me too. I thought about the light touching of our lips, gradually becoming deeper. But before I could go any further my orgasm rippled through my body, holding on to this feeling my hand tightened on the side of my bed, as the words fell, ragged and whispered from my tongue "Sherlock."

That was over sooner than I had hoped...

I have done this on many occasions, thought about him, and me, together. More times than I cared to admit. I enjoy the feeling so immensely but it comes attached to unimaginable pain when I realise it is all in my head, he will never make me feel this way. I instantly feel so very alone in the world, like I'm the only person that's ever wanted something they can't have, so I turn to my computer, to you, for just a little mercy.

So this is where I am now, breathless, at my desk, trying to make the world stop turning, for the sake of all that is good, when can I just let go?

Chapter Text

Day 5

How someone so intelligent can be quite so stupid, I shall never know.

"Sherlock, you do realise that severed hands do not belong in the fridge." I pinched the bridge of my nose, giving the best 'clear up your shit' look.

"It's an experiment." Sherlock didn't look up from my laptop.

"Exactly what kind of experiment requires you to leave the left hands of four different people next to the milk?" It definitely wasn't the weirdest thing I have found, that was a few months ago when I went in to Sherlock's room and saw no less than 25 ears spread across old news paper on the floor.

"Well." Sherlock began, head still focused on the blue glow in front of him.

"You know what, never mind, just... Move them." I breathed out, loud enough for Sherlock to hear, to no avail.

"Yes, OK." Sherlock flapped his hand in the general direction of the kitchen "I'll do it in a minute."

I rolled my eyes, not that Sherlock could see, or care that I did. Sherlock's eyes went back to the screen, and remained there for several hours. I ended up removing the hands, much to my disgust.

God I love him. It's weird isn't it, I find the little things he does so intensely frustrating, but it doesn't stop me wanting him so very badly.

Chapter Text

Day 7

Baker Street has been quiet for a few days, Sherlock's been in and out his mind palace for hours over a case-according to him the pieces just don't fit together. So I hadn't seen Sherlock about much, other than when I quietly offer a light snack or a beverage and he booms:


I know he doesn't mean to be rude, so I let it slide... I just wish I didn't love it when he shouted at me, it makes him seem so, sexy! So to avoid the awkward trouser situation, I left him to his own devices, to decide how the victim was wearing light blue denim jeans, despite being an investment banker. Quite how the two were mutually exclusive, I had no idea.

However, it wasn't his silence that was odd- Sherlock often drifted in and out of reality when we were battling a particularly difficult case- but it was the event that followed immediately after that I found, unsettling.

I was typing up my blog on our most recent case, nothing special, even Anderson knew what had happened. When suddenly an overwhelming sound punched its way through the flat, forcing me to jump out of my skin.


The fierce beats pounded out of Sherlocks bedroom, I know I should leave him, but... Why?

I jogged to his bedroom and swung open the door, "Sherlock!" He was lying on his back on his bed, laptop on his chest, inches from his face.

"Oh good, you heard. Can I borrow your phone?" Nonchalant as ever.

"Really Sherlock." Giving him my disappointed teacher look. "And you couldn't have called? Why the music?"

Sherlock's eyebrows pinched together in response "I did call, you didn't answer, hence the music." He had looked up now, the back of his hair sticking up at odd angles.

"And when, prey tell, did you call me?" I knew exactly what he would say.

"A few hours ago." Of course.

"Sherlock, I was got back from the surgery about half an hour ago." Bless you, you're so sweet... Shut up John.

"If you do insist on giving me a lecture, can you please give me your phone first?" He held out his hand and drummed his fingers on his palm.

"I wasn't going to lecture you actually, I was-... Wait, why do you need my phone?" The question had only just dawned on me.

"Well, John, since you asked. As you may not be aware, I bought a new phone earlier today, to which my dearest brother does not know the number. I would like to keep it that way for as log as possible, it usually take him an hour or so , but until then, phone."

"There is no winning with you, is there?" I couldn't hide the smirk that crept up on my face.

"Not a chance" Sherlock said, winking his left eye an the inadvertently seductive manner and the corner of his mouth turned up in to a model-like smile.

"Right, just let me know when you want to have dinner. Chinese OK?" Sherlock's natural intuitiveness made it difficult to trick him in to anything, especially eating. But I have had plenty of practice.

"Not hungry."

Damn it.

"Come on Sherlock, you don't have to eat much, just so I know your, so called, 'vessel' will be well kept. I had to go for it... "For me?"

"Fine." I could hear the eye roll in his voice. But that's all I needed, and I turned to walk out the door with a nod.

As I turned I felt Sherlock's finger tips brush mine, just before his entire hand wrapped around mine. My breath caught in my throat and it was impossible to disguise the flush that rose up on my neck. "Sherlock?" I breathed.

"It's a date." Another wink.

Ok Watson boy, control yourself, he is clearly joking. Oh god, but what if he's not? Ok, settle for a half smile and a chuckle... What are you doing that looked like you were covering somthing up. Right, sway his hand lightly, wink back and reiterate. Job done.

"It's a date."

My voice is surprisingly even. Sherlock held his gaze for slightly too long, I didn't mind, I felt close to him. I wish I could read that man. Heart beating in my chest, I left. I haven't spoken to Sherlock since, except to arrange a time. It's nearing 17:00, I've been thinking about those 3 little words for 4 hours now.

Did he mean it?

Chapter Text

Day 8

It's 2 in the morning... I wasn't a date.

Chapter Text

Day 12

I haven't written in a few days, Sherlock has been sulking in his room , because the case of the investment banker was "not worth my time and expertise." Or something to that effect.

But, as it happens, I am at a moral cross road. I have a slight predicament, does a good friend tell you the truth because you deserve to know, or does he hide it from it should come from the man himself.

I got a phone call earlier today. "Lestrade?"

"Yeah, sorry mate, I'm outside." Greg's voice was battered by the wind "I just wondered if Sherlock was actually going to tell us who did it or if he's just going to sulk."

"Oh for fu-" I sighed "Right, sorry, I'll get him to file a case report and I'll bring it round."

"Thanks John, he just sort of, stormed off yesterday. Good job he has his wife to keep him in shape." Greg chuckled.

"I'm not gay." I blurted out, before I could stop myself "I mean, err, you know, we aren't like that." I did the best fake laugh that I could muster.

"I know mate, it was just a joke. But, who hasn't thought about Sherlock like that." My heart momentarily stopped.

"What? No, I haven't."

"Joke, again. Are you alright John? You seem more, well, on edge than usual. And considering you live with Sherlock Holmes, that is no easy task."

Well Greg, since you ask, I am completely and utterly head over heels with the sociopath that I live with. Just the very thought of him consumes me and I have no idea what to do about it. This isn't made easier by every employee at Scotland yard questioning my sexuality and you making casual jokes about the love of my life.

"No, I'm fine, just a bit early." Close enough.

"OK then, well drop the case info off at my place tonight, you know the address right?" The background whirring had stop, Greg had clearly gone inside.

"Yeah, got it. What time?"

"Any time before 6 would be great, I'll file it tomorrow. Thanks John." I heard the faint rumble of a man's voice, vaguely recognisable, perhaps Anderson had stopped by to give a completely useless opinion.

God, I sound like Sherlock.

"Um, yeah, bye." I was too busy thinking about what Lestrade had said to give him a polite goodbye, before I could apologise my phone beeped and Greg had hung up.

So now I was lumbered with the task of convincing a moody Sherlock Holmes to write a report that he believes himself to be too good for. Joy.

It took a good couple hours to convince Sherlock that even though he didn't see the worth of the case, law and order would strongly disagree. It later transpired that it was in fact the banker's son's girlfriend... Obviously? Apparently they had been having some kind of affair, which was evident from the three stamps found in his back pocket. It is things like this that make me not ask questions about why things mean what they do, and rather, just accept that Sherlock is right.

"Must you take the report tonight John?" Sherlock slumped back in to the sofa, in the most melodramatic way possible.

"Yes, Lestrade needs to put this through, because despite what you think, postage stamps are not a 'dead give away'" Sherlock rolled his eyes and his head lulled back.

"Please John, we can stay in an watch one of those god awful films that you love so much." His smirk widened to a full on grin, complete with a whimsical shake of his head.

"Fine! But I pick the film, you can't complain, give away the plot or turn it off half way through, deal?" Sherlock nodded, his flop of hair bouncing with the movement. Well, in for a penny... "And, you have to give me a foot rub." I gave him my best sultry wink and smiled.

"Deal." Yes.

We passed an hour, I blogged and Sherlock spent the majority of the time complaining and composing. It got to 19:00 and I went to the shelf in on the back of the living room and ran my fingers across the cases. I had bought three films last week that I hadn't gotten round to watching yet.

"Ahh, perfect!" I slid the case out of the row "Die Hard, man's film." Why am I overcompensating?

"Fine by me." Sherlock had clearly never heard of it before, or he'd deleted it.

"Excellent." I put the disc in the drive, the flat was silent, just the faint hum of the TV. Sherlock was sitting on the sofa, back against one arm, his knees drawn up to his chest.

"Come on then." Sherlock slapped his knees and beckoned me over "I hope you realise I have at my disposal a podiatrists explanation of the best way to give a foot rub."

"I expect nothing less." I flashed him a grin and sat myself down on the sofa. Sherlock had crossed his legs. I assumed the same position again the opposite arm of the sofa and stretched my legs out and rested my feet on Sherlock's lap, not too close.

"May I?" Sherlock pulled and the toe of my sock and I nodded.

"Not the best day to wear my golfing socks." I grinned.

"Golfing socks?" Sherlock's eyebrow cocked at the expression.

"Yeah, a hole-in-one." I gave him a crooked smile, Sherlock laughed more than I had imagined he would. It was in fact, adorable, so innocent. I giggled like a little girl when he put his index finder in the hole by my little toe an swirled it around.

"Right, shut up now, I am now going to take you in to new realms of pleasure." Don't say anything.

Sherlock pinched at the toe of my sock and slipped it off, slowly, almost seductively, and tossed it aside and did the same with the right. The DVD menu was frozen on screen.

"Sherlock shall I play the- Oh god, wow." Sherlock had started lightly kneading is thumb in to the arch of my foot, banishing all sane thoughts from my head. I felt the pressure increase and the muscle relax, I couldn't help but groan a little. He worked his thumbs up to the the solar plexus pressing lightly, moving them is small circles. "Jesus Sherlock that's..." Again my words were at a loss as he gently rolled each toe between his thumb and forefinger.

"Don't worry John you don't have to think about a thing." His voice was soft and soothing.

Easy for you to say, you're not the one getting a bit turned on by a foot rub.

I suddenly became aware of the noises that I was making, Sherlock's hands were amazing, it was hard not to think about what else he could use them for. There was no way back now, I rolled my head back, resting it on the sofa, letting the sounds just fall from my mouth.

As Sherlock worked his magic on both feet, 221B was filled with a chorus off ooh's and ahh's. And a few words that ought to make Mrs Hudson blush is she happened to be in ear shot. The whole situation has sounded incredibly sexual.

"Mmm Sherlock." I couldn't stop myself from saying it. I heard a quiet laugh from Sherlock that made my face get a little bit warmer, as I realised how that must have sounded.

Sherlock's thumbs started to slow down as he finished my right foot. From my days in Afghanistan I had damaged my feet, it was uncomfortable most days, particularly when I have been walking. Not today, it felt as if my ligaments had melted away, all tension was loose and the pain had gone.

I looked up to meet Sherlock's eyes, he had stopped, one hand holding my heel and the other slowly running his finger tips up and down my shin. The slight movement of the hair on them sent goose bumps over my body. It felt far too good. A smile raised naturally on my face.

"And how was that?" Sherlock asked, smugly.

"You know full well it was one of the best feelings I have ever experienced, including sex." It was Sherlock's turn to get embarrassed now, a pink tint rising on his cheeks, before shaking it off.

"Well, yes, I told you." He tapped his temple twice with one finger "My mind palace knows no bounds." He simpered, moving one hand back to my shin.

"So, shall we watch this film then?" I said, breaking the not uncomfortable silence.

"Sure, let's watch Bruce Willis run around sweating for two hours." Sherlock looked at me as if he had just said the most normal thing in the world.

"Sherlock, you know who Bruce Willis is?" I stared back, bemused.

"I know everything." Sherlock tapped his temple again, smiling "Mind palace." He winked.

"Shut up." I said, mock hitting him with my tatty sock. We were laughing for a few minutes, as we childishly attacked each other with cushions. "Oh bollocks, I forgot to tell Lestrade I couldn't make it tonight."

"One would imagine even Lestrade could have worked that one out by now."Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

I tapped out a text:

'Hey Greg, sorry I couldn't make it tonight, something came up, I'll stop by tomorrow.'

I coughed back my laughter at the double entendre.

"Shall we." He indicated to the remote control, sitting on the table beside him."

"By all means"

We watched the rest of the film in silence. Day 13 I hadn't noticed quite how tired I was until I woke up at 06:00 the next morning, my legs entangled with Sherlock's, stretched out across the sofa. Sherlock's buttons had come undone in the night, exposing his toned, pale frame. I had to take a moment.

I have just slept with Sherlock Holmes.

I composed myself and went to the kitchen. As I had spent most of yesterday trying to convince Sherlock to hand in a murderer, I hadn't had time to go shopping. So I flipped the kettle on and chucked two cheap tea bags in to two mugs. I walked back over to the sofa and gave Sherlock's shoulder a light squeeze.

"Morning Sleeping Beauty." I whispered as his eyes flickered to life "Sleep well?"

"Mmm, yeah, really well actually." Sherlock's eyes flew open as he looked down at his open shirt "We didn't, um, well you know..."


 "Yes, you gave me one of the best nights of my life, I can't believe I didn't know you were quite so well endowed." I couldn't help but let the grin cover my face.

"Oh, very funny." Sherlock buried his face in the cushion resting between his legs.

"Besides, why exactly would you have forgotten that?"

"Well, perhaps you were, forgettable." Sherlock winked.

"Touché." We smiled at each other for a few seconds before I handed him the piping hot mug. "Drink up." Sherlock rolled his eyes, but drank it anyway.

"What are you doing today?" Sherlock asked... He never asks.

"I'm going in to the surgery for a few hours, but I'm going to stop at Lestrade's first."

"Great, so i'll be here, on my own, bored out of my mind?" Sherlock smiled tightly.

"You're more than welcome to come with me to Lestrade's if you are that bothered." I drummed my fingers on my mug, waiting for the tea to cool.

"I can't imagine Gavin would want me there."


"Gavin Lestrade."

"It's Greg." How many times?

"Different name, same result. You go, I'll wait here, perhaps finish reading your blog." Sherlock was up and wandering around the living room now.

"You read my blog? Which post are you reading?" I hadn't realised Sherlock bothered with the blog, seeing as it's about him.

"A Study in Pink."


"That was over a year ago."

"I got bored."


I could see the conversation was over. I went upstairs to get dressed, by the time I had got back downstairs Sherlock was sitting at the kitchen table, hands dancing over the keyboard.

"Sherlock, I'm off out, I'll be back around four."

No reply.

"See you later then."


I decided to walk to Greg's, there were no taxi's to see of and the weather was surprisingly warm, for London. It wasn't too far, I was five minutes from Greg's house, so I tapped out a text to let him know:

'Morning Greg, going to drop off report before I go the surgery, be there in five.'

I got the the door, and knocked twice, I heard a clattering from behind the door, it swung open and there stood a slightly dishevelled Greg Lestrade. His shirt was open and half in his tight black pants. He looked a little too good if I'm honest.

"Um, John." Greg sounded breathless and surprised.

"Yeah, I just brought the case report, mind if I come in?" I tried my hardest not to look down and his incredibly toned abdomen.

"I, err, yeah, come in, give me a second." He stepped aside, opening the door wider, I nodded and stepped inside.

Greg ushered me in to his kitchen/living room. It was tasteful and modern. Contemporary art was hung on the dark grey walls.

"I'll be back in a second." Greg said and jogged off to a room just down the hallway, I saw him go in a close the door behind him.

It took a few minutes, Greg came back out of the room, that I assumed was his bedroom, dressed in black trousers and a crisp white shirt tucked in to his waste band.

"Right, sorry about that. Talk me through it." He said as he took the cardboard file from me.

"OK, so Sherlock said that-" I was cut off by the sound of movement from the bedroom down the hall, I turned to look at Greg from the corner of my eye "Oh DI Lestrade, what have you been doing?" I smiled and winked. Greg shifted in his seat and coughed in to his fist.

"Greg?" A voice called.

A man's voice.

I recognised the voice, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"John, I can explain, I just-"

He stopped as the handle of the bedroom door was pulled down and the door swung open.

"Greg dear, when will you be coming back to bed, I do have rather important business to attend." He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes flew open like a rabbit caught in head lights. 

It took so long for my words to catch up with my mouth, there he stood, in neat white boxer shorts and an open grey shirt:




Chapter Text

Day 13 (continued)

"John, I.. I don't know what to say." Mycroft stammered, flinching with every word. He had pulled his shirt round himself, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment.

"To be honest Mycroft we're in the same boat, I have no idea what to say." And I didn't.

"I can explain." Mycroft started. I had never seen him so, vulnerable.

"Oh, I think I get it." I had a million questions, I just didn't know which one to start with "Greg, your wife?" Seemed like a good place to start.

"We broke up three months ago, I didn't tell you because I assumed we would get back together. Then about a moth ago, Mycroft came round to talk to me about-" Lestrade was interrupted.

"Greg dear, I don't think this calls for the disclosure of MI5 operations, do you?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow and Lestrade shook his head.

"No, probably not, sorry." Greg cleared his throat before continuing "So Mycroft came to see me, and somehow, he knew."

"Knew what?" I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to know the answer.

"That I was lonely." Not as sinister as I thought. "But the thing is, I knew he was too." Mycroft opened his mouth to interject but Greg stopped him "No matter what he will say, we were both lonely that day."

"Ok, so you two are shagging now?" I hated the expression, but it was the only way to get to the point. But I saw something on Mycroft's face, a flicker of, not annoyance as per, but anger.

"If you must insist on using such vulgar terms, no, we are not just shagging." Mycoft shuddered with repulsion at the word. He walked over to Greg who had stiffened momentarily as Mycroft entwined their fingers together "But after that night." He continued "We saw each other four times in that week. Doctor Watson, what I am about to say must never be repeated, in context, outside of these four walls, I am a very powerful man and I expect you realise the position that puts you in. As I grew to know Greg more, it occurred to me that perhaps I wasn't as void of human emotion as I had first believed. I can say with all honesty John that Greg has changed my life." Greg's eyes lit up and he turned his head up to meet Mycroft's gaze.

The next few seconds of my life were the most surreal.

Mycroft's mouth turned up in one corned and he dipped his forehead to touch Greg's. Both smiles had widened to full beaming grins now. Mycroft rolled his head forward and their lips touched, held for a few seconds before they remembered my presence. 

"Right." Greg cleared his throat, flustered "Sorry about that."

"It's fine. So you aren't just sleeping together. Well Mycroft Holmes, you have been busy." I gave him a smirk that was bound to frustrate him. "Does Sherlock know?" The next question on my ever-growing list.

"Do you really believe in all honesty that my dearest brother has any aptitude for understanding deeper interpersonal relationships, other than the one he shares with yourself?" Mycroft said in his most condescending tone.

"Well, no, I suppose not. But even you must know he deserves to know. Does everyone at the yard know?"

"Are you insane John, with the position my Mycroft is in we can't have a group of second rate detectives running round talking about his sex life." 

My Mycroft?

"Though." Greg started again "Dovovan knows, she, erm, well she caught us in the alley behind."

"Greg dear!" Mycroft exclaimed "Is it not about time you offered our guest a drink?"

OUR guest? 

Greg went in to the second half of the room and filled the kettle up.

"Oh my, Mr Holmes, aren't we the naughty boy." I winked at him, his neck flushing in response. 

Mycroft strolled over to the chair directly to my left and sat down. He leaned in to my side and I met his stern eyes.

"Doctor Watson, it is neither your's or my brother's business what I get up to in the privacy of my own time, however I am aware that this could incur you to some moral issues as to who you should, or rather, shouldn't tell. But let me make it perfectly clear I shall tell Sherlock when and if I see fit. I would hate to think you would go behind my back and ruin my relationship with my dearest Greg." His voice was low and serious.

"If you feel that strongly about it then I won't tell him, but I think you should." We were whispering, not that Lestrade could here, he was making some exotic coffee with the machine on his counter top.

"I didn't want to have to bring this up, I was rather hoping you would deal with this in your own time. But I am not the only one who is keeping something from our dear Sherlock, am I?" Mycroft had turned his head to watch Greg now, his voice was stern.

I fought hard to swallow down the lump that had formed in my throat "Mycroft, I'm sure I don't know what-"

"Let's not beat around the bush Doctor Watson, you and I know you are in love with my brother, and you have been for quite some time." He remained composed and collected, my head darted up to Lestrade, who was still blissfully unaware of our conversation.

"Mycroft, how could you possible know that, I haven't told anyone, and I hide it very well." My leg is shaking, but I can't control it.

"You forget, I am not Sherlock, I am the smart one." Mycroft saw me roll my eyes and tutted. 

I pondered over the thought for a little while.

Jesus, so all this time he has known, what if he tells Sherlock. As much as I want Sherlock to know about Greg, I can't throw away my entire relationship with him.

"Fine, but please think about telling Sherlock." I stood up, leaning over him slightly.

"I advise you to do the same Doctor Watson, my brother can be full of surprises." What the hell do you mean by that? 

"Right, fine... Sorry Greg, I'll forget the coffee, need to get to the surgery. I wasn't expecting the, you know, delay." I pulled my jacket on and headed for the door, turning back as I reached the exit "I'm happy for you both."

"Thanks John, I'll file that report, I'm sure I can work it out." Greg said, extending his hand for me to shake.

"Yes, thankyou Doctor Watson, I'm sure I'll be seeing you in the near future, and what a veritable thrill it shall be, I am sure." We exchanged a tight smile before I nodded and walked out the door. I had a lot to think about. 

The surgery wasn't too busy, I had some time to think, too much time. Thoughts ran through my head faster than I could keep track of:

What do I say to Sherlock?

Is it wrong to keep this from him? Mycroft clearly had no intention of telling him any time soon.

But John, you can't really risk him telling Sherlock can you?

What did Mycroft mean "My brother can be  full of surprises."? Does he know something I don't?... Well, obviously, he is the British  government for crying out loud!

Deep breaths...

Would Sherlock want to know? Yes.

Would he want it to come from Mycroft? He wouldn't care.

Could he get hurt in the process?  Yes.

Could I? Definitely.

Stop being so stupid, you know you can't tell him, so stop trying to be the best friend he's ever had, and instead just do the right thing for everyone. Sherlock will find out eventually, and he won't even have to know you knew before.

So with that in mind, a days worth of wondering, I left the surgery in the late afternoon. I didn't want to have to face Sherlock right away so I stopped for a coffee in a cafe 5 minutes from the surgery. It didn't last nearly as long as I needed it to, but all the same I headed home, taking my time. When I reached 221B the door was slightly ajar and there was whit scuffs on the black paint, Mrs Hudson came out from her flat, eyes brimming with tears.

"Oh John, where have you been." There was no alarm in her voice, only sadness.

"Mrs Hudson, whatever is wrong?" I softened my voice but I spoke with some urgency.

"Oh nothing dear, I've just been watching 'The Boy in Striped Pajamas' ever such a good film, awfully sad though." She blotted the tears away with a white handkerchief that she pulled from her sleeve.

"Oh thank goodness, I thought something bad had happened. Off you pop inside and get a cup of tea, cures anything. Trust me, I'm the Doctor." I winked and jogged upstairs.

The door, again, open, white scuffs. Surely Mrs Hudson would have said something if she knew what was going on, I opened the door and the site that filled my eyes stopped me dead in my tracks.

Sherlock was stood in the centre of the living room, hands tied behind his back, black material wrapped round his neck, completely naked from head to toe. His eyes were wild with something I hadn't seen before, fear. 

"John." Sherlock called, breathless "I need you."


Chapter Text

Day 13 (continued... again) 

"Sherlock?" Was all I managed.

"John, please." Hi breath catching on every word. "Untie me, I can't uughhh." Sherlock winced as his wrists moved in the restraints.

"Yes, of course." 

We spent the next few minutes in silence, I plucked at the knots at the small of his back. There was three long, thin. horizontal bruises slashed on his back. I tried not to look, but I couldn't ignore the pale grace in the lines of his surprisingly muscular back. The pull of the restrains exposed his brawny shoulders, his skin was cool to the touch. My finger tips grazed the small of his back as I picked at the last loop. 

"Sherlock." My voice was quiet and slow "What happened." I said, gently rubbing the red raw areas of his wrists.

"I-I don't... I mean, I can't." Sherlock turned round to face me, his eyes locked on to mine "I don't know... The men, they-" his voice cracked and cupped the side of his face.

"Sherlock, don't worry, we won't do this now." I could see Sherlock was scared, beyond what I thought possible for a human. Right now he wasn't the man I had loved since the day I met him, he was my friend, and he needed me. "Come with me." I took his hand, he flinched at the movement, but nodded and followed me to his bedroom. I put my hands on his shoulders and steered him to sit on his bed "Sherlock, I don't want you to tell me anything, just nod or shake your head." He nodded in response "Do you remember everything?" he nodded.

I was in Sherlock's wardrobe now, trying to find something comfortable for him to wear, I was still very aware of him being entirely unclothed. 

"Did you know these men?" Much to my woe, Sherlock shook his head. "How many were there?" Sherlock raised his hands, and to my horror, extending seven long fingers. "Sherlock." I had to take a moment to brace myself for his answer "Sherlock, did they hurt you."

He nodded, slowly, with his hung in apparent shame, I couldn't bare to see him like this, so fragile. I brought over a dark green t-shirt and black sweat pants that I didn't know he owned. Sherlock tried to move, but it's almost as if he was too scared to. So I had to do what his only true friend would. 

I unfolded the t-shirt and rolled it up to the neck, Sherlock looked up, eyes red with tears. I pulled the t-shirt over his head and he extended his arms in to the sleeves, the flat was silent, no one needed to say anything.

Damn it, I forgot to pick up underwear.

I had to make do with what I had in front of me. I gave Sherlock my hand, he stood, grimacing in the pain, clearly in his back. I stepped back and flicked out the legs in his sweat pants, he rested his hands on my shoulders and stepped one leg in, my head slightly nudging hid stomach as he did. Once he had both legs in, I pulled up the waist band a slow enough to be gentle, but not so much so that I lingered. 

"Thankyou." Sherlock said, he sounded calmer than before, he had taken hold of my hand again. 

"You don't need to thank me Sherlock, that's what friends are for." It felt good to say it, for the first time in 18 months I wasn't caught up in my feelings towards Sherlock, I was focused on him, and what he needed... Which at that moment, was me.

We walked back through to the living room, still hand in hand. Sherlock settled on the sofa and I made tea, we didn't speak for a full ten minutes. I set the tea down on the table next to Sherlock, I needed to make him feel at ease, I could see the tension in his muscles through the t-shirt.

Ah, I know what I can do.

I sat on the opposite side of the sofa, legs crossed, facing Sherlock, same as last night. I tapped my knees, and without any further indication needed Sherlock stretched out his legs and rested his feet on my lap.

I tried my hardest to match the skill he showed last night, but I doubted my ability.

"Now Sherlock." I started "I need you to tell me what happened, I need to know as much as possible, but in your time. OK?"

Sherlock dip his head in agreement "Yeah, OK."

I started the same way he did, and put little pressure on his arch, and just listened.

"I was composing, and I heard someone knock at the door, I assumed Mrs Hudson would get it, or they would just leave, either way I didn't care." Good to see you're not completely gone. "But then I heard a noise, had I have realised they were breaking the lock on the door I would have done something to defend myself, but it didn't sound loud enough to be that. But then our door swung open, I don't know what they used, it looked like a crow bar but it was white."

That explains the marks on the doors.

Sherlock took a deep breath and continued "Seven of them filed in, dressed in dark jeans, white t-shirts and too small leather jackets, the cliché was laughable. If I hadn't have been quite so worried about the seven strange men in our flat, I may have cracked up then. Only one of them spoke the whole time they were here. An overweight, middle aged balding man. They stepped in and stood around me, one threw my violin aside and bound my hands behind my back." I looked over to the corner of the room to see the bow strewn across the floor and the violin upside down.

"Do you remember hearing any names Sherlock?" His eyes wandered off to the side.

"Yes I believe I do." He counted them off on his finger tips "The leader, his name was Paul, and there was Alan, Arthur, Tim, Eric, Patrick and Vincent."

Jesus could they be more obvious with the evil mob names?

"He said that their boss wasn't happy with me, apparently I had seen what  was right in front of me. His words were 'For the first time Mr Holmes, you had seen but not observed.' I can't possibly think of what he meant, I have had quite some time to think about it. But I just don't know."

"How long have you been like this?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"They came in about and hour after you left." I pang of guilt hit me like a slap in the face. I went to get coffee to avoid seeing Sherlock. I suddenly felt like the worst person on earth. Sherlock could see that in my eyes.

"John, this is in no way your fault." He reassured."Once he had finished talking nothing else was said, they stripped me down and took turns to throw punches."

"Sherlock, did any of them-" I faltered "Did they-" I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence.

"Rape me?" Sherlock said, the lines on his forehead showing as he did.

"Yes." I prepared myself for his next words.

"Mercifully, no. They just kept hitting, they were professionals, I could tell."

"How did you know?" I wasn't sure if it was OK for me to ask that question now, but I knew Sherlock would have an answer.

"They only hit me in areas where the tissue is soft, so my stomach, thighs. So they wouldn't be given away by bruising on their own knuckles, not a precaution that am amateur would take." I winced at the thought of them hurting Sherlock, it's unbearable to think about, let alone endure.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry but you're going to need to tell me where they hurt you and how." I didn't want to know, but I had to.

"Five of them sucker-punched my in my abdomen, and two others kicked me, here." Sherlock gestured to the blood shot bruise on the inside of his thigh, eye-wateringly close to his groin. "Then, with whatever they used to open the door, he hit my back, three times. No damage to the spinal column but there is sure to be minor damage to the skin." Sherlock's diction was beginning to deteriorate and his eyes filled with tears. 

"Sherlock, you can stop. We can tell Lestrade everything tomorrow, but first you need to go the hospital." He opened his mouth to protest "Just to check you are really OK, please do it for me." I leaned forward and put my hand on his knee.

"John, I'm fine, but if it's for you, then I'll do it." My heart melted at the words "Will you, come with me?" I couldn't help it but to smile.

"Of course I will."

It took about an hour to get Sherlock ready to go, and by the time we got to minor injuries unit it was 21:00 and we had a half an hour wait. The Doctor poked and prodded at Sherlock's bruises. Nothing came of the X-rays and we left at 23:00. I couldn't help but feel utter relief that he was physically OK.

Once we had got back to 221B Sherlock turned, my back was against the was against the wall and we were chest to chest. My breath caught when he spoke.

"Thankyou John." He leaned over and planted a kiss in the middle of my forehead. "Goodnight." His thumb brushed the back of my hand and he walked off to his bedroom.

There was nothing I could do now, I was exhausted, the combination of Mycroft and Sherlock today I could barely keep my eyes open. I was asleep as my head hit my pillow.

Day 16

It has been three days since that moment by the door, Sherlock hadn't done anything since, at all. He hadn't taken a case, or even looked at one. He hadn't complained about being bored. Nothing. He had flat out refused to talk to Lestrade about what happened

Until today, I was sitting on the sofa, thinking about how to try and get Sherlock back to being himself. When he came out of his room, dressed in black trousers and the most gorgeous purple shirt. 

"Morning." I said looking up from the paper.

"Good Morning John." He seemed to be OK "We need a case." Finally. We beamed at each other and I opened up my laptop.

I filed through e-mails from various people.

"Is my husband sleeping with-"


"I think my cat is stalking me."


"Oh they get weirder. Can you find my daughter's stuffed rabbit."

"Please John, don't insult me." He's back.

"Shall we go for breakfast? You haven't eaten properly in days."

"You'll never stop worrying about me, will you?"

"Never." I winked and got up to put my jacket on.

"John I need to say this, and I need you not to interrupt me." His voice was serious yet promising "When you helped me the other day I knew what I needed to do. I thought about it every hour since, the night we hugged, I felt so warm inside, not a feeling I am accustomed to. And I have to say, you are the very best friend I could ever have wished for."

"Sherlock what are you trying to say?" I was nervous.

"Well John, I-"...

Chapter Text

"Sherlock what are you trying to say?"

"Well John, I-" Sherlock phone beeped in his pocket, shattering my heart with each beep. He gestured to his phone.

"Yes of course take it." Oh for fuck's sake. Never has the phrase 'saved by the bell' been so inappropriate!

"Thankyou." Sherlock pressed a button and held his phone up to his ear "Hello."

Oh god, please be wrong number.

"Oh, hello Mycroft."


"We can deal with the pleasantries when one of us cares, until then, what do you want."

Jesus Mycroft, talk about timing.

"No, nothing happened... Do tell me why you feel the need to ask if you already know the answer... Seven of them... No I don't... I am more than capable of handling them on my own... No I won't let you help me... I know you are a very powerful man, but I have John, John has a gun. You, well you have a computer, given there imminent return I suspect one will be more helpful than the other... Yes I do" Sherlock listened for another minute and put the phone down.

"What did he say?" I can't deny I was worried about the response.

"Anthea will be here in ten minutes." Sherlock slumped in to the sofa arms folded across his chest.

"OK, so you were saying tha-"

"What does Mycroft insist on butting in. Doesn't he think we can handle this." Sherlock was being moody now, there was nothing I could do, except drop it. But God I wanted to finish that conversation. 

"You know Mycroft, just tell him what he wants to know. It's probably for the best."

"You're coming too." Sherlock said, sounding slightly smug.

"Why do I need to be there?" With more than a bit of agitation in my words.

"Because I wanted you there." Well, I feel awful now. "But if you don't want to that's-"

"No, no Sherlock, if you want me there, I will be there." Sherlock nodded and we headed outside to wait for the car. Ten minutes later, not a minute before, Anthea arrived, and as usual she didn't bother to engage in any form of conversation.

Mycroft was waiting for us when we arrived, sitting behind his too large mahogany desk, drumming his fingers on the stack of papers beside him.

"Brother dear, how wonderful of you to grace us with your presence." I often found the way Mycroft elongated his words oddly captivating.

"Out with it Mycroft we haven't got all day." Sherlock's fuse was short when it came to his brother.

"On the contrary, you will be here for quite some time. I have a lot of questions." Mycroft smiled, that smile her knew would infuriate Sherlock. It did.

I could see his temper flare and he walked up to the desk, slamming his hands down "Mycroft." Sherlock bellowed, he turned his head and stood bolt upright, he had noticed something.  He smiled, and through those perfectly formed lips of his her uttered the words "How's Lestrade?" He looked so monumentally proud of himself. Mycroft's eyes widened and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"What makes you think I keep tabs on DI Lestrade?" Mycroft cocked his eyebrow, trying to maintain his composure.

"Oh Mycroft, I do not doubt that you keep tabs on everyone John and I come in to contact with. However that is not what I am referring to, I am in fact referring to your relationship with Lestrade that has been carrying on for three, no four weeks now." Mycroft remained silent and Sherlock beamed.

Mycroft's thoughts were practically written across his face. He threw me a look with a promise of revenge. Oh god, please don't say anything

"And how could you possibly know this?" Mycroft looked skeptical, but he knew Sherlock could work it out.

"Don't insult my intelligence." Sherlock began "You don't believe in aroma therapy, so those candles are not here to calm you down, there is clearly something you are trying to hide, anyone can smell the Paco Robanne after shave lingering in the air, the only man I know of that wears that is Lestrade. Yes of course they sell more than just the one, however given that on your right sleeve is a white paint mark and Lestrade has recently, within the last two days, redecorated his bedroom, I'd say it's looking slightly more likely. So here's the kicker, behind me to my left is a mans black jacket, not your taste, but you do keep looking over to it, so it's important, it's an expensive jacket, but it has been repaired, so it doesn't belong to someone who spends that much money on anything that isn't necessary, reasonably paid job, needs to look respectable, Detective Inspector fits. How can I be sure it's his? Well I am a very observant man, I know his measurements. Oh yes, I'm also the smart one." The smug look on Sherlock's face was unmistakable, Mycroft's cheeks had turned a shameful shade of pink.

"And how can you be so sure that our relationship is not a professional one?" Mycroft said, trying to salvage the little dignity he had left.

"This is an easy one, I imagine John could get this. Mycroft I know you to be a very tidy man, and had you noticed this I imagine the threat would have been removed?"

"And what would that be." Mycroft said, nerves visible.

Sherlock bent over and picked something from the floor "Durex Mycroft." He flipped over the torn packet "Oh, and flavoured, how classy of you."

Mycroft opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"I thought so." Sherlock didn't even hide his complacent grin. He had purely don't that to get one over on Mycroft, I must confess, I enjoyed it, a lot.

"Yes, well, now that has been cleared up, can we carry on?" Nice try! 

"I have all the information you need, I wrote it up in the days following the incident, I think you will find it all very helpful." Sherlock handed over the papers in a card file.

"Sherlock, I don't think you realise the potential danger of what we are dealing with here. We don't know who this person is that's trying to get to you." Despite his best efforts, Mycroft cared.

"Yes, well, they can be no worse than Moriarty, who, by the way, is still lurking in the shadows." Sherlock had mentioned before that we still hadn't gotten rid of his threat, but not recently.

"How can you be so sure that this wasn't his workings?" Mycroft said, though if it had been, he would probably know.

"Have you ever danced with the devil himself? No. This isn't Moriarty's style, he's come to me directly, play games with me, make me perform on his stage." Anger flared in his voice, his exterior remained calm.

"Well when he decides to make his return, I shall not stand on ceremony, Moriarty is the most dangerous man in London, and I would go so far to say the world, we can not afford to distract ourselves with men that play games." Sherlock nodded in agreement. "Now we have that cleared up, you may leave, I shall have your notes looked over by a few agents. Until then, try not to get in to trouble."

"Always a pleasure Mycroft, come along John." I followed him out of the door and gave a courteous nod.

The ride back was silent as I expected, Sherlock sat in the seat in the middle, agitated. Once we got back to 221B I prepared myself for what needed to be said.

You've been to Afghanistan for Christ's sake, you can do this. How are you more scared of this than you when you were shot? It doesn't make any sense. You can finally crack your addiction, just, do it...


"Yes John." He spun on his heels as we walked through the door.

"I think we need to talk about what happened this morning." I took the deepest breath I could and readied myself.

"Oh yes, I'm terribly sorry, momentary lapse in judgement, it shan't happen again I assure you." I knew Sherlock, he was lying, but I couldn't bring myself to say it.

"But Sherlock, what if I want it to happen again?" Sherlock's face was unreadable again now, he shrugged.

"Well, I can't imagine any amount of talking will help. I can't do this John, it's not who I am, I don't know how to handle what I feel." I could see in his face there was no way of changing his mind.

"OK." Was all I could manage.

"Sometimes unspoken words are all you need John." He turned back and walked to his bedroom.

But what if they aren't?...

Chapter Text

Day 22

SIX DAYS! It has been six days since Sherlock told me he couldn't cope with his feelings for me, and now, we've slipped back in to our usual routine. We wake up, take a case, Sherlock doesn't eat, we go to sleep. There was no more slight touches, hugs or talking about anything but murder. It's like he has forgotten everything that happened, I can't bare to think that he may have deleted it.

But I had bigger problem, Irene Adler, The Woman. I couldn't let Mycroft tell Sherlock that she had got herself in to an American witness protection program, he lacked the compassion to do so delicately. I have no idea how Sherlock felt about her, as Mycroft said, what might we deduce of his heart?

"Sherlock." I just had to go for it.

"Yes John?" He called.

"I have news." Well that wasn't the right thing to say.

"Well?" Sherlock said, coming back in to the living room.

"The Woman, she got herself in to an American witness protection program, she is safe now. But Sherlock, you won't be able to see her again." Oh god, I feel awful.

"Really? That's interesting." I had no idea what to make of his reaction.

"Interesting?" I replied, trying to sound calm.

"You wouldn't lie to me John, would you?" Shit shit shit. How the hell did he find out about Karachi?

"No, of course not." I lied.

"Well then, she is safe, you aren't a liar, I am happy." Jesus I felt like crap about it. 

What kind of friend lies like that? 

"Sherlock, are you OK?" I softened my voice to sound as nonchalant as I could.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" I wish I could read Sherlock like he reads me.

"Well, the woman, you must have felt close to her." I bit my lip, maybe he would open up to me, just a little.

"Well John, whether or not I felt anything towards The Woman is no real factor of if I am OK. Because, as you have just told me, she is safe, correct?" Did Sherlock have to be so... Sherlock about it?

"What? Yes of course."

"Well then, I have nothing to be no OK about, so I guess we can assume I am." Sherlock gave me a tight smile and walked back to his bedroom.

I needed to pass the time, something told be things were not going to be OK, for quite some time now. So I rang the only person that might be able to cheer me up, purely for the fact he can dish the dirt on Mycroft Holmes. 

"Greg, hi." My phone crackled.

"Alright John, what's up, Mycroft told be about yesterday." Greg sounded calm and indoors, perfect time.

"Yeah, sorry about that, I was kind of hoping we could grab a coffee or something, I need to get out the flat." I was hopeful, I needed to do something.

"Yeah, sure. Meet me at the Starbucks on Southampton Row in half an hour. I think we should talk face to face anyway." I don't know what he meant by that.

"Sure, see you there, bye."

"Alright, bye."

I always hated conversations on the phone. I went outside and got a taxi straight away, I didn't bother telling Sherlock I was going, he'd talk to me if I was there or not. It would take me less than fifteen minutes to drive the two miles there, but I needed to get out. 

As I thought, I was waiting for fifteen minutes for Greg to arrive. I ordered us both Black coffee and took a seat, I had no time for pretentious coffee.

"Hi." I said, awkwardly waving one hand in the air.

"Alright?" Greg returned, we both knew what we had to talk about.

"Yeah, so... Mycroft eh." Seemed like a good place to start.

"Yeah, Mycroft listen John, I know I should have told you." He looked genuinely sorry.

"No, it was none of my business, I'm just sorry I, interrupted you as I did." I smiled, and we laughed for a little while, both slightly more at ease now.

"Well, you weren't strictly interrupting anything, Mycroft was still asleep, I was going to wake him up by-"

"OK, I am glad you two are happy, but spare me the details." I smiled and Greg's face flushed slightly pink.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Listen John, Mycroft told me about you and Sherlock." My anger hiked up.

"What exactly did he tell you?" I asked balling my hands in fists.

"Well, if we're going for full disclosure, he told me that you were in love with Sherlock, and he was in love with you, but you're both too stupid to do anything about it." Just those very words sent a shiver down my spine, that ended very close to my groin.

"He said what? I mean, yes I am in love with Sherlock, there is no point in denying that now, but Sherlock is... What?" How Lestrade had managed to turn my world upside down in a sentence I don't know.

"Oh shit, I thought you knew, Mycroft said you had spoken about it." Greg's face had lost all character.

"Well yes we did. However he told me he would tell Sherlock if I so much as eluded to the idea of you two being together. He never mentioned Sherlock." I couldn't help but to beam at the thought.

"Really John, you and I know the Holmes brothers are the most intelligent men on the planet, but it doesn't take them to see how Sherlock feels about you. Even if he doesn't know it himself." The little fire in me died a little.

"Well if he doesn't know it himself how can I expect him to tell me?" The thought saddened me.

"Time John, time." Care to elaborate? "All I'm saying is, Sherlock, for the smart guy he is, can be pretty stupid when it comes to the obvious. Give him time to store 'relationship knowledge' in his ruddy mind palace and maybe the pieces will fall in to place for him." Greg had made sense of everything, but I still had my doubts "And, not to rain on your parade or anything, but if you were to tell Sherlock how you feel, and he wasn't ready, it probably won't work out quite how you want it to."

I took a sip of my now cold coffee and recoiled at the taste. "Yuk do you want to make this something a little stronger?" 

"Oh god yeah, I am seeing Mycroft at eight, but I'm sure he can take a detour to the pub." I doubted it, but nodded anyway.

OK, so it was seven in the evening and we were both rather tipsy, not a proud moment, but It was pleasant.

"So!" I announced "What's it like sleeping with the most asexual man in Britain?" What was I thinking?

"Absolute." Greg hiccuped "Animal." He put his finger to his lips and whispered a shh and we burst out in childish giggles.

"Really? See we saw the preferred flavour on Mycroft's office floor, tut tut Detective Inspector Lestraaade." I have no idea why I extended it as I did.

"Yeah, Mikey likes it, apparently it doesn't taste right. I swear to god the man's never given head before, but he sure can." Reflecting on this now, it was definitely not a conversation I wanted to have.

"I bet, I mean, as much as Sherlock can piss you off with how much he talks, but what I wouldn't give to have that mouth round me." I am literally cringing at the thought of just saying it.

"Hell yes. Let's ring Mycroft." Greg decided, loudly, pulling his phone from his pocket.

"Yes, don't tell him I'm here." I sniggered and Lestrade joined in as he dialed.

"Hello baby." Surreal "Can you pick me up from The Princess Louis on High Holborn? John will need a lift too." I imagine Mycroft's reply was in regards to Greg's alcohol intake. "Nope, just a little." Greg smiled and put the phone down. "He'll be here soon."

"Great, we should go wait to outside." I paused "No, we should go outside to wait." I nodded and we stumbled to the door.

We stood outside for five minutes before the black car rolled up and we piled in to the back seat.

"Good evening Jo-" Mycroft was cut off by Greg smashing their lips together, I remember sitting, watching. Not in a way which one might see as creepy, it was just fascinating, Mycroft seemed to melt in to the kiss, his hand was wound round the back of Greg's head and I heard his breathing pick up before looking up and composing himself.

"Mikey, I feel sick." And to add to my fascination.

"Oh, Greg dear, I do hope that wasn't upon reflection of what we just did." Mycroft smiled in to Greg's hair.

"Nope." Greg replied, tracing his finger tip across Mycroft's bottom lip. "I think I had a little bit too much to drink." Greg moaned slightly, I realised Mycroft was lightly sucking the tip of his finger. Who the hell was this Mycroft? 

"Yes, maybe just a little." Mycroft said delicately. This was becoming the weirdest scenario I have ever been in. Greg was drunk, acting like a giddy school girl, Mycroft was half hard sitting next to him, and I was watching!

Greg curled up in to his lap and Mycroft rested his hand on the back of his head, moving his fingers slowly through his silver hair. It was odd to see, I assumed they were in an awkward sexual relationship, but from the way Mycroft looked at Greg, pure adoration, and how Greg clings to Mycroft's every word, they were in love. It was beautiful to behold, if not a little weird.

I stumbled up the stairs to 221B and jumped in through the door, in hindsite, being hammered and home by eight is one of those things I won't be telling anyone, but all the same. I walked over to the table and filed through the letters, nothing of interest for me, but there was a cardboard file, on it was written one word.

"Don't touch that." I heard from behind me. Sherlock stood, still in his suit.

"Ooh, OK." I said spinning to meet his gaze.

"You're drunk." Sherlock said, raising an eye brow.

"Yeah, so what. You just work on you little mind palace, because Greg was right, and you were wrong. I am going to bed." I smiled and headed off. I recall some frantic arm movement, somewhat uncoordinated I imagine.

"Wrong about what?" I knew he would want to know, typical Sherlock.

"Goodnight Sherlock." I called, not even trying to hide my obnoxious tone.

Day 23 

Holy shit, I woke up this morning, and physically cringed at my actions last night. But all my focus kept coming back to that file I saw last night in the flat. The thought rolled around in my head all day:

What on earth does Lazarus mean?...

Chapter Text

Sherlock Holmes: Secret blog, day 1

"I am in love with Sherlock Holmes."

"He can't really be mine to love."

"I was helpless against my lust."

"God I love him."

"Bless you, you're so sweet."

"It wasn't a date."

"Every employee at Scotland yard questioning my sexuality and you making casual jokes about the love of my life."

"I didn't want to face Sherlock right away."

"He needed me."

"God I wanted to finish that conversation."

"Even if he doesn't know it himself."

Stupid.... STUPID!

How can I have been so utterly blind to John, "Even the great Sherlock Holmes doesn't know what I am hiding." He was right, I didn't know anything. 


I don't even know where to begin. 

John's secret blog. I discovered it last night whilst John was drunk, he mumbled something about writing it while he was walking upstairs, so I did a little research, I never dreamed that not only did John love me, but to the point in which it physically hurt.


I shall take the blog as each day he has written and reflect, hopefully making something slightly more clear for me.

John was right, from the beginning, I didn't realise the intimacy of the hug, and I most certainly didn't realise the effect it would have on John. If this blog is to be fully truthful of my thoughts, I enjoyed the thought of John thinking about me like that. But I have never seen John in the same way, not that I don't find him attractive, I never doubted that John is, "my type" I just never felt the need or compulsion to do anything about it. I wouldn't know how.

So the hands in the fridge were an experiment... I regret nothing.

The moment my hand was wrapped round John's elbow, I felt a pull, something I had never experienced before, an urge to do something. Problem being I had no idea what that something was, which was an optimum time to regret deleting everything I know about interpersonal physical relationships. So I all I could muster was "It's a date." At the time I was very aware it was a joke, but now, knowing how John felt about what I said, I am simply overcome with guilt. 

John said he got a little turned on by the foot massage I gave him, how does one even react to that? Given that I had no intention of doing so, it's perplexing. But  enjoyed hearing those sounds coming from John's mouth, what does this mean?

As for Lestrade and Mycroft, I understand John not telling me, if anything I would have preferred him not to. I have never known Mycroft to indulge in any form of relationship that wasn't strictly professional,  so for Lestrade to be an exception speaks volumes. So despite what John may worry about, I would not blame him for keeping it from me.

The day those men came I have never felt so scared. This wasn't because I couldn't fight them off, though I scarcely believe I could, but it was because John wasn't there. Afterwards I didn't bother to analyse why John's absence made me feel so unsafe, to a point I didn't realise was possible. So upon his return I was so overcome with relief, all I could say was "John, I need you." And I did, not only to untie me, but to just be, there. So I had to do something to show what it meant to me, so I kissed him on the forehead, which triggered a reaction from me that I had not recognised me, I had to walk away to hide the blood rushing to my face, which again, I didn't bother to evaluate subsequently. Then the conversation on the morning I returned to myself usual self, I don't know if it should have happened, I do want John in my life, in fact, I want him to never leave me, but I was so relieved when my phone rang, because I simply did not have the words to tell him.

Mycroft, yes that was rather enjoyable, to see that egotistical arse be stunned in to silence. I would like to think that he will no longer call himself the smart one, however I won't hold my breath. What happened in Mycroft's office that day was mixed, I was happy for him and Lestrade, because in the years I have known Mycroft as a man he has never looked happy, but when I said Lestrade's name, without sounding like a complete moron, his eyes lit up, it was really quite something to behold. So the day was going fine, and Mycroft would find those men that intruded the flat. But then John brought up our conversation again, and it took all of me to not lie to him and just say what he wanted me to say. Because the truth is, I didn't know, I still don't, I have never had these feelings to contemplate before, I have no way of knowing how to deal with it, and so that's what I had to tell John. 

The image I painted in my head of John and Lestrade intoxicated was laughable, by eight in the evening they were home. I myself do not drink, but even I know that is not something one would want to admit to. Some of the things in this installment of John's, I did not want to, and indeed, need to see, but alas I did. Besides, I am not blind to the fact my brother and Lestrade would engage in some form of sexual activity. Oh John, what will I do?

For over eighteen months now I have ignored John and his every need. How could I have been so S.T.U.P.I.D? I so badly want to stop John's pain, but I can't tell him that I love him without knowing that I do. There is only one way I am able to ascertain what  I feel about John Watson, I shall experiment. It is how I have lived my life since I was seven. I shall have to ease myself in to this, each day I'll try something different, gradually increasing contact. If it doesn't help me decide, I don't know what I'll do. It has to work, it simply must. I can't allow John Watson to continue feeling as he does, I adore him too much, I need him too much. 

It all starts with a touch...

John Watson's secret blog, Day 23 (continued)

What on earth just happened?

I was in hangover recovery, reading the paper that I went to get earlier today when Sherlock brought me in a cup of tea. 

"Um, thankyou." It wasn't something Sherlock had ever done before.

"You're welcome, I thought you'd appreciate I nice hot cup of tea, no sugar, I remember." He was grinning from ear to ear.

Things couldn't have gotten any weirder, considering we hadn't spoken properly in a week. He walked past me and sat directly next to me on the sofa, my breath sharpened and I looked over, he wasn't smiling, he was just looking back. I couldn't help but notice the pink tint raising on his cheeks.

It was hard to contain myself, the back of Sherlock's hand was resting against mine, his little finger slowly grazing the back of it. Gently, he turned his hand and wound his fingers in to mine, we sat, holding hands, looking in to each others eyes.

"Sherlock, I-" Before I could finish Sherlock's finger was pushed against my lips, our faces were less than an inch apart now.

"Shh, not now." He whispered "Can we just, be together in this moment?" I blinked in response.

"Yes." My voice was hushed, speaking against his finger "Thankyou." Sherlock gradually moved his finger form my lips and lightly stroked my cheek.

"Thankyou, John Watson." Sherlock pressed his forehead to mine and breathed deeply, he lowered his head to my shoulder and moved in, there we sat, close, for hours. I begged myself to say the words:

I love you...  

Chapter Text

Doctor John Watson's secret blog Day 30

I haven't wrote in a few days, a client turned up with what appeared to be a nonsense story about Baskerville, the army base in Dartmoor. Sherlock had been so hung up on the case, and narcotics, that we hadn't had any time alone. But a week ago, when we spent the night holding hands together, it was one of the best nights of my life. I so badly want it to happen again, judging by Sherlock's reaction to "no double rooms" situation, he did too! 

"Sherlock." I said, as we carried our bags back in to 221B.

"Yes?" Sherlock span back on his heels and smiled.

"I, well I had a really nice time." I thought about what I had said and reconsidered "You know, other than the murder, drugging and explosions that occurred." I grinned, hoping my corrections were made in time.

"So did I, though I always do enjoy your company." Sherlock smiled that genuine smile that goes straight to my stomach.

We had decided to stay another night in Dartmoor, it was too late to drive back by the time Sherlock had finished exploring the hollow for how Frankland had managed it. It was all rather morbid, but the look of wonder on Sherlock's face was always a pleasant site.

"I'm glad you don't want to smoke anymore, one question though Sherlock." I quirked my eyebrow at the thought.

"Go ahead." Sherlock rolled his hand out in my direction.

"Are you ever going to explain why you harpooned a dead pig?" The flat was silent for thirty seconds, and Sherlock sighed.

"Seems obvious enough." He span back and walked away.

Well, that explains literally nothing.


Sherlock's secret blog, day 8

For the first time in my life, solving the case was not the most important thing in my head.

The H.O.U.N.D of Baskerville, a truly phenomenal case, it entailed turns that I didn't see until I was there in the thick of it. The adrenaline I felt when I saw the hound itself and when I had solved the case was unreal. So why was it at the back of my mind. Granted my mental capacity is unlike that of any average human, but I can't stop thinking about the night on the sofa, John just being there, so very close to him.

Experiment results: I strongly believed that I could conduct these tests impartially, but I simply can't. As soon as our hands touched it triggered a reaction in the pit of my stomach, it was an unsettling feeling, but a nice one. It made me feel nervous, excited and scared all at once, it took all of my will to not pull John in and kiss him right there. Oh god I want to feel his lips on mine, but does this mean love? 

I have no idea...

I need to talk to someone about this, but I am limited in my options of people who will talk to me.

-Mycroft, granted he's just begun a relationship with Lestrade, but he's hardly an expert.

-Lestrade, I want to avoid hearing the details of his sordid affairs.

-Donovan, Would just laugh, I try not to let it effect me, but I don't like it when she calls me freak.

-Anderson, well if I wanted a moron's opinion I would consult internet forums. 

-Molly Hooper, Perfect!

If there was one person to talk about love, it was Molly.

"John." I gave him three seconds "John."

"Sherlock?" He called form elsewhere in the flat.

"I'm going to Saint Barts, I'll be back in an hour or so. I'll pick up milk." His head popped out from the door, gorgeous as ever.

"Sherlock, are you feeling alright." John cocked one eyebrow in a perfectly quizzical manner.

"Yes, why wouldn't I be." I gave John my best smile, unlike most people, I don't have to fake it with John.

"No, nothing." He paused "Do you even know where to buy milk?" Oh John, you are funny sometimes, having said that, I may have deleted that.

"I'm sure I'll work it out." I winked and went with my instinct, I closed the gap between us and lightly pushed my lips against his temple, awarding me with a quiet whimper from John and a charming flush on his cheeks. I turned and walked out to door to hide the blood that rushed to my face, and to cover my slight arousal.

As per usual I was able to summon a cab within a few minutes. The ride to St Barts was slow, I believe it was in anticipation, I was after all going to find out if I am in love, if Molly could be of any help. 

She was in the morgue when I arrived, to my advantage she was on a break. I always admired Molly Hooper, for her optimism, especially since she has seen more death that most people could stand. People think she doesn't matter, but she does, she has always mattered. I know, when I need her in the future, she will be there.

"Molly, hello." I appear to have startled her, her shoulders jolted at the words and she spilled a little of her tea on her lap.

"Oh bugger." She turned to look at me, and immediately perked up. "Oh Sherlock, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there." 

"My apologies Molly, but I require your assistance." I smiled tightly.

"Yes, of course Sherlock. Name? Age? Weight?" She had grabbed a pen.

"What do you mean?" I knew but I had to force myself to be polite.

"The cadaver."

"Oh no, I need you Molly." Damn, bad wording. I saw the sparkle in her eye, I immediately felt a pang of guilt.

"Of course, anything." I had done it now, this may have been a mistake

"Molly, you are in love with me correct?" I remained my composure. Her mouth fell open, no words came out for a full two minutes.

"Sherlock, I, well I." I waited for her to continue, I saw the denial leave her face "Yes, I do." she sounded almost shameful of it.

"Wonderful, how does it make you feel." Her jaw dropped again, leaned over and picked it up with the knuckle of my index finger, her embarrassment was evident "I mean, how do you know you're in love with me." If John was here he would tell me if that was not good.

"Is this a trick?" She tilted her head to the side incredulously.

"Please Molly, just tell me." I sat on the stool opposite and rested my head on my entwined fingers.

"Fine." She sighed "It took me all of an hour to fall for you, initially it was with your mind, but your personality grew on my soon after." 

"Yes, but how do you know, how did you actually feel?" My hands were grabbing the air in front of me in some display of desperation, Molly pursed her lips and continued.

"Well, every time I see you, I get this feeling in my stomach, like a knotting sensation, it makes me go light headed. Sometimes when you touch me accidentally my heart skips, however much of a bad cliche that may be, it does. I find myself captivated by you, often when working, but occasionally it's the way you look at John, however much I want you to look at me like that, I do love it when you're happy. But the thing that  makes me certain that I love you is the pain. Because every time you say something mean or you say nothing at all, I know you will never be mine to have, and these feelings will never be reciprocated. This only made worse by knowing I won't get over you, which makes it even harder to move on, especially since I hold every man comparable to you. Then you do something, kind, pay me a compliment, or hold open the door, I forget everything I know and fall so much harder, even though I know you do it to get me to do things for you."

"Molly I-" I stammered, how could I have been so careless?

"No, Sherlock, it's fine, it's really fine." Molly's eyes had filled with tears and her gaze had steered to the distance.

"Molly Hooper, I am so very sorry." I took her hands in mine and looked her in the eye "You deserve the very best, and you will get it some day." I wiped the single tear form her cheek and smiled "You must know, I am not the very best of humanity, I am close to the very worst. I can never give you what you want, and that saddens me. But mark my words, there is someone out there for you, who is charming and handsome, and not a sociopath, he will love you and you will be happy. I promise, you will be happy." I cupped her face and smiled. Emotion is not something is not something I am accustomed to, but the words felt right. Molly pushed the tears off her face with a swift brush with her hands.

"Thankyou." She whispered, a smile rose on her face, I believe she had started to move forward "But why did you want to know?" Damn it.

"Can I trust you?" I already knew the answer.

"I just confessed my undying love to you, I think we're past trust." She laughed and sat back up in her seat.

"Yes, quite right. See I have come to realise in the past week that John is in love with me-" I was stopped by a coughed back giggle from Molly.

"Really Sherlock, funny that." I do like that she can make jokes now.

"Oh, you knew too?" 

She nodded "Sorry, Greg told me. Though it was fairly obvious. When you're not looking he watches you, patiently. But when he's not looking at you, you are looking at him."

"Well that is why I am here, see I have only just become aware of some feelings I have for John, and I needed to know what it was like to be in love, to see if I am." I was yet again delayed by Molly's snicker. "What now?"

"I can't tell you how you would feel Sherlock. It's different for everyone, for some it is unconditional, and so can be painful. For others, often when the feeling is returned, love is the best feeling in the world, and you're on cloud nine." Molly was still smiling, here eyes slightly red from the tears.

"Oh."I hadn't realised "So, how will I know?" I so wished that she had an answer.

"You will Sherlock, you might already be, but there will be a moment, and you will know." I had to ask.

"What was your 'moment' with me?" 

"You said hello." A smile raised on her thin lips and we laughed for a moment.

This entire exchange had been frankly useless. I learned nothing I intended to, but a lot that I didn't. I told Molly I had to get back and she was polite, I knew it wasn't going to be easy for her, but Molly Hooper, what an incredible woman.

When I got back to 221B John was sat tryping on his computer, I couldn't help but to wonder if it was about me. He looked utterly glorious in the dim light of the flat against the blue glow of his screen. 

"How'd it go with Molly?" 

Time for experiment 2...


John Watson's secret blog, day 31

I had began to type up more on yesterdays events when Sherlock got home from St Barts, he came home earlier than I expected. He had a look in his eye when he walked through the door, something I hadn't seen before.

"How'd it go with Molly?" I asked.

I had gotten a text from Sherlock shortly after he left simply saying:

'Got to talk to Molly, can you get milk?' 

To which I did not reply.

"Yes, all fine, got all the information I needed." Sherlock nodded and something changed on his face again "John, a week ago, when we held hands. I must say that was, not one of the worst experiences of my life." I smiled, accidentally.

"And another way of saying that would be?" I trailed off the end and circled my hand.

"I, rather enjoyed it. Being close to you that is." The evidence of my happiness showed on my neck as it went ever so slightly red.

"As did I, we should do it again sometime." Which was far more formal than I had wanted it to be.

"How about now?" Sherlock said casually, I was quite taken aback by it, but nodded my head "Excellent, stand up." I didn't ask and complied.

Sherlock, to my surprise, sat on the sofa and sung his legs up to lay out full length, he patted the the area in front of him and I took it to mean I should sit down. We were close now, no one spoke again. Sherlock chuckled lightly, he slipped his hand on to my thigh and and pulled my leg back to the cushions. Sherlock was now lying with his back against the sofa and I was lying on the edge nearly falling off. He noticed and wrapped a long arm around my waist, pulling me close in to him, my back was flat against his chest. Sherlock moved his head in and nuzzled against my neck, breathing deeply, this sent a wave of shivers down my back, targeted directly to my groin. I tried to ignore it, but Sherlock was hard, I wasn't far behind him. But this wasn't what this was about, this was about the closeness we both wanted to feel. The hours flew by, the only feeling I ever needed in the word was Sherlock's warm body near mine, with the electric contrast of he cool breath along my jaw. It was six in the evening and we had been there for four hours. I didn't want to disturb but I was starting to get hungry. Sherlock had fallen asleep about an hour ago, I can't imagine the last time he had slept properly. I picked myself off the sofa, trying not to wake him. As I moved away his hand caught my elbow.

"Where are you going." Oh god, Sherlock's hair was matted, he was squinting against the light of the lamp and his voice was coarse from the nap. It was undeniably hot.

"I'm just going to make something to eat." He tugged at my elbow and I sat on the edge of the sofa, running my fingers thought his curls.

"Stay with me." His voice still rough. God.

I leaned over and brushed a kiss lightly on his cheek, which earned me a utterly stunning half smile, I had to admit, half-asleep Sherlock was really quite beautiful.

"Forever." I got up and walked to the kitchen. I know Sherlock meant that moment, but I truly did mean, I will stay with him.


Chapter Text

Sherlock's secret blog, day 11

John and I have spent the past three nights lying on the sofa together, which I enjoyed, immensely. My hunger for John was growing though, I needed something more. I had taken to kissing him on the forehead as often as the situation would allow me, it isn't enough. I need something that will satisfy my craving, but at the same time keep me from kissing him, for the moment.

John came home from the surgery, angry.

"What's wrong?" I sounded concerned, but not too much so that he would find it out of character.

"Fucking idiots on bikes." Why was John so compelling when he was angry? He had torn his coat off to reveal a coffee stain down the length of his pale pink shirt. "Stupid cyclist ran in to me on the fucking path and knocked me off my feet." John dumped down the rest of his things and sighed loudly.

"Are you OK?"

"Do I look fucking OK?"

Time for experiment 3...


John Watson's secret blog, day 32

Who the hell rides a bike ON THE PATH, in fucking London. I got back to the flat and I tried to be calm but it didn't work out too well.

"Do I look fucking OK?" I immediately regretted it. I rolled up my black trousers to check the cut on my leg and Sherlock stood up instantly, eyes wide. I didn't realise why until I looked down to see the cut had stretched from my knee, down my shin to the top of my ankle, the blood had drawn in thin streams down it's length. 

"John." Was all he said, he rushed up to me, dropped to his knees and grabbed my calf with both hands.

"Sherlock, it's fine honestly-"

"Let me help." Sherlock looked up at me, his ocean deep eyes staring up at me. I nodded slowly. "Right, take your trousers off and sit on the chair." I opened my mouth to protest but it occurred to me, I might quite enjoy this.

I walked over to the chair carefully and moved my hands to the center of my waist band. Sherlock had previously been fishing the first aid box from the top cupboard in the kitchen, but now his eyes were locked on me, tracing every inch of my body. I undid the first button and I saw Sherlock bite his bottom lip, he was definitely enjoying this. I teasingly unzipped them and let them fall to the floor, I hadn't let Sherlock know yet that I had seen him, but I met his eye line.

"Alright Sherlock?" His movements went frantic to look away, he coughed to hide his embarrassment.

"Yes, yes of course, sit down." I was attentive to the fact Sherlock was now kneeling in front of me while I was wearing a shirt and boxer shorts, a good pair, thank God.

We sat for a moment, before Sherlock wiped the wound with an antiseptic wipe, I hissed at the stinging pain and Sherlock hushed me lightly. The burn of the antiseptic lasted for too long and I grasped the side of the chair, trying to hide my winces. Once he had finished dabbing the cut he drew one finger through an unknown cream and ran it down the length of my shin, it was cool and soothing to the touch, I exhaled a little to loudly. I heard the smile raise in Sherlock's breathing.

"Better?" Sherlock said quietly.


Sherlock unrolled a bandage from the box of medical supplies and wrapped it round my leg, his hand smoothing it down as he did. It felt good, very good.

"There." Sherlock said, I looked down but he was studying his handy work. His eyes flickered up to mine and leaned in, delicately placing a kiss on the bare part of my knee, we smiled at each other and Sherlock kissed again, slightly lower. And again, almost on the bandage now, gradually he worked soft kisses down the length of my laceration. 

"Thankyou." I managed.

"Anytime." Sherlock grinned and began to push himself up from the floor, in my direction. His phone beeped in his pocket, and mine. It was Lestrade. "Wonderful timing." I rolledmy eyes and saw the text. We looked at each other an smiled. "The game is on." I love it when he says that.

I pulled my trousers back on and I pulled on a new shirt, by the time I was downstairs Sherlock had 'the coat' on and we left to get a taxi. Lestrade had followed up with an address, when we arrived there was crime scene tape and half a dozen police cars, surrounding a derelict building.

"Want to have some fun." Sherlock opened his eyes a little more and raised his eyebrows.

"Always." I wasn't sure what to expect, then Sherlock slipped his hand in to mine. I stiffened slightly, but relaxed in to him as we approached the tape. Sally Donovan stood in front of us, eyes rich with the scandal.

"You two finally together then freak?" I felt Sherlock's grip tighten at her words.

"No, but since you mention it, we do make a lovely couple don't we." I could hear the snide tone in his voice.

"Just go in freak, an try to pry yourself from him long enough to find out what's happening." Sally plastered on an acerbic smile.

"Why, can't you do your job properly?" Her face dropped and we ducked under the tape.

Lestrade greeted us with a inquisitive head tilt, we smiled as he directed us to the body, still hand in hand.

"Can you two drop it and pay attention." Anderson's nasal voice appeared behind us.

"Jealous?" Sherlock winked and let go of my hand, I can't say I wasn't disappointed. 

The body of a young Chinese woman lay in front of us, sprawled across the concrete, she was wearing black trousers and a short sleeve white blouse. The bruises on her neck were dark and black.

"She was strangled." Anderson again "By a woman, look at the size of the hands."

"Anderson shut up, if you insist on being wrong please do it in the company of Donovan who may be slightly interested." Sherlock examined the neck of the woman and stood back up "John, if you'd care to see" I knelt down and saw nothing that would help him anymore "Right, Anderson, if you insist on staying listen carefully. She wasn't killed by a woman, it was a man. Look at the print of the ring." I saw faintly the symbols I couldn't make out "Soon-Tek Oh, male name, and look at the pattern, worn by all operatives of the Chinese MSS, this was a government job. Now why would they need her?" Sherlock snapped his fingers and turned over the woman's wrist. "This tattoo is commonly seen on female convicts, she's a fugitive. Why are the Chinese sending agents to kill fugitives, if she was anyone dangerous we would have been warned." I looked at the tattoo and ran my finger over it, to my bewilderment it smudged.

"Sherlock." His eyes darted to me.

"Yes John." His eyes focused on the upturned wrist and he squinted. "Oh, of course." He clapped is hands together and span on the spot "This can't be the work of a secret services killer, it's far too... Messy, he was an intelligence agent. But look at her, she wasn't a fugitive at all, she'd been hired to find someone, most likely the same man that killed her." Sherlock looked at me, and I could almost hear the penny drop "Oh, that's new. Right, rogue Chinese agent, young woman hired to stage as a convict, in some way they were going to catch him out." Sherlock looked puzzled again "But if this was happening on British soil they would have issued some form of warning, it's protocol... Oh wait, of course, Lestrade you are about to get a call from my brother telling you and your men to leave. This wasn't a Chinese operation at all, she was hired by the British government, they wanted Soon-Tek Oh, for whatever the reason may be." Sure enough, not a minute later Lestrade's phone rang.

"Mycroft." I imagine, by the look on Greg's face that Sherlock was entirely correct. "What do I tell the yard?... Well... F-fine... If I have to do it then whatever." Greg winced at his own frustrated tone "I know, I'm sorry." Greg turned away "Yes, I love you too." He whispered in to his phone. He put the phone down and turned around "Right, no one touch anything else, this is above our heads now."

"Knew it." Sherlock grinned at Anderson who rolled his eyes and looked across to Donovan "Don't worry, she'll sleep with you tonight. In fact she has a condom in her pocket." Anderson did his level best to look annoyed but everyone could see the smirk rising on his face, he coughed and walked over to her.

"Right, well that was interesting, Greg, how's Mikey?" I winked and Greg's face repelled slightly.

"Oh god don't." I could hear the regret seeping in to his voice "Besides haven't you two go things to do?"

"Why yes we have, but not before we hear your plans with my brother for tonight." Sherlock interjected.

"How do you know I have plans? Actually never mind. Mycroft and I are going to dinner and I shall be staying at his abode this evening, not that this is any of your business." Lestrade was smiling underneath his annoyance.

"Well we best be off." I said and nodded to Sherlock, who instinctively pulled my hand back in to his.

"Yes, good evening Lestrade." Greg nodded and gave us a canny smirk.

I loved the feeling of Sherlock's hand in mine, it was soft and warm, he always retained a snug squeeze on mine and it felt so right for it to be there. We walked across the street and passed Donovan and Anderson who stopped to gape.

"Good luck John, hope he isn't too psychotic in the bedroom too." Sally said, I guess she thought she was funny, she was wrong. I couldn't help myself.

"Oh, I suspect you'll hear us at any rate. I won't hold my breath for a decent come back because we all know you won't be getting that from Anderson here will you?" They were stunned in to silence and we walked away.

We sat in the back of the cab, still holding hands, in silence, until Sherlock broke it.

"Why did you say that?" I knew what he was referring to.

"Because Sherlock, Sally Donovan is a bitch and deserved it, she already thinks we're sleeping together, so why not use it to our advantage?" Sherlock considered and gave a courteous nod.

"Maybe we'll find out if you're right one day." My heart plummeted at the very words, I swallowed the lump in my throat at bobbed my head. I had nothing to say to that, so we remained in silence.

Once we got back to the flat we still hadn't said a word, but Sherlock turned to face me one I shut the door behind us. He moved towards me silently and pushed me back against the wall. He put his hands up either side of my head and leaned in, our bodies pressed together and Sherlock was breathing deeply.

He pushed his lips against my forehead... FOREHEAD, AGAIN! But this was slightly different, his lips remained there, gaining pressure, like he was trying not to do something else, I hoped. All thoughts were lost in my head as Sherlock moved his hips upwards, causing some unbelievably hot friction through my trousers against my groin, I could feel Sherlock's erection against me, he pushed up again and he moaned softly, then pulled away too quickly.

"I'm sorry." He said, breathless, his face centimeters from my own. I went for it and moved my head in to kiss him, but he flinched back and I felt my heart sink "No, John, not yet."

I didn't understand why, but the promise of "yet" was enough for me.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have tr-" I was silenced by Sherlock's index finger pushed to my lips.

"It's fine."

I didn't know if it was wrong to do so, but I took a leaf from the book of Mycroft Holmes. I took the tip of Sherlock's finger in to my mouth and sucked it gently, circling my tongue around it. Sherlock whimpered at the heat and bit his lip. 

"God I want you." Sherlock said, my eyes must have gone wild with the words, Sherlock appear to shun himself "I'm sorry, again, not yet." YET! 

I looked back at Sherlock and we smiled, he drew his finger out of my mouth and popped another quick kiss on my cheek.

"Fancy another night on the sofa?" I said hopefully. 

"Nothing would please me more John Watson."

We assumed our positions again and I fell asleep like it, I woke up in the early hours of the morning to feel Sherlock against me, the safest feeling in the world. My mind was almost fuzzy with Sherlock's words last night, they were resonating in my head:

I want you...

Chapter Text

John Watson's secret blog, Day 35

Sherlock had been away the past two days, reluctantly dealing with the Chinese agent. It had gone eight by the time I got back from having dinner with Mike and some other lads from St Barts, but I knew he was back because all the curtains were drawn and Mrs Hudson has been staying with a relative for the past week. 

I thought it would be a great idea to surprise him, jeez was I wrong.

I walked in and there was no sign of Sherlock in the living room area, but I heard a clatter from the kitchen and I walked in, suddenly Sherlock emerged wielding a tray of beakers, filled with a clear liquid, clearly an experiment. But Sherlock hadn't stopped in time and the tray tipped forward, soaking me from shoulders to knees in the unknown liquid. 

"Jesus Sherlock." I shouted, not intentionally.

"John, I'm so sorry." Sherlock looked worried, his hands shot to my shirt and began unbuttoning it rapidly.

"Wha- Sherlock what are you doing." I was waving my arms in the air manically as Sherlock got to the fourth button.

"Acid John, weak but you need to get these off now." There was panic in his voice as he discarded the last few buttons and just tore them open and threw my shirt to the ground, now was not the time to worry about the cost. I kicked my shoes off as soon as Sherlock moved to my trousers and pulled off my belt. I held my breath as he pushed my trousers down with the flat of his hand, the friction was, so close to where I wanted it.

"Woah-ah Sherlock, not those."

"Now isn't the time to be coy John, get them off." I had no choice but to obey and slipped off my underwear, I stood for a moment, not moving, naked, in front of Sherlock. He yanked at my hand and he rand me upstairs.

"Shower, get in it , now!" He boomed, the dominating tone in his voice was going straight to my crotch.

"I can do this on my own." I said, not that I wanted him to leave.

"No, I need to get the acid off of you and check for burns." There was nothing for me to say, as I saw the tightening in Sherlock's trousers.

Sherlock wrenched the shower on and shoved me back in to it, the shower itself was small, but the doors were drawn back and Sherlock leaned in to it, grabbing the shower head. I can not be certain the events that followed actually happened or if it was just a cruel dream.

Sherlock pointed the shower at my chest and began to rub his hand over it frantically.

"Sherlock, it's fine, we both know if I got anything on me it would be visible by now.

"Yes, indeed." Sherlock choked out eventually "Turn around, let me check your back." I can't say I wasn't self-conscious, but I turned quickly. 

Sherlock had seen there was no burns, but I felt his palm between my shoulder blades, it trailed down, tortuously slowly, his finger tips grazing off at the small of my back, I could feel the goose bumps raising over my skin.

"You can turn around now John." Sherlock spoke slowly, almost cautiously. 

I had no way of hiding my erection, so I turned back. Sherlock looked down, his eyes flew open, not in shock, but with something I didn't recognise in him... Hunger, for me? Who was I to deny the great Sherlock Holmes the thing he most desired, so I went with my instincts. I clutched at his collar and yanked him in to the shower with me, the water drenching his, no doubt, Saville Row shirt.

"John, I am not strong enough to resist this." There was a touch of angst in his breathy voice.

"Then don't." I hauled him towards me, he stabled himself with his hands either side of my head on the wall. His saturated shirt was pushed against my chest, I wedged my hands between our stomachs and began to pull open the buttons one by one. Sherlock's mouth was against my forehead, I don't think he realised, as I could feel his bottom lip moving as he panted, the gentle scrape of his teeth was unbelievably sexy. 

Sherlock's shirt was open now and I pressed my lips to his collar bone, teasing lightly with my tongue.

"Oh,God, John." He pushed his body harder into mine, I didn't know what He wanted, I worked my hand down his chest, my lips still locked on to his neck, working my tongue is slow circles.

Sherlock's trousers were entirely soaked, my fingers fumbled with the belt buckle and he gasped somewhere above my head. I let my smile raise against his neck. I had loosened his trousers and they were now around his ankles.

"Tell me what you want." I said, toying with the waist band of his underwear. 

Sherlock breathed heavily and so did I. His words were desperate, longing. "I want you."

That was all I needed, I pulled down his boxer shorts, I already knew, but I was slightly taken aback by Sherlock, completely naked, mine. I grasped his hips and tugged them against my own. 

"I." Sherlock began "Let me." He panted out. I didn't need another word. Sherlock's hands were on me, one on the small of my back, and one threading his fingers through my hair. He drew his hips upwards, creating the most glorious friction against my dick, I threw my head back and my jaw went slack.

"Oh, Jesus, Sherlock." He thrust his hips upwards again.

"Ugghh." Those noises from Sherlock's mouth made me want him so much more. His hips pushed upwards three more times, I was close, far closer than I wanted to be. A chorus of raw sounds came from Sherlock's mouth, and he froze.

"Don't stop, please." I didn't want to sound so pathetic, but I needed him so badly right now.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around his body and clawed at the air, as if he wanted to pull back on his shirt that had been tossed to the corner. "No, this isn't right. This can't happen yet." He was already out of the shower, the hot water still pouring over me. Sherlock shifted in to his dressing gown that hung on the door and tore out of the room, I heard his footsteps fade downstairs.

I wasn't going to stand for this, if Sherlock didn't want to be with me like this then he doesn't have to, but to say it was wrong, it shot a pang in my chest that made me feel lower than I thought possible. I too pulled on my dressing gown and turned off the running water. I looked a state, but that wasn't going to stop me from finding out what the fuck was going on.

I went downstairs to find Sherlock in the armchair, he had his elbows propped up on his knees and his hands in his hair. He looked agitated, his leg was shaking.

"Sherlock, what the fuck was that?" It was harsh, but why beat around the bush?

"John, I'm sorry, but I can't do this now." He sounded so very tired.

"No, we are going to do this now. If you didn't want to do that you should have just said." He looked out the top of his eyes and met my stare, his brow furrowed in.

"Of course I wanted to do that, do you not understand how alive I fell when I a near to you. It just isn't right." I couldn't help but cry a little.

"Why? Because I'm gay, I'm sorry Sherlock but if that's what your problem is then you have a fucking big shock heading for you. There isn't anything wrong with what we did." Sherlock had looked up properly and looked concerned for me as I choked up another sob "I didn't want this to happen, I was convinced I was straight, but there you were. How can you say to me that what I am doing is wrong?" 

Sherlock was on his feet now, striding towards me, his long hands cupped my face.

"Shh." He said softly, the sound was cool against my face. "That isn't what I mean. I would never, and could never, object to anything you did. I don't think you realise how much it means to me that you changed your entire way of thinking because of me. I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for you. I admire you John Watson, you are my hero." He thumbed back the tear that rolled down my cheek, my head still in his hands.

"Then why? Why is it wrong?" I sniffed, I felt childish now, but I didn't want Sherlock to let me go.

"Because it isn't supposed to happen like that, we haven't even kissed yet. Before you worry, we will. I promise you, nothing will stop me from kissing you one day, but it isn't time yet." His words were hushed and gently against my face.

"I suppose." I sniffed again "It is rather absurd for you to jack me off before we've even kissed." I laughed, Sherlock looked puzzled.

"Jacked?" He asked, and I spluttered out in amusement, which I immediately felt bad about, Sherlock looked hurt.

"No, sorry Sherlock, I didn't mean to laugh. God I have a lot to teach you." I winked and I was drawn in to silent embrace, Sherlock's hand back in my hair, brushing it lightly in it's opposite direction.

"Tea?" He announced pulling out from the hug too quickly.

"We need milk." I said, the swelling from the tears had gone down now.

"I'll go." I didn't make a joke, we both knew what it was. Sherlock ran across the hall to his bedroom and came back wearing yet another well tailored shirt and trousers.

"Hurry back." I said a smiled, but Sherlock's face had gone serious.

"John, I need you to listen to me, but don't question it. No matter what the situation, you will not be alone, I shall see to it that you are never left to fend for yourself ever again. No matter how far away you think I may be, or how lost you may feel, mark my words John Watson, I will always be back. I may have to go to great lengths to protect you one day and suffer some devastating falls. Remember my words John." Something was behind those words, but I had to trust Sherlock, and he told me not to question them. I swallowed the anxious lump that formed in my throat and nodded.

"I'll pick you up when you fall Sherlock, that's how it works. But the wonderful thing about friendship is, you will never owe me anything in return, just the rest of your life" We exchanged a smile and Sherlock left.

I believe in Sherlock Holmes, he keeps his word.


Sherlock's secret blog, day 13.

Please John, don 't forget... I will always, be back.

Chapter Text

John Watson's secret blog, day 36

"I'm gay."... I hadn't said it before, I had barely thought about it. But yesterday when I was talking to Sherlock, it just, came out. I've no idea where from.

It was true though, I was gay. I had merrily fallen in love with Sherlock and out of love with all women, but how had I not noticed that I was gay, this made no sense. But the feeling was liberating, knowing I was now effectively out of the closet. I remember Harry having a particularly difficult time coming out to our parents, but I loved knowing that Sherlock shared this little aspect of my life.

I had been considering this for over an hour, contemplating on whether I may be bisexual, but the thought didn't appeal. My best source of information was what I now found attractive, of course Sherlock, but other men and women. Sherlock was out of the flat so I went online and tapped in the name of a porn site that I had in my head. Something had dramatically changed in me over the past 18 months, I had NO reaction to the women that were half-heatedly bent over various items of furniture. However when I clicked on to a video of a skinny pale man getting sucked off by a shorter stocky man, I definitely had a... Reaction. I flipped the lid of my laptop down and decided not to think about it anymore, I had made up my mind.

But despite having turned the porn off my body hadn't quite agreed with that decision. So, I dealt with it. I obviously saved mine and Sherlock's shower debacle in my head for situations such as this, I didn't think I would need it quite so soon. Especially since I had "used" it twice last night!

I guess I don't need to log my own wanking habits, so I'll skip to the end. Just as I had redressed myself my phone beeped, twice!

'Come help, Lestrade is being an arse while I'm working.


I left the fly of my jeans while I tapped out 

'Tell him to shut up.'

Not a minute later:

'Can't do that here, come help.


I wasn't getting out of this.

'Fine, Where are you?'

Another minute later.

'Oh, you know where I am.





Of course, I pulled my clothes on slightly neater than they had been and hailed I cab. The cab pulled up outside, Mycroft's house never failed to impress me, even after having been to Buckingham Palace. I knocked on the door and waited before Greg opened it, wearing a dark grey t-shirt and not too tight Calvin Klein's, I swallowed and tried to ignore it. Yep, definitely gay.

"Oh good." Greg said, stepping aside slightly "Can you control your." He paused "Well I guess we can say boyfriend now."

"You most certainly can not, where is he anyway?" I walked in the door to the foot of the grand stairwell.

"Through here." 

It was then that I heard the bickering of the Holmes brothers. I stood and listened for a while.

"Sherlock Holmes, will you stop being so childish, you know Mummy hates it so." Mycroft's voice was unmistakable.

"No." Sherlock was being grumpy, and when he's in that mood there is no getting him out of it, that is of course if you aren't me. "As soon as you tell your boyfriend to leave me alone I will, but until then you can forget it." 

Mycroft sighed loudly "For goodness sake, it's just a shirt. I will not be seen with you like this when the Chinese operatives are here." That was my cue.

"Sherlock, what are you doing." I said, walking through the door, I was stopped in my tracks by Mycroft Holmes half naked, with a towel wrapped round his waste, and Sherlock shirtless, wearing black dress trousers. "I can tell this isn't a usual situation, so if you could just explain what on earth is going on in here." All three opened their mouths to talk but I held up a hand "One of you." I gestured to Sherlock who had now stood to attention "Sherlock, go ahead."

"I arrived here this morning at your request." Sherlock shot Mycroft a cold look.

"Less of the dramatics." I said, I knew Sherlock would behave if I was here.

"Well I came to see the Chinese operatives, like asked, to fill them in on Soon-Tek Oh, I was here for a good few hours doing his dirty work. Then Lestrade here decides he wants a little duvet time, while I'm working, downstairs. So when they were done making more noise than I thought possible." I looked at Greg expecting him to have flushed red, but he smiled, a look of achievement "Lestrade brought me tea, and proceeded to spill it on my shirt. Now I am shirtless and Mycroft here is trying to get me to wear one of Lestrade's shirts." Sherlock folded his arms across his chest and breathed out loudly.

"And what is wrong with that." I asked, knowing full well he's have an answer to it.

"Principle John." I rolled my eyes visible, Sherlock's principles were never worth listening to.

"Right, Mycroft, do you have all the information you need?" I pinched the bridge of my nose hoping this would be as pain free as possible.

"Yes, Sherlock, you may go if you wish." Sherlock walked straight towards the door, still shirtless.

"Sherlock, put the damn shirt on, it's lashing it down out there." I said, in my 'do as I fucking tell you' tone.

"No." He said simply and walked out the door.

"I better go." I angled my thumb in the direction of the door, behind my shoulder, Greg and Mycroft nodded "Oh and well done Greg." I winked and left.

"Sherlock!" I shouted down the street, I was about ten meters ahead. He stopped and turned. The rain on his chest look utterly stunning, I took a deep breath and carried on, once I had caught up with him. "You'll catch your death like this, lets get a cab."

"No can do, not for a couple of streets yet." 

"Well, take my jacket." I slipped it off and held it out while Sherlock put his arms through the sleeves, he sniffed and shivered slightly.


We walked the rest of the way in silence and grabbed a cab after about ten minutes, the drive was slow and Sherlock was physically shaking from the rain. When we got back to 221B the beginnings of a cold, his sinuses were already blocked and he was sneezing far too often.

"I told you-"

"Pleas don't finish that sentence." Sherlock said, looking at me through the towel he had wrapped around himself.

"Fine, but at least let me take care of you." I said rubbing my hands on his shoulders.

"Yes." Sherlock sniffed, the cold was definitely setting in now."Thankyou."

I smiled and led him by hand to his bedroom and sat him on the edge of his bed. I knew this would cause more undressing but I was willing to make the risk and restrain myself. I dug out some black flannel button down pajamas in the back of his wardrobe and chucked them to him.

"Aren't you going to help me." Sherlock grinned. Well if you're offering...

I walked to the edge of the bent and knelt down, I unbuckled his belt and pulled it through the loops. I went to the zip...

"Ugghhh" Sherlock made the most hideously sexual noise I had ever heard. I choked at the surprise and Sherlock rolled his head back in sheer laughter. "Your face." He chortled.

"That wasn't funny." I said, mock slapping his knee.

"Oh quite the contrary, that, was hilarious." Sherlock slipped his own trousers off.

"Is that the only reason you asked me to do that." The beginning of a simper teetered on my lips.

"Yes." Sherlock beamed and I mock slapped his knee again.

"Get you pajamas on and get in to bed, now." Sherlock bit his lip, I can't help but wonder if it was because of the slightly dominating tone in my voice.

"Yes Sir." Sherlock brought his hand to his temple and saluted. I went back to the kitchen to fix something for him to eat.

I riffled through the cupboards trying to find some soup of any description, my hand found an old tin of Heinz tomato soup, it would have to do. I chucked the soup in to a saucepan on a low heat and added the drop of milk we had left. The kettle was already full so I switched it on and tipped a sachet of Lemsip in to a mug. Ghastly stuff Lemsip, I remember having to hold my nose an down it as a kid, but it would help Sherlock now. When the soup was ready and the mug was full I brought it to him on a tray I fished out from a cupboard.

"What's this for?" He said, already underneath his duvet, pushing himself to sitting position.

"If that was a backwards way of telling me you aren't going to eat it then forget it." I put the tray on his lap, and to my surprise he picked up the mug and sipped at it, his face repelled as soon as it touched his tongue. 

"What the fuck is that?" It wasn't often I heard Sherlock swear, it was nice to know he was human every once in a while.

"Just neck it." And he did, I wasn't expecting him to know what I meant. "So shall I bring you in my TV and put a DVD on?"

Sherlock grinned, I had no idea why he looked quite so happy, I wondered what he was thinking about...


Sherlock's secret blog, day 14

"So shall I bring you in my TV and put a DVD on?" 

Time for my next experiment. As I thought those words, a smiled raised on my mouth, I couldn't help it. I bet John was wondering what I was thinking about.

"Yeah, good idea. Are you going to watch it with me?" I batted my eyelashes in a way I knew he loved.

"If you want." He shrugged to hide his joy.

John left for about five minutes and clattered back downstairs with the small television from his room and a DVD I had never heard of.

"The 'Usual Suspects' one for you to sink you teeth in to, see how good you really are." I didn't need to prove my abilities, but if it's what John wanted I'd sure show him.


John Watson's secret blog, day 36 continued...

'The Usual Suspects had to get Sherlock, I would kind of love it if it did.

I put the DVD in and sat in the chair next to Sherlock's bed, we didn't say anything, but held hands...

His first scene! His first Mother fucking scene.

"Him." Sherlock said.

"What?" I was more stunned than anything.

"It was him." My jaw hit the floor.

"That was ridiculous."

"Thankyou." He smirked.

"Wasn't a compliment." I grinned back and we laughed.

"It's fairly obvious, I mean if you look-"

"Don't spoil it for me, I've seen it, but don't ruin the movie magic." 

We sat in silence for the rest of the film, holding hands, I knew what was coming as the credits rolled on.

"Told you." Sherlock said, sitting back smugly.

"Yes, well, Well done you." I said in mock aggravation. "Right, well it's now eleven, you should probably sleep, as should I." I stood up and stretched, by spine cracking slightly.

I went to move out of the room, but Sherlock's hand caught my elbow, all the blood rushed to my face.

"Don't leave." The fragile crack in his voice went straight to my heart, he was obviously feeling worse than he wanted to let on about.

"Of course.2 I said, and pushed his curls back, pressing a kiss on to his temple. "I'll just go change." 

I do so as quickly as my arms would let me, I headed back downstairs. Sherlock was lying back, he propped himself up on an elbow as soon as I walked in, the duvet slipped back revealing his pale, toned form, he had taken his shirt off.

"Don't get too cold." I said settling back in to the chair.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock said, looking slightly puzzled.

"I was just-" I gestured back to the chair.

"No no no, you are here to keep me warm." I felt the flutter in my stomach. I unbuttoned my own shirt and slipped it off, Sherlock watched my every move, his eyes narrowing as he lightly chewed the corner of his lip.

I ran my hand under the duvet and slid in to it, closing the gap between me and Sherlock, twice in a row we had been in such proximity to each other. This position was perfect, we were laying bare chest to chest, my arm was round Sherlock's waist and one of Shelrock's hands was at my face lightly brushing my cheek with his thumb. The hand that were wedged between us and the mattress found each other and we entwined our fingers. Sherlock's chin rested on the top of my head, we chatted for a while, every so often Sherlock would circle his jaw and send a ripple of shivers down my back.

"Hmm." I sighed in to the crook of his neck "Lets stay like this forever?" I said, I was so relaxed, it was wonderful.

"Lets." Sherlock's voice drifted off at the end.

Now is the best time you will ever have John, so just say it. You have been close before, but this was about more than sex, so tell him. He might feel the same way, even if he doesn't you know he likes you. 

God damn it, why haven't you said it yet, nothing is stopping you, just SAY IT!

"Sherlock, I." I paused to brace myself "I love you." He heard nothing, I tilted my head up to see Sherlock fast asleep, my heart crumbled just a little bit.

I really really do.

Better luck next time...

Chapter Text

John Watson's secret blog, day 37

When did this become my life? It was just over a month ago that I started this blog, a hopeless tale of unrequited love, but now, everything had changed. I dreamed on many occasions of waking up in the arms of the man I love so truly, but I always woke with a sense of bitterness that it would never happen... Boy, was I wrong!

It was about six in the morning when I woke, I opened my eyes to check my mind had not played a cruel trick on me, and there he was. The curtains hadn't been drawn properly, so a sliver of light extended across one shoulder, highlighting is slim yet muscular arms. Sherlock's skin never failed to dazzle me, so pale and soft, almost delicate, I can't help but think about leaving scratch marks on it. I stopped that thought before I went to far. I slipped my hand back from round Sherlock's waist and began tracing circles with my finger tip across his abdomen, lightly grazing my nail up to his nipple before going back in the opposite direction. It eluded me what Sherlock looked like whilst he was asleep, of the many times we had slept together, my back was always to him. I lifted my head up, and to my surprise Sherlock's eyes were open, watching me intensely.

I was conscious of my finger on his nipple and I tore my hand away instinctively, as if I had been caught doing something I shouldn't. Sherlock's smile widened at my blush. He pulled me in for a quick tight hug.

"Hello you." Sherlock said, tapping the end of my nose with his finger. Jesus, could that have been any sweeter?

"Morning." I said, rubbing me eyes with my fists.

"Sleep well?" Sherlock's voice was still crackling from having been asleep, it was sexier than I could have imagined.

"Very." My answers were short, I was taking in my surroundings still. But then my thoughts came back to earth as I saw Sherlock looking down at my crotch, a twinge of excitement in his eye. I followed his eye line to my groin, how had I not noticed I was hard as a rock and pressing against Sherlock's leg. I jerked my hips backwards, allowing Sherlock to grin again. "Sorry, Mother nature's a bitch."

Sherlock grinned and planted a kiss on my forehead. "Are you alright?" He asked, I realised my faced must have flushed completely red.

"Yeah, I'm fine, it'll go away in a minute." I said hopefully.

"Well, I could always help with that." Sherlock had looked down now, possibly shy about what he has actually just said.

"You really don't have to-"

"I want to." Sherlock said before I could finish, his words lit a fire in my libido and I was suddenly so ready for him to take me. But I had to be sure.

"I thought you said if was too soon." I hoped he wouldn't change his mind.

"Yes, well I thought about that. As I see it, I am not going to kiss you yet, and the pleasure is only one way, so this is acceptable." Typically, Sherlock's reasoning was based purely on logic. I had suddenly gotten very nervous, and I gave him a timid nod.

It was clumsy to begin with, his hands fumbled at my pajama bottoms and he pushed them to my knees. Sherlock lowered himself from his pillow so we were laying face-to-face. I could see the apprehension his face as he lightly wrapped his hand around the base of my cock, I gasped quietly. He began to move his hand slowly up my length, the feeling was incredible, but the fact it was Sherlock made it all so much better. His pace was slow, I couldn't control the words coming out of my mouth when Sherlock slid his hand up to the head and stroked his thumb down my frenulum, he turned his hand slightly on the way back down, my vision went blurry at the sensation. 

"Jesus, Sherlock!" I would no doubt be embarrassed about this later, but right now I didn't care.

"You've thought about this before haven't you?" Sherlock whispered, his voice was dark, and it added to the phenomenon.

"Ughh." Was all I managed.

"I know you have, you love that I'm touching you, here." With that word Sherlock quickened his pace.

"FUCK." I imagine Mrs Hudson may be able to hear, but I didn't care, this was incredible. Sherlock's hand tightened slightly and I pushed my hips forward in response.

Sherlock's nose ran along my jaw line has he settled his lips on my neck, he kissed teasingly with an occasional flick of his tongue, which only heightened my craving for him.

"Tell me what you want John." His voice trailed of with a desiring snarl.

"You, I want uughh." I couldn't finish my sentence as Sherlock's hand moved quicker again.

"I know, I want you too. I think about it, when I'm alone, what I'd do to you. You make me so hard John." Jesus Christ, Sherlock was talking dirty. "Come for me then John." 

With that, I needed nothing more, Sherlock kept up his pace. My hips bucked and I threw my head back, making ungodly noises. I shuddered as my orgasm hit me, my nails were digging in to Sherlock's back and I pressed myself against him. I remained there for what seems like minutes, as another wave of pleasure rippled over me. Sherlock's mouth was still locked on to my neck, raising goose bumps over my collar bone and shoulders. 

"That." I said, breathless "Was unbelievable."

Sherlock smiled, nudging my nose with his own. "Really?" There was definitely a sense of accomplishment in his voice.

"You know it was." I drummed my fingers on his chest and he leaned away, dangling his hand off of the side of his bed. When he brought it back up he held a box of tissues, I became quite shy at the time and I broke the eye contact that had been maintained for quite some time now. 

"Don't be embarrassed." The fact Sherlock knew and comforted me made my heart melt. "I'll do it." His voice was soft, and he brushed lightly with the tissue on my abdomen, and to my horror, his too.

"Sorry 'bout that." 

"Don't be sorry, I quite enjoyed it." He smiled again, it was then I looked down to see Sherlock was hard now, and probably had been for the majority of the time.

"Can I..." My words trailed off and I flattened my hand out in the direction of Sherlock's bulge.

"You have no idea how much I want you to, but not yet." There was the distinct sound of trepidation in his voice as he declined.

"No worries." I had to make him feel more at ease "Well Mr Holmes, you sure found those tissues quickly, need them often do you?" I laughed and Sherlock giggled childishly.

"I'll have you know I never masturbate." He grinned.

"You make it sound so clinical." Not bad, just clinical.

"You're a Doctor?" I could hear the whit in his voice.

"Touché." We grinned at each other for a moment before it occurred to me that my pajamas were still at my knees, I pulled them up and sat up, much to Sherlock's disappointment. "Breakfast?" I asked with a quick turn of my head.

"Let me make it for you." Sherlock sprang up and off of his bed "You wait here." He brushed my hair back and pressed a kiss on to my temple before bounding out of the room gleefully.

It had been twenty minutes and Sherlock wasn't back, so I got up to see what was happening, when I got to the kitchen he wasn't in sight. But I saw a yellow sticky note on the counter top, it read:

'Just gone out to get your favorite

'SH xxx'

Kisses! He put kisses on his note to me, I love him so much, and this brought it home that it wasn't in vain.

I decided that I couldn't look like a mess when Sherlock got back. I went upstairs and brushed my teeth, I usually wouldn't do this before breakfast but I didn't want to be caught short if it happened that Sherlock wanted to kiss me. I headed back downstairs when I thought I was presentable, still just wearing pajama trousers. Sherlock still wasn't back so I settled back in to his bed, reflecting on what had actually just happened. 

I must have fallen asleep briefly as I was woken by the sound of the slamming door. I heard Sherlock shuffling around with whatever he was preparing, then the faint rumble of the kettle. He was another five minutes after that but it seemed like an eternity. Then He appeared in the crack of the doorway and toed it further open.

"I hope I got it right." Sherlock said, settling the tray down on my lap. It was impressive the efforts he had made. He had gone to the bakery a few streets away and got the butter croissants that I adore, still warm, he had made tea and poured a glass of orange juice and there was a small bowl of strawberries on the side.

"Oh Sherlock, you got it perfect." He smiled and bit his bottom lip like and excited child. "Aren't you going to have anything?" He jumped up off of the bed and came back with an identical tray of food. "Well aren't we full of surprises today?" It earned me a wink and another kiss on the cheek.

We ate in silence, which was a combination of the food and contemplating on the morning's events. Though every so often we glanced at each other, neither of us could believe that had happened. I still can't.

"So." Sherlock announced after we had finished an he had cleared the tray away "How about we stay in bed all day and talk?" 

"Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?" I laughed.

"I'm serious, me and you. You are the only person I can bare to spend time with so why not."

"That sounds perfect." I could see the keenness in Sherlock's eye "Was there something you wanted to say?" I love you, perhaps? 

"Well yes, I rather think there is." My stomach did a nervous flip "Can we talk about sex?" His tone was to the point, but he sounded like a program that teenagers have to watch in those horribly awkward lessons that everyone hated.

"If you want, what do you want to know." This had many meanings, I think it covered all bases though.

"I want you to tell me about your first kiss, then when you lost your virginity." It seemed like he had mapped out this conversation.

"Well, I was 12 when I first kissed someone. Myself and a friend got dared to kiss for ten seconds in a game. Which is the most boring story ever, there was no romance attached to it, just a bit of a sloppy kiss." Sherlock's shoulders slumped.

"Hm, what was her name?" Here we go...

"His name was James." He immediately perked up and shot me a questioning look.

"A boy?" His face was calculating "Your first sexual experience, was with a boy?"

"Yes." I chuckled and rolled my eyes "Come on Sherlock, we got dared to do it, I didn't fancy the lad and I haven't kissed another guy since. Its not like I've had latent homosexual feelings, that only started when you jumped in to my life." Sherlock's face calmed at the words, he clearly liked the thought of that.

"For which I shall be eternally grateful." He pressed his hand to his heart mockingly. "Your virginity?"

"Yes, now that definitely was a girl." I cleared my throat "I was at a party, I was only 15 and some friends of mine had managed to get some beer, I guess it was stolen from a parents house."

"You were drunk?" Sherlock said, surprised.

"No, now shut up, this is my story." He mime zipped his lip and I continued "So no, I wasn't drunk, I  had a couple which gave me bit of a buzz. This girl form the year above me asked if I wanted to go upstairs with her. I wasn't sure, but at the end of the day I was a horny teenager, so I followed. It wasn't spectacular, neither of us had done it before and we weren't entirely sure what to do, I came, she didn't. That's really all I can tell you, truly boring I am sure." I turned to look at Sherlock who was staring intently back at me. 

"How interesting." He said simply.

"Go on then, your turn Cassonover." I raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

"I can't." This was shaping up well.

"Well why not, I told. Tell." I prodded his arm with my index finger and he swayed slightly.

"No, I actually can't. I have never kissed anyone or had sex. So unless you want me to relay what happened earlier, I can't help I'm afraid." I suddenly felt a pang of guilt, I can't believe I had taken the first sexual experience of Sherlock's life, I didn't even kiss him, and it was all about me. I felt horrific "Don't." He said, as if he could read my thoughts like a book "I wanted that to happen this morning, I wanted it to be about you, which coincidentally worked out very well for me. I can see that people don't tell you often enough just how utterly gorgeous you are." I felt the blood rush to my face and Sherlock laughed lightly, pressing a kiss on my cheek. "See?"

"Thankyou, for that, and for earlier. Did I already say that? Even if I did say that, thankyou again, I really enjoyed it." I babbled, and Sherlock leaned over to push another kiss on my forehead.

We stayed in bed, for the entire day, we must have talked out our entire lives. We laughed about my days at St Barts and the stupid mistakes I made as a student Doctor, then things occasionally became more serious as we talked about Sherlock's battle with heroin. Never in my life have I ever felt quite so close to another human.

It got to eleven at night and I decided I should probably throw away the take out cartons that had been sitting at the side of Sherlock's bed for a good couple of hours.

"Thankyou Sherlock." I said timidly as we settled back in bed to sleep.

"Don't thank me, I did nothing, you supplied me with the single best day of my life." Those words were such high praise from Sherlock, it made me feel incredible.

We were in the same position as last night, and I pushed up and kissed Sherlock's chin, then mandible, throat and finally his collar bone. Sherlock reciprocated and kissed my temple, then moved down to nibble lightly at my helix, which he had discovered during today was something I enjoyed very much. I sighed, a little too loud and Sherlock bumped his forehead on mine gently.

"John will you go on a date with me?"


Chapter Text

Sherlock's secret blog, day 15

I love him.

There was no question in my mind, I am in love with John Watson. I can't be sure but I think I have always loved him, even if I didn't realise. But over the past two weeks, since doing my secret blog, I have fallen, so utterly and completely. Molly was right, there would be a moment and I would know. I had watched John sleeping for almost half an hour by the time he woke up, then to see him mindlessly touching me, I was captivated. That was when I knew, for certain.

But now I had to do something about it, however my knowledge of love and relationships is somewhat limited. So I did what I always do, researched. I looked a little online, and the general consensus was that you take someone out on a date. I took the the entire day we were in bed to buck up the courage to ask John.

"John will you go on a date with me?" I held my breath and my arms stiffened around John's body. 

"Sherlock?" John's eyes opened and locked on me, I heard the catch in his breath.

"Please, go on a date with me." I couldn't bare it if he said no. He sat, looking at me for a minute, I could read his face like I usually could, he was serious, calculating. Then, to my relief, his face cracked in to the most beautiful smile, he clasped his hands either side of my face and pushed a rough kiss in the center of my forehead.

"Of course I will, nothing could make me happier." I had no words to say, I was overcome with happiness.

"Tomorrow, I will take you out for dinner. Is that OK?" I don't even know if it was OK to ask if it was OK.

"Yes." John laughed "It's perfect." He kissed my cheek, I loved him even more for understanding why I couldn't kiss him... I loved him for being him.


John Watson's secret blog, day 38

In all my time of wondering, it was finally here, my chance.

My chance to be who I really want to be, Sherlock's. I have wanted to be the man that Sherlock called his own ever since that morning in St Barts. I imagined it so much differently, I wasn't worried about what we'd talk about, I wasn't panicking over how I should act. I was calm, collected.

That was of course until I went upstairs and had to decide what to wear. Sherlock and I had spent the past 48 hours in bed, half naked, and now... Well now I had to choose something that would fit the situation perfectly. What exactly does one wear on their first date with the love of their life? I decided the best course of action was to see what Sherlock was wearing, so I headed downstairs and made and excuse of wanting a glass of water. 

Oh my god. 

Sherlock was wearing a suit, one I hadn't seen before. The trousers were skinny, and showed every detail of his perfect form, his shirt was clean white, the buttons straining over his chest and abdomen, cuffs fastened with silver links, his tie was thin and black, sleek. He wasn't wearing the jacket yet, it hung on the back of the chair Sherlock stood in front of. I babbled slightly about why I wasn't ready and ran back upstairs.

I did my best to pull together something that would make me look half as good as Sherlock did, but for Christ's sake he looked like some kind of Adonis!  I managed to find I semi-respectable suit. It was grey, the trousers were fitted at the ankle, and the waist coat was just big enough, I plucked out a white shirt and pale blue tie before slipping in to my jacket.

I felt a little self-conscious walking down the hall with Sherlock's eyes watching my every move. He walked towards be slowly, pulling my hand out of my pocket and holding it in his own.

"You look gorgeous." Sherlock said, his words were whispered and I felt his breath against my face.

"Not so bad yourself." I said, brushing a light kiss on his cheek, the pink glow signaled on his cheeks and he smiled.

"Shall we?" Sherlock moved his hand to the direction of the door and uncurled his gingers from his palm.

"We shall." I pressed another quick kiss on his cheek, which I was getting far too used to doing.

Sherlock hooked his arms in to his suit jacket an then in to his coat, then took my hand. 

"Where are we going then Sherlock? If that's OK for me to ask." I had no idea what Sherlock had planned, I'd go along with anything really.

"Hibiscus, on Maddox Street." Fucking hell, I wasn't sure what to expect from Sherlock on a first date, but a two Michelin star restaurant seemed a bit far. "I want to treat you how you deserve to be treated, so do not even think about trying to pay tonight." I opened my mouth to object and Sherlock put his index finger against it "Don't bother, you are my date, so you go by my rules."

"What's new?" I winked and we headed outside. Maddox Street was a twenty minute walk so Sherlock hailed a taxi, I sat in the seat on the left and Sherlock sat in the middle, one leg bent upwards resting on my knees whilst he leaned in and hugged me, we stayed like this in silence for the five minute journey, it was perfect.

The taxi pulled up just outside and we were shown to our seat my a young blonde girl, she smiled and handed us the menus, poured water in to our glasses. I know this was her job, but me and Sherlock were holding hands, and she took no notice, it meant so much to me that we looked like we belonged together. 

"Can we have a bottle of  Dom Pérignon Oenothèque Brut." Sherlock's eyes never left me.

"Yes, of course." The waitress smiled and walked away.

"I didn't know you spoke champagne." I grinned and Sherlock ran his finer round the rim of his glass.

"Well yes, I do have rather a lot stored up here." He tapped his temple.

We were seated on a small square table, Sherlock wad facing the rest of the restaurant and I saw only him. I had thought this was a good thing when we first sat down, but then when Sherlock's mouth fell open and his widened I wondered what was going on.

"What the fuck is going on."I heard the 'I'm not fucking happy' tones in his voice. I was puzzled as to why, so I turned round to see Mycroft and Greg arm-in-arm talking to the evening host. 

Mycroft's hand went to his dinner jacket pocket and fished something out, once he had he handed it to the host and pointed directly at us. To my growing anger, she graciously smiled and walked them over to the table next to us. 

"Here you go Mr Holmes, have a wonderful evening." They sat down, Greg to my right and Mycroft to Sherlock's.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock sounded angry.

"Why me and Greg are having dinner, as are yourself and John, how quaint." Mycroft gave him a tight smile and turned back to his menu.

"You knew we would be here, why are you interrupting my date?" I looked to my side to see Greg staring back at me with an 'I told you so' look plastered all over his face.

"Why do you think I keep tabs on you Sherlock dear?" There was no stopping the Holmes brothers bickering.

"Well Mycroft, you have professed on many occasion your distaste for French cuisine, so why would you bring Lestrade here? I mean, he hasn't got himself a particularly high set of standards has he? You knew I was bringing John here because you saw us in bed together last night and heard me ask him, I'm not supid, I know you have cameras, and you bugged our phone, so you knew where I had booked a table." I was shot a look of complete shock from Greg. "And to top it off, Lestrade hasn't been able to wipe that smug look off of his face since you walked in here." Sherlock slammed his fist on the table, loud enough for a few surrounding diners to look over.

"I'm hurt Sherlock, you think I would do such a thing." Greg said with a touch of satire in his tone.

Sherlock opened his mouth, I imagine to let loose on Greg, when our waitress returned, we hadn't looked at the menu properly, so I skimmed it, but I hadn't heard of most of the ingredients.

"Entrees." The waitress asked.

"We'll have Confit Var Salmon, Smoked Custard & Aubergine." I thought I'd be put of by the cliche of Sherlock ordering for me, but I have to say, I loved it.

"And for your main course?" Her accent was forced.

"Plantation Pork, Artichoke Barigoule, Sauce Charcutière, thankyou." Sherlock's eyes were back to mine, I could see the look of astonishment across Greg's face.

"Very good Sir." 

It still hadn't sunk in that I was on a date with Sherlock, even if Mycroft and Greg were sitting a foot away, I wasn't going to let it spoil the evening. 

"When do you learn so much about French food then?" I tried to ignore their obvious glare and sipped the champagne that the waitress had brought over.

"Would you believe me if I told you I used it in a case?" Sherlock's finger was still circling the top of his glass.

"No." I simpered and Sherlock laughed in to his hand.

"I knew I'd get caught out if I kept spinning you that tale." We smiled at each other for a moment before it was evident that Greg and Mycroft were watching us closely.

"Really Mycroft, what do you gain from this?" It was my turn to argue on our date.

"Information." He dragged the word out longer than necessary.

"Quit the bullshit ominous 'I'm the British government' shit." Sherlock grabbed my hand and pressed it to his lips.

"Don't worry John, I'll make it up to you tomorrow." He was sincere. 

"Yes John, I can assure you I can be a lot worse." Mycroft's attempts at intimidating were poor, I felt brave enough to test that theory.

"I highly doubt that." Sherlock shot in.

Then the worst happened, just to prove some bizarre point. Mycroft leaned over the table and locked his mouth on Greg's, their heads moved in unison, Mycroft's tongue was visible from the corner of his lips, slipping in and out of Greg's mouth. Sherlock leaned over our table, my breath caught and I thought this was going to be it. But his face passed mine and he whispered in to my ear:

"I'll do that for you later." The combination of his breath on my mandible and the words he was saying sent a wave of excitement to my groin, I cleared my throat in to my fist and stared back at Sherlock who was not sitting back in his seat. 

Mycroft had sat back too and the four of us sat in silence for a moment, when our entrees arrived. 

The food was almost unrecognisable, but I ate it, it was incredible. Though I had got to my second mouthful when Mycroft announced:

"So have you to finally consummated this tragedy you call a relationship." I balled my hands in to fists ready to punch on Sherlock's command.

"Yes we have." Sherlock replied, I had no idea what the fuck was going on "Everyday, sometimes multiple times, John last for hours don't you." I remained silent.

"Well, you do surprise me, congratulations indeed." Mycroft's tone was sodden with sarcasm.

"Yes, well thankyou. You like it rough don't you, he likes it when I wear the hat and deduce what it feels like." I could feel Greg's stare burning on my face. 

It felt like all the blood in my body had rushed to my cheeks, the blaze of embarrassment was hot on my skin.

"Sherlock what are you-"

"Come now, don't be shy." He grinned, and I said nothing else. I then felt Sherlock's foot running up the side of my leg, between my thighs and.

"Sherlock." I spluttered, it felt good, but not with an audience.

"You know you like that really, don't you John." What the hell was he doing, he could see I didn't like it.

"What the fuck?" I clamoured and threw my napkin on the table. " You are complaining about Mycroft ruining our date, but you're doing the exact same thing now. You clearly aren't taking this seriously, so I'm going." I stood up and added "And don't even fucking bother to follow me." I walked out of the restaurant with the stare of the diners baring on me.

Once I was outside, the wind was cold and bitter, I shoved my hands in my pockets and began to walk, I just wasn't in the mood to make forced conversation with a taxi driver. I walked back the length of the street, by which point my ears were numb and red.  I stood by F.Pinet on the corner of Maddox Street and New Bond Street to try and hail a cab.

"John." I turned to see Sherlock walking towards me, took him long enough.

"Fuck off Sherlock." It was nine at night so there were all of three people around, two of which were too drunk to know what was going on and the other just watched from afar.

"Come on John just let me explain." I turned to walk away, it was childish of me but I flipped him the bird and marched on.

I had got to Orogold when Sherlock grabbed my elbow and spun me round.

"Listen to me, please, I'm sorry." He sounded genuine.

"In that case, why did it take you long to follow me?" 

"Well, you had said not to bother, but it later transpired that you may have said that because you wanted me to." 

"Did Lestrade tell you that?" Sherlock looked at the ground coyly.

"Yes." That was it then, he had broken me. I did what you should never do in an argument, I smiled. The relief on Sherlock's face was enough to tell me he was sorry.

"Why then? Why tell Mycroft that?" 

"Mycroft Holmes is an insatiable arse hole who I will not give the satisfaction of thinking he is better than myself, in any area." I felt for Sherlock, it can't have been easy growing up alongside one of the most egotistical men in Britain.

"But does that mean you had to make up my kinks?" Sherlock shrugged.

"I guess not, I am sorry though." I smiled, we were going to be fine. "Shall we wait here for a cab to drive by? There is a rank a few streets away so some are bound to drive down here."

"Sure." I couldn't tell Sherlock it was so cold that my nipples could cut glad right now, so we waited. However my body didn't agree, and with a gust of wind I shivered and he looked concerned.

"Are you cold?" I nodded and shivered again "You'll catch your death you know." He winked "Come here."

Sherlock tucked his hands in his coat pockets and opened it wide, I knew what he wanted me to do, I slipped my arms around his waist and entwined my fingers at the small of his back, my cheek was pressed against his chest and his chin was resting on the top of my head. Then I was enveloped in warmth as he wrapped his coat around my back, we were practically both wearing it, and it was beautiful.

"You know Sherlock, you could have just asked." I felt his jaw moving as he thought about it.

"Asked you what?" I could here the confusion in his voice.

"What my kinks are." Sherlock pulled back slightly so he could look me directly in the face.

"Oh really Doctor Watson, and what would they be?" Sherlock's voice was so seductive and it raised a bulge in my pants. I leaned up on my tip-toes and whispered in his ear four little words.

"Call me Doctor Watson" I tried to copy the alluring tone. It paid off and I could feel the tightening in Sherlock's trousers against my stomach.

Sherlock's eyes were ablaze with lust and he leaned in, locking his lips on to my neck. I don't know where Sherlock learnt to do this, but it was incredible, he started at the crook of my neck and mandible pressing feather light kisses downwards to my collar bone, where his tongue would dart on to my skin, too quick for me to get in to the sensation and left me wanting so much more. There was something slightly different this time, every so often there was a gentle scrape of his teeth that I knew I shouldn't like but God it made me so hard, how could Sherlock do this to me.

As the thoughts were rushing through my head I let a moan escape my mouth, which only heated Sherlock more and his movements became rougher, one hand was on the back of my head, pulling my hair lightly, exposing my neck. But then Sherlock's other hand wandered down and grabbed my arse, it was so unexpected and so damn hot, the slightly dig of his nails made me lose control.

"Not here." I panted.

"Oh God, John." Jesus Christ  Sherlock sounded as if he he was close from just kissing my neck.

"Come on, there is a cab."  Sherlock pulled away and took my hand.

"I'm sorry, that was just... Well, you're incredible." Sherlock had a look of pure desire.

I held my hand up and the taxi slowed to a stop. "Come on then, I'll let you grope me in the cab." I winked and Sherlock covered his blush with his hand. 

Never have I ever wanted a cab ride to last longer. I, again, sat on the left and Sherlock in the middle. I had my head tipped back on the seat, Sherlock's lips latched on to my exposed neck, working slowly. His legs were over mine, on hand was under my shirt and waist coat, resting on my abdomen, the other was softly tickling the hollow of my collar bone. I had taken a leap and placed my hand at the top of his thighs and gradually curled and uncurled my fingers. Every so often Sherlock would groan in to my neck and would make noises I'd rather not admit to, which made the cabbie look in the mirror and throw us a dubious look, but I just didn't care.

When the car pulled up outside it took a moment to realise, the cabbie coughed and we broke apart.

"Six eighty then." Sherlock fished in to his pocket and pulled out £20

"Keep the change." He shoved the note through the hole in the glass.

"Cheers mate, you kids have a good night." Sherlock smiled sheepishly and we got out.

"So, that didn't exactly go to plan." Sherlock said as we climbed the stairs, hand in hand.

"Well, no, but I did enjoy the end to our first date." I grinned up at Sherlock, who was now unlocking the door.

"I fully intend to scrap that as our first date and do it over tomorrow." Not something I was opposed to.

"Without your brother?" I squeezed Sherlock's hand and he pulled me in to a hug, in the centre of the living room.

"Well yes, that is the plan, I'll cook for you." I hadn't ever seen Sherlock cook, the closest was the other morning when he made me breakfast.

"Sounds utterly perfect." I went up on to my tip-toes and planted a kiss in the middle of his forehead.

"Then I'll make it up to you in there afterwards." Sherlock tipped his head and raised his eyebrows in the direction of his bedroom down the hallway, then he slapped his hand down on the top of my arse "...Doctor Watson." I bit my lip in what was supposed to be a suggestive manner.

"Sherlock, can I ask you a question?" I was nervous.

"Ignoring the paradox that you just asked me one, then yes, go ahead." I rolled my eyes and Sherlock grinned.

"Will you ever kiss me? Every time I've tried to kiss you you back away, I just want to be that much closer to you." I sound so stupid.

"Of course I will, I just want to do it in one moment, when it feels so perfect." I loved that he was so caught up in it "I want to feel close to you too, I have an idea." Sherlock grabbed my hand and, yet again, lead me to his bedroom. "Can I take you clothes off." Sherlock said smoothly, and I nodded.

The entire process was so slow. He began at my waist coat, unbuttoning it and sliding it off of my shoulders, dropping it on to the floor. There was something enchanting about watching Sherlock undress me. His hands moved to my shirt buttons and he slowly pressed each on open, when he had finished he pulled the shirt from my waist band and eased it off of my shoulders. Sherlock had walked behind me, I remained still and I felt nothing for a minute or so. Then Sherlock's bare chest pushed against my back, then his lips were on my shoulders, pressing lightly, rounding to the top of my spine. Sherlock was undeniably hot like this, his erection pushing in to my back , just above where I wanted it. His arms slipped round and gently stoked my chest before slipping down to the buckle of my belt and undoing the clasp, before I knew it my belt was on the floor and he was sliding down my zip, all the while working his mouth on the back of my neck. Once my trousers and underwear were at my ankles I stepped out of them and toed off my socks, as I turned I was Sherlock was also completely naked, he was hard.

Sherlock was stunning, to my own surprise I paid a lot of attention to his thighs, they were toned and pale and oh so exquisite. My eyes had barely enough time to take in the site as Sherlock spoke.

"We aren't going to have sex." I was partly relieved, I don't think even I was prepared for that yet.

"Ok, what will we do." Sherlock thought for a moment and decided.

"Get in to my bed, duvet back and lay on your side." I did so without hesitation.

I lay for a moment while Sherlock's gaze ran up and down my body. He eventually moved, I thought we would lay face-to-face, but instead he clambered over me and settled with he chest against my back. I felt comfortable, even if Sherlock's erect cock was pushed up against my arse, not at the angle I needed. I didn't think we could get closer without sex, but then Sherlock brought one muscular leg up and hooked it round my own, his hand rested on my sternum and he pulled my closer in.

"Is this close enough for you." Sherlock asked, his head rested in the crook of my neck and his words blew cool air over my cheek.

"Yeah, this should do it." I felt his smile raise. 

"Goodnight Doctor Watson."

"Who knew Sherlock Holmes was the type to tease. Goodnight, my Reichenbach hero." 

"Euugh, you sound like the Daily Mail." His finger tapped at my nose.

"Oh stop it, you know you love me really." I teased.

"Yes, Of course." I felt his entire body tense around me, I knew he didn't want to talk about this.

"Well, lets save that for another night." We said no more, Sherlock had fallen asleep within ten minutes.

But I was still awake for another few hours, his words held so much power over me, "of course"... 

Of course you love me?...

Chapter Text

John Watson's secret blog, day 39

That was the single best night of my life, Sherlock woke up about six in the morning, I had been awake for half an hour. We chatted for a while, his leg still wrapped around me, then my phone rang.

"Hello." I was stood, naked, in the middle of Sherlock's bedroom, his eyes not leaving me.

"Hello, John it's Sarah, is there any chance you can come in today?" I really didn't want to, It was then I noticed Sherlock had propped himself up on his elbow , giving me an incredibly suggestive look. "Doctor Khan is ill and we're swamped."

"Err, yeah sure, I need to leave by five." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh thanks John."

"See you soon."

"I look forward to it." She giggles and I put the phone down, she was always flirting with me.

"I'm going in to the surgery today, I'll be back for our date later." Sherlock's face slumped, and he looked moody.

"Oh why. I wanted to spend the day with you, in bed." Sherlock bit his lip, with my bodies exposure I took a moment to relax the feeling stirring in me.

"Tough, put on your big boy pants and wait."


"No, you'll have me to yourself tonight, I promise. Sometimes we have to share our toys with the other kids." I grinned and Sherlock cocked his eyebrow.

"Oh, so you're mine are you." Sherlock raised himself from the bed slowly as he spoke.

"Oh you know I am." I was trying to keep the mood modest, but with the slight growl in Sherlock's voice, it wasn't working.

"So, if you're mine." He was stood in front of me now, and me leaned in to push a kiss on my shoulder "Then, I guess that means I can do what I like with you." With those words he ran one finger up the inside of my thigh, raising my cock to attention.

"No Sherlock, not now, I need to go." My tone was stern yet forgiving.

"Looks like your body doesn't agree." I looked down to see where Sherlock's hand was heading and I slapped it away "Ouch!"

"Bad boy, you can save that for later." I threw him a sultry look and left the room before I caved and ravished him right there.

I went upstairs to get dressed, it took a moment for my erection to go, by the time it had I needed to leave. I chucked on a green check shirt and navy blue jumper and black trousers. I ran downstairs, Sherlock wasn't in his room anymore, he was in the kitchen, still naked.

"I wouldn't cook like that if I was you." Sherlock's head snapped up at my words and his lips curled in to a smirk.

"Oh, just making sure you know what you're leaving behind." He leaned with his back against the work top and his eyes dropped to his own crotch then back to me.

"I think we can both survive the day, don't you?" I smiled and walked over to him.

"No, I can't. What if I said I wanted to take you right here, right now, on that table." His words stirred in my groin but I pushed them back.

I pushed myself against him and put my lips to his ear, speaking softly as I ran one finger up the inside of his thigh.

"Take me." I paused, admiring  the look of pure lust that spread over Sherlock's face. "In a few hours." I grinned, his breath caught as my finger reached the very top of his thigh.

"Oh, now who's a tease." Sherlock said, gripping the counter top to contain his libido, which had clearly sky rocketed.

"Boys do you need anything from OH MY GOODNESS." Before I had the chance to flinch Mrs Hudson had stopped dead, here jaw plummeted to the floor.

There we stood, Sherlock naked, my hand still dangerously close to his balls, and Mrs Hudson watching, who had gone a deadly shade of white. 

"Mrs Hudson." Was all Sherlock managed before pulling me in front of him to cover his scrap of dignity "I am so sorry you saw- thaaaahhaa." The sound rolled out of Sherlock's mouth as I ground against him subtly, I didn't say I had finished teasing.

"Not together then John?" Mrs Hudson looked oddly proud of her response. I was slightly relieved that she wasn't entirely scarred.

"Well yes, there have been some, erm, interesting developments in the past few weeks."

"I can see that dear." She cocked her eyebrow.

"Yes, well I am so sorry you had to see, well, this." I cleared my throat and flashed a tight smile.

"Don't worry boys, like I said, we get all sorts round here. Mrs Turner's just divorced her third husband." She smiled and walked back the way she came, I imagine she had forgotten her original intentions.

I waited a few seconds before bursting out in laughter "Did that actually just happen." I began to turn away but Sherlock pulled me back against him.

"No, stay there." I felt his hips move and his cock rub against the material covering my arse, I stepped forward and turned to meet his eyes.

"I don't think so Sir, you aren't just going to get yourself off while I have to go and work." I could tell this wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Fine, if you simply must earn money then go ahead." 

"Oh, are we being moody now?" I winked at him and I got a sigh in reply. "Alright then, I'm going to go, I look forward to our date." I chucked my coat on and popped a kiss on Sherlock's cheek, raising a flush and a slight smile.

"If you're lucky I'll get dressed for dinner." He smirked.

"And how is that lucky for me?" I winked and walked out the door, it was going to be a long day.


I was right, it had been this day for almost three months, how could it possibly be only two 'O' clock? By the time I had time for a coffee break it was three in the afternoon and I had sat through no less than four pregnant teenagers complaining about swollen body parts, three elderly patients that didn't know why they were here, two middle aged men with questionable rashes and guilty looks and one woman who thought her cat was stalking her. To be honest my reply:-

"Well go to a fucking vet, or better yet a psychologist, now stop waisting my time."- Probably was a bit harsh, considering she had ran out crying, but I just didn't have the patience today.

I sat in my office when there was a light knock at the door, it opened and Sarah popped her head in.

"Hi John, just brought you a coffee, thought you might need it." She smiled a little too joyfully.

"Yeah cheers." I smiled tightly and took the cup, I could tell she had been waiting outside because it was slightly cold. "Something you wanted?" Again, I know it was rude, but she was just staring expectantly at me.

"Yes, I just wondered what you were doing after work, I thought we could go out for-"

"I've got a date." I knew where this was heading, I wasn't going to sit and listen to her awkwardly ask me out.

"Oh, well, anyone special?" There was no hiding her devastation.

"Yes, very special in fact." I felt a little guilty. Me and Sarah had been on one date and we shagged, there was nothing more to it, I even told her this.

"Have fun." Her voice had gone up an octave and she hurried out the room.

I only had to endure another one hour and fourty-seven minutes. I sat through so many more useless appointments for people that had nothing wrong. I had just ten minutes left my last patient came in, he was tall and slim, like Sherlock. He was a deathly pale, almost grey with it, he was wearing a black suit and black shirt, something wasn't right.

"Doctor Watson." He spoke slowly, his voice was frail.

"Yes, how can I help you." I smiled and gestured my hand in the direction of the chair opposite me.

"No no, I believe you have misread why I am here. See, I sent some friends of mine to see Sherlock." The colour from my face drained, this was the 'boss' of those men who had stripped and beaten Sherlock.

"Who the fuck are you, you stay away from him." I was standing now. He laughed a sickly laugh.

"Oh I can assure you Mr Holmes will be fine, you don't need to worry about your boyfriend." He paused "Well, you don't need to worry about what I am going to do to him anyway. It has come to the attention of my organisation that he may not be as easy to get to now, so this is my official temporary resignation from the torture of Sherlock Holmes." I didn't understand, did they think that Sherlock would be untouchable now I was with him?

"Who are you?" I spoke slower this time, and he laughed again.

"Oh, do calm down Doctor Watson. We are going to be leaving you alone now. Though be warned, he'll be back." It all made sense util the end.

"What did you say?" For a split-second his face was panicked.

"We'll be back, I said." He turned to walk out of the door.

"No, you said 'he', you said 'he'll be back' what do you mean?" He was walking out of the door, his head didn't even turn.

"Goodbye Doctor Watson, be seeing you, tell Sherlock I'll see him in the fall." 

I had no idea what was happening, I just lowered myself back in to my seat and took a moment. 

Who will be back?

I sat in my office for the remaining few minutes undisturbed, contemplating on what had actually just been said. It was 17:05 before I even realised I could leave, I grabbed my coat and headed out, passing reception.

"Um, Doctor Watson, you have one more patient." Sarah beamed up from the high desk.

"No, I said I was leaving at five, it's gone five, I'm going." Stern, but fair.

"It's just the one more, I'm sure your date can wait." She smiled irritatingly.

"I'm going Sarah, this was only a favour until Doctor Khan was back, and he will be tomorrow." I raised my voice.

"Not in front of the patients, your date can't be that important can it now?" 

"I'm going home to shag Sherlock." I left her no time to reply, I could practically hear her jaw hit the floor as I left the surgery.

A few weeks ago I had delayed coming home to see Sherlock, now, my feet simply wouldn't move fast enough. Where the fuck had every fucking taxi gone in London, it was like the world didn't want me to see Sherlock. 

Finally! A cab pulled up about twenty minutes from Baker Street and I hopped in with a little too much enthusiasm.  When the car pulled up outside I willed my limbs to move as quickly as possible, but I stopped dead outside the door, for whatever reason.

Breathe, just breathe. This has literally been all of your dreams for the past eighteen months, why are you not already inside? I felt like I could hear my heart beat and my tongue was thick in my mouth. Just go in... He'll be there, waiting for you. GO! 

I walked in, expecting to see Sherlock in a suit, flailing around the kitchen, but no. He sat on the sofa, head in hands. 

"Sherlock?" I softened my voice as to not alarm him, it didn't work, his glare shot up to meet my gaze. His eyes were blood-shot and glazed with tears.

"John." He sniffed against his hand "I'm sorry you had to see me like this." I knew Sherlock didn't like to be vulnerable, so I did my best to ease him. I grabbed a handkerchief and slowly dabbed at his tears.

"I walked in on you completely naked not that long ago, I don't think you'll phase me." I winked and he half-smiled. "What's the matter?"

"I'm scared John." I so badly wanted to cradle him in my arms right now.

"Scared of what?"

"This John, I know what will happen after dinner, and I'm just not ready." His arms wrapped back back on himself and he avoided my eye line.

"You listen to me My Holmes." I pushed my index knuckle under his chin lightly and his head rolled up to watch me "I understand, I honestly do. Because it may have escaped your notice, but for the majority of my life I have been a straight man, so this is the first time I have ever done some pretty not-straight stuff. I know it must be more difficult for you because this is your first time entirely, but we will go at your pace. We don't have to do anything tonight, or any night, if you aren't happy, because that's all I want Sherlock, to make you happy." A smile raised on his mouth, the most beautiful smile I had ever seen, he was scared and so gorgeous with it. I sniffed back another tear and focused on me.

"You make me happy John and can barely contain myself that you'd slow down, for me. But what if you decide I'm not what you want? I know I am not the best person to live with and I am not a nice human at all, I don't think I could bare for you to leave me, not now." 

"I can assure you, you are the greatest man I have ever, and will ever know." His face softened "To be honest, I worry that you will eventually realise I do not deserve you." Our foreheads met and Sherlock's nose brushed mine. "I'll go make us some tea eh?" Sherlock nodded timidly.

I got to the kitchen and flipped the kettle on and drummed my hands on the counter top, then I felt Sherlock's chest push against me back. 

"John, you are so much more than I could have ever imagined." No matter the cliche, I could feel my heart skip at the words.

"Sherlock, I have to tell you while you're not looking because if I knew that you didn't feel the same I won't cope... I love you, and I have since I met you." I felt him freeze and he stepped back, I spun round to see him. His eyes were wide and shocked "Sherlock, please say something." 

"I..." He said nothing.

"That's fine, I'd rather you said nothing than lied to me, lets call tonight off." I wanted so badly to not cry, but the tears filled my eyes, I had to walk away.

But Sherlock caught my elbow and pulled me against him, eyes locked on each other. He pushed me back against the counter by him hips, and his lips pressed on to mine softly, they were warm and silky to the touch, it was better than I could have ever imagined. His head moved back and he smiled, his mouth was on mine again, slightly open, I knew Sherlock hadn't done this before, so I took control. My hand slipped round and cupped his cheek, he responded in kind and melted in to me. I flicked my tongue against his bottom lip and he moaned slightly, this was so much hotter than I anticipated. With one swift movement Sherlock grabbed my arse and pulled me up, sitting on the work top, I wrapped my legs around him and pulled out hips together, his erection pushed against mine. As he kissed me again our chests were together and the pressure was perfect. Sherlock opened my mouth with his own and his tongue brushed mine agonisingly. He played at this for so long, just teasing at my lip, the gentle pull of his teeth on my bottom lip was killing me, but then he thrust his tongue in my mouth and I made noises I didn't think were possible from just the feeling of his lips.

I jerked my hips forward and Sherlock pulled at my hair, smashing our lips together harder. Then his hands were under my arse again, lifting me up. Sherlock's gripped at my waist. Before I knew it I was lying back on the sofa, Sherlock's legs straddled over me.

"I've been waiting to do that for so long." Sherlock's words were fractured by his panting.

"Never would have guessed." I smiled against his mouth and he increases the pressure.

We stayed locked in this position for what seemed like hours, we never got to dinner, we broke every so often to say something that would heighten the heat between us. Today could not have been more perfect. I felt as if a great weight had been lifted, I had finally told him that I loved him, but something nagged at me...

Did he love me too?

Chapter Text

John Watson's secret blog,

I don't know what day it is, I don't know what time it is, I know nothing of anything anymore.

My mouth moves, but I do not speak.

My eyes open, but do not see.

My heart beats, but am I really living?

The words I need to say, they taste so sour. I vowed not to say them, not now, not ever. If I say them they'll be true.

Sherlock Holmes: The man who changed my life in so many ways, and I loved him for it. To think I would not be the man I am today is impossible, and it was all down to him. I am so very strong when we are together, it is only that I am with Sherlock that I feel whole, like nothing in the world can stop me. He fills me with such unimaginable joy, and I am consumed with thoughts of him.

So what do I do now?

I must break my own rule, to speak those unspoken words...

My love, Sherlock Holmes, is dead.

That night, it had been so very perfect, we just kissed and held each other, being alive in that moment was utter perfection. But within twenty-four hours of our first kiss... He... Well he was gone.

When I close my eyes, I see him leaning forward, coat billowing in the wind behind him, then when I wake I call his name, but he never stops falling, he never stops being dead.

His words resonate in my skull, never breaking, all I hear.

"Goodbye John." With that, my gut wrenches at an invisible force. 

I ache, Mrs Hudson comes by some days to comfort me, I don't talk, I just stare, not at her, but at the nothingness that is left behind. I can't seem to find a way out, I am alone in the world once again. No matter how many cards they send, or how many sympathetic hugs I get, I am alone.

It's hard to describe what if feels like when you lose everything you've ever lived for . I can feel the empty pit in my stomach, sometimes I push my fists in to it, just to feel something, even if it is just aching. I have forgotten everything of a real like, all I can recall are his words, I repeat them back to myself, then feel my joy rip away in slashes as I know I shall never hear the sound of his voice again...

With that knowledge I am done, done with not seeing Sherlock, done with having nothing to live for. I know how to stop feeling like this.

I shall simply not live.

I guess you could call this my note.

I ran to the kitchen, breath catching with excitement. 

Not long now, and we'll be together. 

I grabbed a bottle of of aspirin, I was going to end this now. I hadn't felt this happy in over a over a month.

Finally. I thought. Finally I'll be with you. 

I felt the smile spread across my face and I wrenched open the bottle. My heart stopped, a small piece of paper dropped out and fell in to my hand, I don't know if I could bare to read it. I unfolded it slowly and the pain of fear stabbed through me, my hands trembled at the words:

'I believe in you John Watson. I believe you will remember.


This wasn't real, he wouldn't make me live a life without him. So I carried on, and pulled open the freezer, grabbing the bottle of vodka laying in the top. This was MY life and I would end it.

But again, a note, scrawled in Sherlock's handwriting:

'Remember John, remember my words


Something changed in me. My mind worked faster in those few minutes than it ever had before. But I DON'T REMEMBER. My hands went to my head and pulled at my hair, clawing at my scalp in frustration and a choked out tears of agony.

Then I felt him at my side. I turn and see Sherlock standing next to me, and I feel so very alive again. I know it's not really him, I can see the faint shapes of furniture through his chest.

"You're here." My words shook, I don't know why I spoke to him, it felt so right though.

"I am always here John." He was whispering. His words, my words, were in the room with me, which is something I had never believed to be possible again. Sherlock moved his hand up and extended his fingers, I placed my palm against it, I could almost feel the warmth. I went to entwine our fingers but I felt nothing, just the emptiness of a hallucination.

"But you aren't are you." I fought back the sobs, I couldn't cry in front of Sherlock.

"I will be, as long as you want me, I am here." Rage bubbled inside of me, rage that wouldn't be contained.

"You told me you'd always be back." I spat "You lied to me. How could you lie to me when you know I loved you more than life itself, you won't be back now, and you never will."

Sherlock leaned in, his ghostly figure blurring slightly, he kissed my cheek, but I only felt cold.

"Remember. Remember everything I told you that night. You do know, think-THINK." His forehead pressed to mine with no feeling "Please John." I could hear desperation in his voice, and he faded away, I grasped at the air.

Please, give me five more seconds.

But he was gone, leaving alone once again. I stood, frozen, tears thickened my cheeks and I wretched at the whole that grew back inside me.

I noticed the bottle of vodka in my hand, which had gone down in volume from when I got it from the freezer, I let go. I knew it had smashed on the floor, but I didn't care. Walking to the sofa, the glass pierced my feet, but I didn't feel it, my body was numb.

I thought for a while, obsessing, Sherlock knew this would happen, he even knew how I would kill myself, and stopped me. He didn't want me to be alone, Sherlock wouldn't do that, so what did he mean 'remember'? I draw no conclusions and go back to the only solid foundation in my life. If I felt pain I knew Sherlock's memory was alive, and all the hurtful comments in the press aren't true. There is one thing that guaranteed me this most tormenting beauty:

My love, Sherlock Holmes, is dead.

And I am lost...

Chapter Text

John Watson's secret blog, 1 Year after.

"How have you been?" Sherlock's voice was gentle, his hand lightly brushing the back of mine.

"I've missed you." My voice trembled just at the site of him.

"I know you have, I've missed you too, it's been so long. I'm sorry I left you, I couldn't bare it." The words I had longed to hear were teetering on his lips.

"I love you, so very much, and I forgive you." I leaned in and kissed his soft lips, I felt the rush, it was heavenly. 

"I love you too John, and I can not spend a day living without you." He cupped my face and kissed back.

"Then why did you leave for so long? It killed me." A tear rolled down my face and Sherlock tried to wipe it away.

"You know why, and you know why this can never be real." And I did. Sherlock raised himself from the chair.

"Just another minute, please, don't go yet." I had started crying so quickly. Sherlock headed for the door, but when he turned, the face that stared back at me was not his own. "Sherlock's dead, and he can't love you anymore." Moriarty's voice chilled me to my core. 

"No, he did love me, I know he did." I was stood, my hand balled into fists.

"He'd be here if he did. Goodbye John, catch... You... Later." As he mimicked Sherlock's words it was clear there was nothing left of him. Moriarty walked out the door.  I bolted to it, but he had gone.

Then it was over. Again.

Ten months ago when I had the bottle and pills in my hand, ready to end my sorry existence, I saw Sherlock for the first time and it made me feel alive, and for those few moments I felt like there was a shred of hope left in the world. So I had to do all I could to see him again. I tried all I could, but nothing worked, seeing Sherlock consumed all my time, and I was fired from the surgery, but I could not stop.

A few months back Greg had come round, making a bad excuse, something about needing to borrow a book, I saw straight through it of course, Mycroft had sent him to spy on me.

"Do you fancy a drink?" Greg asked, prolonging his time to pry in to my business.

"Yeah, but do you mind if we stay in? I don't really like to go out anymore." Greg looked at me like he had wanted to say something, but stopped himself.

I drank too much and Lestrade had to lead me to my bed before he left. But I didn't sleep, my thoughts were unfocused and random, but all lead back to Sherlock, when I opened my eyes, he was there, sitting on the end of my bed, the moonlight through my window lit up his face and I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

We spoke for a few minutes, I told him I missed him and he tells me he loves me, the very words I had longed to hear while Sherlock was alive. But then he fades away again and I'm left remembering that it isn't really him. I spoke, a long time ago, of Sherlock being my drug that I couldn't quit, well now my supply has run out, so I made my own.

I have to think, and think hard, the next morning about how I saw Sherlock, and when I realised I was so overwhelmingly happy. When I am of sound mind, pain and loneliness enthral me, and clouds all judgement, but when I drink, my mind is opened up to it's full capacity, and I see him, so vividly. Though there was something about Sherlock, what he says without fail, every time;

"Remember John, remember my words."

I know not what he means. I just accept his words, and embrace his company.

From that day I seized every opportunity to see Sherlock, in front of me, so I drink, almost everyday, I drink till my face is numb with it, and we talk. This works so well, but as weeks pass I have to drink a little more, just to see him for a little less time. But this time it had gone so badly wrong, and Moriarty had taken the place of my beautiful Sherlock. I needed something stronger to get me to see Sherlock, and that's what I would get.

It didn't take me long to find the right guy in the right club. I was so out of place in there, and I was so uncomfortable, I needed a drink, badly. I passed a few whispers round some of the more shifty-looking club goers and was eventually pointed in the direction of a tall stocky man, in his early twenties, that was stood in the corner doing his level-best to look inconspicuous. 

"Alright?" I shouted over the music that resonated around the room. The guy looked me up and down and half-smiled.

"Hi, and who are you?" His voice was deep and ominous.

"John, someone told me you might be able to help me." I was much more at ease than I expected.

"And what would you like help with gorgeous?" It was odd to hear those words from another guys mouth, I had never even thought about another person since Sherlock, and never thought about another guy ever. Aside from the one time I had a wank and pictured Lestrade doing it, I'm not proud, but it happened.

"Well, a guy over there told me you'd be able to help me get some.. Well, some um..." My voice trailed off, I felt like if I said it that it became so much worse.

"Coke?" The guy grinned back at me and I nodded apprehensively. "You're new to this, I can tell. So how about I sort you out with a gram?" 

"Yeah, sure, how much is that?" I sounded so stupid, but I needed this.

"Well, usually I'd say sixty-five. But because you're so damn hot, I'll say sixty." I didn't smile, I wasn't charming, I just fished out the money from my pocket.

"Do you want some company?" He was leering at me, and I did not feel right.

"No thanks, I'd rather do this on my own." I had the three twenties in my hand and stuffed them into his.

"Well that's a shame, we could have had some fun." His finger stroked my cheek and I squirmed away. "Message received, here you go, I'll give you my number, you should give me call, we can always share next time." He winked again and yanked at my arm, scrawling down a number in the sharpie he pulled from his pocket. "My name's Joe by the way." He added, slipping the bag into my hand.

"Thanks, I'm going."

"Goodbye John." I felt his eyes on my back as I walked away.

I walked back to 221B, I couldn't abide talking to people anymore, so a walk home in the cold was my obvious preference to a cab ride. The tips of my ears were numb and my nose was reddened by the wind. I opened the door to the flat and immediately went to the cupboard in the right corner of the kitchen and pulled out the bottle of whisky that I had left from Christmas, I was so desperate, I needed it, not even Sherlock anymore, I need the burn in my throat and the absence of my mind. I took a few mouthfuls before crossing to the sofa. By the time I had racked up the nerve to get the bag out, I had chucked down half the whisky and I was too dreary to care. 

I hadn't done this before, but I knew what to do. I tipped out a little of the coke from the bag in a line, it was practically glowing against the dark brown of the coffee table. I had seen it before, so I got my bank card and straightened the powder into a line. It then dawned on me that I would need something to take it with, I walked around the flat for a few minutes before remembering I had a twenty left in my wallet. I rolled it up tightly, those last few seconds marked the end of my life, and I was so very aware of that:

This is for Sherlock, you need him don't you? You want to hear his voice and feel his touch. You want to know, if only for a few minutes that you are not alone. This how to do it. Come on John, take the leap.

I took it. The burned my sinuses like ice and they were numb instantly. My head threw back on the sofa, and I just waited. I had all the windows, door and curtains closed, but when I opened my eyes, everything was so bright and crisp. I looked to the corner and there he was, standing tall and his eyes hot on me.

"Sherlock." I gasped, my voice was fuller with relief than I had ever heard it.

"John, how has it been so long. I've been dying to see you." He looked at me and his face cracked in to a smile "Perhaps not the best choice of words." He began walking towards me and I raised myself from the sofa.

"I love you." I was faintly aware of the blaze behind my eyes.

"I love you too, John." He paused and looked nervous "Can I- Well can I kiss you? I know we have before, but I just think-" I clasped my hands either side of his face and pressed my lips to his, I tried to convince myself that cocaine didn't make it seem real, and that Sherlock was really here, with me.

"Never leave me again." I knew this couldn't happen, but now I had found my way to see him when I want.

"Never." Sherlock took control of our kiss now and pushed me against the wall, I hit it with a slight groan "Sorry, did I hurt you?"

"No, just stay here, don't go." I panted.

"I won't go."



Sherlock's words were etched in to my mind.

But he lied. He did go, and I am back to being alone. Sherlock stayed for about two hours and then told me he had to go. I cried, so very hard and uncontrollably, my chest ached with the tears and my cheeks were swollen and red. But my sobs of pure agony were not heard. The only thing that kept me alive was knowing that I could have all of this again, tomorrow.

And I would. I would go to the ends of the earth to see him, and that's what I shall do. I looked down at my arm to see Joe's number smudged on my arm. I will most certainly be using that again.

I spent the rest of the night suffering through the pang in my stomach, I hadn't eaten properly in two days...

John Watson's secret blog, 380 days after.


'Joe, It's John, call me. I need you



I had started to sign off my texts, like Sherlock, it made me feel even closer to him. I had used the gram up that I bought in the club and it had been three days since I saw him, so I turned to the only person willing to help me through all of this.


'John? From the club?'





'Well Hello sexy, to what do I owe this pleasure? ;)'


'I need more



'Quite the different man from who I saw shaking in the club that night.'


'Can you get me some? I need some.



'Sure thing, how about you come and see me today?'


'Yes, god, thankyou. Where do I go?



'79 Santos Road. Wear something hot and I'll bring down your price ;)'


'Just the coke is fine.



'For now I'm sure ;)... Come by whenever you want.'


'Be there soon,



The flirting didn't phase me, the drugs didn't phase me, the fact I was now addicted with no way back didn't phase me. The only thing that stopped me in my tracks was the knowledge that it may not work, and Sherlock may not be there every time, the feeling haunted me.

I downed three straight Vodkas before leaving, I hated be out in the open where people could see me, but the walk over Putney bridge,with the wind over my face was invigorating. 

Once I had walked over Putney Bridge I needed a little more help to find Santos Road, I asked a few passers by but I seemed to get turned up noses and disgusted looks in return, which was a pure reflection on myself. I wasn't eating properly, my eyes were red rimmed and blood-shot and I had bothered to change my clothes in three days.

I surprised myself, I hadn't worried or hesitated on knocking on the run down black door. The door opened and Joe looked incredible, I hated myself for betraying my love for Sherlock, but he did look incredible. His hair was black and messy, and a few days of stubble was dusted across his chin, he wore a white shirt and black trousers, how could he look so damn good?

"Hello again, come in." He had positioned himself deliberately so that out chests would touch when I walked through the door. 

"Hi."I took time to look quickly around the house, it was polished and modern, like Lestrade's house my the walls were predominantly white, however much this kid made from doing what he does, it was working for him. I handed the Vodka to him "Want to make this fun?" I had brought it to drink when I needed it, but seeing Joe like that, it was hard to resist.

"My, you've changed your tune." He looked me up and down "Not what I'd call conventionally hot, that outfit, but you pull anything off." Just from his words I knew how much younger than me her was, but I didn't care, he had what I wanted.

"Now since you're so cute, how about we do a line each and it's on me?" 

"Sounds good to me." 

He got two glasses and we neck the Vodka, straight. By the time he had racked up the lines I was fit to burst with anticipation. Joe pulled a fifty from his back pocket and rolled it tightly.

"You first." Joe said, his husky voice turned me on a little, but I suppressed it. 

"Sure." I took the fifty and snorted the beautiful line. I had gotten so used to the cold burn over my face and soon it was numb.

Joe seemed to take his line with so much more suave than I.

By the time the high had come on I was waiting for Sherlock to appear, but he was no where in sight, I felt cheated and stupid.

"What's up John." Joe's finger circled at my knee and he shifted closer.

"Nothing, I'm fine." I sat unmoved, Joe's hand started to creep up my leg, and I was inches from caving in.

"In that case, how about you give me what I want." With his last word his hand gripped the inside of my thigh, his fingers rubbing in with the most indulgent sensation.

"No, I can't, I shouldn't." He pressed one finger to my lips and shook his head.

"You want me, I want you. Lets not pretend." I nodded and that was all the confirmation he needed, as his lips locked on to mine, I sat back in the chair and Joe swung one leg over, straddling me. It was different form kissing Sherlock, he wasn't tender, he didn't tease, he got what he wanted and that was all. His tongue was relentless and pushed around my mouth, I moaned slightly at the sensation.

But I needed more control, so with one move I reversed the situation, I was on his lap now and his eyes went wild, his hands grasping my thighs. I began to move my hips, just enough to feel hie erection against my own.

"Oh fuck." Joe was loud and desperate for a little more, which I gave him, with a little more pressure "God John, you're so fucking hot." I loved hearing those from a man, especially one that wanted me as much as I wanted him.

I pushed my hips forward again, rewarding me with a groan of pure lust.

"John, what are you doing, stop." I heard Sherlock behind me and I jumped back off of Joe's lap.

"No Sherlock, I'm sorry, I thought you weren't coming back." My eyes brimmed with tears.

"Who are you talking to, calm down." Joe stood up and tried to touch my arm, but I flinched away.

How could I have done this to Sherlock, when all he did was die to save me, I am the worst kind of person, and I felt it. 

"I'm sorry, I can't"

I left and walked home, Sherlock stayed with me, but I couldn't talk to him now.

What have I done...

Chapter Text

John Watson's secret blog, 394 days after

"Yes, I am an addict. Put simply; I live, breathe and will eventually die an addict. There is no cure for my addiction... Well, there is one, but even the thought of enduring it renders me hopeless, I can't quit, I won't quit!"

My own words repeated themselves in my head, drilling in to my mind the thoughts of a past life. It's all still true, I am still an addict, but it was fueled by two factors now; the need to feel the blaze of cocaine on my cheeks, and the desperation to see the one thing that the world has torn away from me, Sherlock. Put simply; I barely live, struggle to breathe, and will blissfully accept death an addict. And I thrived on this fact.

It has been two weeks since Joe and I kissed, I continued to see him, I needed to, to keep up my supply, he didn't mention the kiss, but Sherlock did. I snorted a line a few hours after getting back from Santos Road, to my embarrassment, I did see Sherlock, he was so upset with me:

"Why did you do that?" Sherlock's voice was pained and a tear ran the length of his cheek.

"I'm so sorry Sherlock, I- I don't know why I did it, it's the coke, it makes me crazy." I spoke through the sobs that followed.

"But, you see me when you're high, how do I know you don't really want to see me, what if you're just crazy." His words stabbed through me, I realised he was right.

"No, it's different with you, the only reason I do this is to see you." I had dropped to my knees, pleading him.

"You knew I would be there, were you trying to hurt me? Because I died, you had to get back at me." Sherlock never met my eye line "Get up John, this is pathetic." With that, rage burned me.

"How DARE you, I have gone to hell and back in search of something that will help me to see you. I waited for you to come, that morning in Joe's house, but you weren't there, I thought you'd never come back to me. So yes, I'm pathetic, but it is at your hands." I realised I was shouting a lot of what I had just said, but it worked, Sherlock's eyes softened and he held out a hand to pick me up from my knees. When I stood, his eyes eventually met mine.

"John, my beautiful Doctor, you have lost all hope, and it pains me that this is so. I need to tell you something, because you have forgotten what I told you all that time ago, after our time in the shower, I told you something, I said not to question it." Sherlock held my face in his hands and looked deeply into my eyes, willing me to remember the words.

"No." I cried through each word, I just don't know. "I can't do it Sherlock."

"Shh." He softly hushes my tears away "You can, I know you can. Because, John. I am you, everything you see has come from you, your subconscious, you thought I was a mere hallucination, but I am so much more. Everything I say and do is what your mind is telling you I would do. If I know what Sherlock said, so do you." It pained me to see Sherlock not acknowledging himself as real, because he was... To me.

"But Sherlock, I can't do it, tell me, please tell me." I pressed a kiss on Sherlock's lips, I had been wanting to do so for a while.

"Fine." He sat himself on one end of the sofa, I wanted to join him, so I lay across it, nestling my head in his lap, his fingers stroking my hair slightly. He spoke softly and slowly "John, I told you, that I'd be back, that I'd alway be back." I felt a slight decrease in hope.

"I remember, but how is that helpful, Sherlock? You can't come back now can you?" I gripped on to his thigh, holding back my whimpers.

"You have to just trust me. You will get through this."

For the next hour, we said nothing, he just held me. We barely spoke, we didn't need to. My head hit the cushion below as Sherlock disappeared, my neck was stiff and painful, I had clearly been holding my head without the support of Sherlock's lap. I reflected on that situation for the next few hours, I decided, I would carry on, to have moments like that with Sherlock. Even is I was going crazy, he was worth it.

But crazy people don't know they're crazy, so I'm fine, aren't I?

Two weeks later, I was desperate, longing. I hadn't had anything in three days. Mrs Hudson had walked in on me, I had my arms wrapped round my knees, rocking back and forth, I knew I must have looked insane. Apparently I was saying Sherlock's name, it concerned her greatly, she has been worried about me since Sherlock died, I just brush her off and go back to torturing myself every time.

I needed some. I grabbed my phone and punched out the letters.

'Joe, can I come and see you today? I really need some.


His reply was almost immediate:

'Of course, come by whenever, xx'

He had started putting kisses on the end of his texts for a week now, I feel nothing, when he flirts, I take no notice.

'See you soon.


I did, as I always did when I go to Joe's house. I grabbed a bottle of vodka and I pulled on my loose shirt and the only hoodie I own: I've learnt to hide my face from those who can only judge. The two hour walk seemed to drag on for days. I could feel the stare of passersby hot on me, it took all I had not to squirm. When I got to Santos Road something was different, but I didn't know what it was. All the curtains were drawn and it seemed gloomier than usual. I did, as I always do, and wrapped in the door three times so Joe knew it was me. It surprised me how quickly he answered when he knew who he was going to see. 

"Well hello there sexy." He leered but it didn't matter.

"Hi, may I?" I gestured into the doorway.

"Of course, come in." Again, he positioned himself so are chests met when I walked through the doorway. 

The inside of his house was different aswell, it seemed to be darker than I had seen it before, and boxes were stacked up in the living room.

"Having a clear out?" I asked, not knowing what to make of it.

"You could say that. I had some new." Joe paused, circling his hand. "Stock, I guess would be the right word. Don't worry, some people are coming by to take it away soon."

"Oh, should I get what I need and go?" I always stayed for a drink, but it didn't feel appropriate.

"Oh no, I couldn't miss my alone time with my Doctor-"

"Don't call me that!" I snapped before I could stop myself "Sorry, I didn't mean to, it's just, someone else used to call me that." I scratched the back of my head nervously.

"Was that the guy you saw two weeks ago?"

My heart froze in my chest. How did he know?

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice? We can talk about this John. I may be young, but I'm not stupid."

I wanted to say that he was stupid, because he sold, took and bought drugs, I wanted to say he was stupid because he liked someone that he couldn't really have. But I can't say it, because I know that I am so much worse. So I decided to shut up.

"Come on, John, you can tell me." I had settled myself on the sofa by this point and Joe knelt down in front of me, the act itself was intimate and sweet. "Who was it?"

"Nothing I-er, just a hallucination I think." I babble out each syllable.

"You and I both know that whatever you saw was so much more that a hallucination. Who was it?" Joe's voice was stern yet forgiving, I couldn't help but enjoy it a little.

"OK, the person I saw was, well he meant the world to me, but he- he died a year ago." I choked out the last part. Joe's hand rested on my knee gently.

"Was he your boyfriend?"

"Yes." I didn't know if that was a lie, me and Sherlock had never discussed it, and we only shared one kiss. "I loved him, so very much. This is why I do what I do, to see him." I hadn't told anyone this, but once I started confessing, I couldn't stop "I used to just drink my mind away until it was so paralyzed of pain that I saw Sherlock, and we could talk." I trembled at the sound of my own honesty. Why Joe? Why now? "But eventually the alcohol no longer worked, it became too difficult to see him, the image became blurry, so I turned to you." Joe's face crumbled and his head dropped in shame.

"John." His jaw shook with the near-tears. "I am, so sorry, I didn't know."

"And why would you, I wouldn't tell anyone." Joe's eyes were teeming with apology, his hand moved up to the top of my thigh and he leaned in to kiss me. His face stopped just centimetres from my own.

"What do you want?" I had never seen him so sensitive.

"Would you think I was pathetic if I said love?" His warm breath was welcomed on my face.

"No, never. I'm probably not what you want, but I can give you what you need, and it doesn't just come in a plastic bag." Joe half-smiled. Truth be told, I didn't know if I wanted him or not, but at that moment, this felt right:

"Help me." Joe knew what I meant, and he pressed his lips lightly against my own. It was on odd feeling, previously I had been high, but now I was me... Well, the closest representation of me that had been since Sherlock died. But this kiss was definitely different, it was soft and rich with nerves, from both parties. When he broke away, his eyes locked on to mine.

"Are you OK?" Joe's voice shook with anticipation.

"You- You." I paused to arrange my words "You made me feel normal." It felt so stupid to say, but it was true.

"Is that a good thing?" He said, retracting his hands, it was the first time I had seen him unsure of himself.

"I haven't felt normal in a year, I needed something, someone to bring me back down to earth." 

Joe said nothing and slipped his hand around the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss, slightly more enthusiastic than previously, but slow. It felt good to be close with someone, but I couldn't help but to think back to Sherlock, I wasn't high so I didn't know how he would feel about this.

"I'm a mess." I said into the kiss, I needed him to know what he may have been getting in to.

"Then I'll help you. John, I may not be perfect, but I can take care of you. I'll help you forget your boyfriend." 

"But, I don't want to forget him, I want to wake up and not feel like I want to die because he's not in my life anymore." 

"Then that is what we will do." I could feel his thumb brushing my cheek lightly. 

Half an hour had passed, we did nothing, he held me, and I felt warm, he kissed me, and I felt whole, he spoke to me, and I knew I was human again. But it was all interrupted with a loud thud that originated from the front door. 

"Hold on, one second, I'll be right back." He pressed a quick kiss on my temple and I took a moment to reflect on what was happening:

I looked frantically around the room to see if Sherlock was standing, watching. But I saw nothing. I suddenly became so aware that I hadn't drank in hours, and I hadn't had a buzz since last night, I felt liberated and confused. If Sherlock couldn't see me then I could kiss Joe, and feel good about myself. I had no idea if I was wrong to think such a thing, but at that time I didn't care. I was interrupted by shouting at the front door, I listened intently, but could only make out a little of what was said.

"What the fuck do you expect me to do, if it gets brought here I can't turn them away." Joe's husky voice was unmistakable and sexy.

"How about next time you stick to what we said, we don't need this shit." The mans voice was deep, harbouring a thick East London accent.

"Don't you think I know that, but these dickheads don't give a shit what they shove up their nose, I have enough of the last lot to get us through. We can sell this on and forget about it." Joe's voice teemed with anger, a fist slammed on to the wall, who it was, I had no idea.

"Fine, but when it gets back to Paul and Alan, you just know they're going to tell Seb. Get the fuck out my way." I heard a clatter from outside the door and I was joined in the room by a man, twice my size. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.

"Hi." I said, later realising quite how pathetic that was. "I'm-"

"I don't care." The man interrupted, his voice was deep and rough. "Another one of your woeful conquests I assume." The man asked as Joe walked back into the room. I became very aware that my shirt was half open and hanging out and my erection strained against my trousers.

"My boyfriend, actually." Joe's tone was spiteful and smug "So if you wouldn't mind: shut the fuck up." He kissed my forehead and whispered in my ear "Don't worry, he'll be gone soon, gorgeous." I grinned back at him, adjusting my position to be somewhat less, exposed!

"When you're done, help me shift this lot." The man waved his hand in the direction of the boxes.

A few minutes passed, Joe and the man walked back and forth from the boxes to the van outside. Once he had left, Joe slumped back on to the sofa, sighing loudly. 

"Hard work?" I chuckled.

"Something like that, yeah. Joe's hand rested on my knee and squeezed gently.

"Shall I be a good little boyfriend and make you some tea?" Joe's face dropped, I faltered "I mean, unless you were joking, sorry."  

"No, of course not. If that's what you want." Joe's face reddened, it was the first time I had seen him look like a regular person.

"I'll go put the kettle on then." We beamed, no more confirmation was needed.

It occurred to me as I made tea, it had been over a year since I had drank something that wasn't alcoholic or water. Slowly and surely I saw pieces of myself fitting together, something I had not experienced in what seemed like an eternity. I felt my need to slowly kill my sinuses deteriorate, I still needed Sherlock, but I didn't need to see him. I brought the tea back for myself and Joe, I couldn't help but say.

"Thank you, Joe." I must have looked weak and vulnerable, but it had to be said.

"Don't thank me, I really don't deserve it, you're such a beautiful person, and I helped ruin you. Now, I want to be with you, but we have to leave the coke behind, it's not right for you to take it. And I don't want to be myself anymore." Joe was sincere, he took a deep breath and continued "I just want to be yours."

"Then so be it." I put my tea on the table in front of me and Joe copied. "Care to carry on?" I smiled at my poor flirting and leaned in to Joe.

"Of course." 

Joe crushed my lips with his own, grazing his teeth against my bottom lip, it drove me crazy. His hand slid down my chest, yanking at the few buttons that were still done-up, before I knew it, my shirt was on the floor, shortly followed by his. I began to feel more confident, scraping one fingernail from his jaw, down his neck to his hips. "Is that OK?" I sounded like an inexperienced teenager, pitiful.

"God, yes." Joe breathed out his words "Just. Oh god." I had began rubbing the inside of his thigh, if he wasn't hard before, then most definitely was now. "Jesus, John, fuck." I had done nothing, but I knew I loved the response to it. Joe's hand shot up from my knee to my groin, so close to releasing the strain on my underwear.

"Do it." I panted. Joe's hand ran over, unzipping my trousers, torturously slowly. I was pushed back against the arm of the sofa, I never wanted to move.

An almighty crash came from the front door. "POLICE." Someone bellowed "DO NOT MOVE." I barely had time to zip up my fly before six uniformed officers wearing bullet-proof vests flooded the room. "GET DOWN." Joe immediately dropped on to his knees, clutching the back of his head, I copied and kept my head down. "This is a drugs raid, you move, you will be prosecuted."

I had seen this many times on police dramas, never did I think I would be in the situation myself, I felt lower than I thought ever possible. What had I done? I saw myself kissing Joe, and the air emptied my lungs. I heard myself telling Joe I wanted him, and it felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach. Then I saw myself, watching Sherlock fall, my life shattered once again, suddenly my life had a hole in it, bigger than before, because I was no longer John Watson, I was a cheap imitation of myself and who I once was. How dare I breathe the air that others breathe, how dare I live a life that another may never have, how dare I pretend to be one of them. 

I doubled over with the overwhelming pain, I repeated and whispered to myself "I'm so sorry Sherlock, forgive me. Please Sherlock, I love you, I'm sorry, so very sorry." the words fell from my mouth, over and over. I was vaguely aware of the shout from the officers, I had taken my hands off my head. But then, through the yells of men around me, and the death of my thoughts, I heard one word said, from a voice so familiar I could not bring myself to meet his gaze:

"John." Greg's voice was confused and angry "What the hell is going on."

I could only just form the sentence "It's a drugs bust." 

"I know that, what the fuck are you doing here?" Greg grabbed me by the collar, pulling me to my feet "Out. Now." He demanded "He's coming with me, deal with him "Move." He said to the other officers, he shoved me out the door.

"John, are you with them?" Joe pleaded.

"Shut it." Lestrade called over his shoulder "I don't want to hear it. MOVE." He shouted once again, and I was out the front door. "Get in the car." 

I knew I shouldn't question it, so I just did it. The car was silent, and I didn't know where he was going to take me. Greg got his phone out, angrily punching the keys on his display. He hadn't looked at me in the eye since he said my name, we drove in silence.

"Greg, I'm sorry-"

"Save it." He interjected "I don't want to hear any of you shit, just shut up and let me drive." Greg gritted his teeth and sped up to well above the limit.

It didn't take long for me to realise where we were going. "Oh god, please don't make me go in."

"I said shut the fuck up." I did.

Mycroft's house appeared darker somehow, that's probably because I knew what would happen once I stepped inside. We walked to the front door, still saying nothing. Greg knocked on the door, we waited what seemed like hours before it opened with an ominous creek.

"Oh, John, what have you done." Mycroft said. He gestured me in. When I looked back Mycroft's arms were wound tightly round Greg and he whispered into his ear softly "I'm sorry you have to do this, my love." I felt it shoot to my heart, even through my broken life, I could still see true love.

Greg turned back to look at me for the first time, his eyes were read raw. Had he been crying? Over me?

"Through here." Greg said, cracking in his tone. "I won't be long." Greg said over his shoulder to Mycroft. 

I entered the room I had been in many times, it had been where Sherlock sat shirtless refusing to get changed, it had been where I'd sipped tea and falsely smiled at Mycroft's insufferable assistants, but now it promised so much more; sorrow, pity and anger.

I turned back to see Greg walking towards me, fast paced, before I knew what had happened I felt my jaw slacken, and the force of Greg's fist knocked me sideways. It numbed my cheeks but riled me. Once again, his fist impacting my cheek, my eye began to swell. I hedged my bets and threw my fist and Greg's face, he moved and caught me as I fell forward.

"What the fuck have you done to yourself? Do you see what's happening? For months you have ignored me, you've ignored Mycroft, you don't get a choice anymore." Greg yelled, not with anger but with love, I didn't know how much our friendship meant to him, until now.

"I'm sorry, I just." I couldn't finish my sentence, because I didn't know what the end of it was.

"No, John, just nothing. You are an incredible person. Intelligent and funny, you threw it away, for what?" He paused "For what?" The second time, he yelled. "John, answer me, what have you thrown your life away for?"

"Sherlock." I spat. It was gone now, my secret, I had no hope of retaining my discretion now. Greg's face dropped and realisation spread over it.

"Oh, John, no. What has happened to you?"

I told him... Everything, the drink, the coke, seeing Sherlock, everything. I cried, he cried, it appears that true friendship only shows when you need it most. Greg held me, and comforted me. When Mycroft came in they spoke how I'd never imagine them to, they spoke softly and told me I wasn't alone anymore, they told me I was to live with them and they'd help me, to get out of the cocaine and the mindless drinking, and more importantly learn to live without Sherlock.

"Thankyou." I whispered as I fell asleep on their sofa.

"The only thanks I need is for you to be you again." Mycroft said, he slept in the chair on the other side of the room, with Greg curled up in his lap. They wouldn't leave me for the first few weeks.

My love was never broken, it had just been misplaced.

Chapter Text

Months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds... They don't matter, not anymore.

It's been two years since Sherlock killed himself, but for the first time since then, I have felt like me.

I have been staying with Greg and Mycroft for just under a year now, it never failed to surprise me that the love between two people could be so great that just being around it brought me back to life a little. 

The first week was hard: Mycroft never let me out of his site, and Greg had taken time off just to make sure Mycroft wasn't getting too tired, one of them was always awake, to make sure I was OK. Just thinking about it I feel a flutter of affection for them both, something I never thought I'd experience. To see them together was mesmerizing, so in tune with what the other was thinking. Mycroft often got worked up and angry if I was too insistent about having a drink, but it only took a look from Greg and Mycroft melted into his gaze, to see such love between two people was captivating to say the very least. Though I was pushed to the very boundaries of my comfort zone, I occasionally saw Mycroft kiss Greg's cheek, but then they working forward to kissing outright in front of me, I still didn't mind, I was still in my heart ache coma of an existence, but then to wake up, Mycroft pinning Greg to the wall, his legs wrapped round his waist was all too much.

"Guys." I had told them. "I do so love that you're helping me, but if you want to do things like that, you really can leave me alone, Anthea is in the next room, she won't let me touch a drop."

It took a day or so convince them, but they backed down and began spending the night times in their own bed. By the sounds I heard from the room, they were glad of the exclusion.

The first week of completely staying away from the drink and the drugs had been hard, every second was like I was losing Sherlock again, the familiar wrench in my gut and pull on my heart nearly tore me to pieces. Being forced to be myself played dirty tricks in my head, whenever I found myself thinking I could get through it, my mind would shun me for the thought and I would be greeted by the site of Sherlock stepping in torturous grace off of the roof of St Barts, it brought me back down to earth several times with a sickening thud. 

But it became easier. The agonisingly slow seconds became faster, my longing to burn my throat and nose lessened to a point in which a day was liveable. My inner monologue that I had grown to loathe softened, I believed in myself more, and it spoke volumes.

Stop hating yourself. It isn't your fault. You've punished yourself enough. You're loved, so loved. You didn't kill Sherlock.


Those words swam round my head on a daily basis, some more than others. But at the end of every day I would make sure I felt a little guilty for not focusing all my thoughts on Sherlock. He still consumed every fiber of my being, and I didn't his this fact. But I was no longer filled with desperation to see him, just to honor him. If I had one aim in life it was to clear the scorned name of Sherlock Holmes.

About four months back, shortly after I had made what everyone saw as a full recovery, I knew what I needed to do. I sat with Mycroft and Greg and an unidentified assistant of theirs. They had gotten themselves PA's and secretaries a while before I lived with them, since Sherlock's death the buzz around the relationship between "Scotland Yard's top detective, and the brother of fake genius, Mycroft Holmes." had increased ten-fold. 

"I need your help." I had began, my hands shook a little, as was habit in recent days.

"Anything." Greg said, leaning forward inquisitively.

"No, John." Mycroft stated. I hadn't been surprised that he knew what I was going to ask, just that he had said no.

"Why not? I know I'd feel better, I can't cope with it." 

"No, out of the question, there is enough publicity over mine and Greg's relationship, for reasons I shall never understand, so I will not have you drag yourself into the spotlight to make an overly sentimental speech."

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Greg spoke up.

"John here wants to clear Sherlock's name by speaking about it to the press and anyone who will listen. But it won't help, look what it did to Anderson." The room fell silent, Philip Anderson's name had not been spoken in the Holmes-Lestrade household since he had outed them both on BBC news, after having rambled on about his theories on Sherlock's faked suicide. It hadn't taken long for Mycroft to make the phone call and have him fired the very same day.

"Yes, quite, but I don't intend to announce your engagement or tell the world you're looking to adopt. I simply want to tell them that Sherlock wasn't a phony, it kills me to hear what they say about him, none of it's true and people need to know." 

"Greg and I are not getting married, and not to mention I find children to be both insufferable and unnecessary in out relationship." Greg glared at him.

"Ignore him, he's in a foul mood because I'm going away next weekend. Surely John can do something to help clear Sherlock's name, Mycroft?" Lestrade said, clearly distracted by something.

"No." Mycroft said sharply "Remember Greg, dear, he can't" He was giving Greg a you-know-what-I'm-talking-about-so-shut-the-fuck-up look.

"What is it?" I could see something was being hidden from me.

"Nothing, John, don't concern yourself with this business." Mycroft face changed, he almost looked sentimental "Listen, you've come so far over the last eight months, don't throw that away just to publically humiliate yourself because you don't have the facts."

"Then tell me them, I know you're hiding something. TELL.ME.NOW."

"John, I-"

"Moriarty was killed on the roof of St Barts that day." Lestrade said before he could stop himself . My heart plummeted and I froze.

I couldn't believe that i had been lied to, I knew at the time that the rest of the country had been lied to also, but I didn't are about them. News reports, gossip mags and Mycroft himself had spoken of Moriarty still being at large. Of course the media stuck to calling him Richard Brook. I sat silently for a moment, the words wouldn't come to me.

"He'd... Dead?" 

 "Yes, John. Just before Sherlock jumped." Mycroft paused, looking back at me. "He shot himself, in the back of the head. We couldn't tell you or anyone, a large part of his network was still active, if they thought he was alive they'd just await their next instruction. It wasn't an option to tell you."

"Then why are you telling me now?" I couldn't understand.

"The consequences of not telling you are far less than letting you loose in the public eye." Greg had spoken up.

"You knew?" I paused, Greg looked at his feet coyly but Mycroft held his stare. "I see, so you have to shagging the British government to get any information here." My temper raised but I suppressed it somehow. I paused and reflected on what I had said, I felt awaul, how could I say that after all they had done for me. "I'm sorry." They said nothing and bobbed their heads in acceptance "I just- I need people to know he wasn't a liar."

"John, however hard it is, you have to wait, the world will know, just give it time, please." Greg said, Mycroft cutting in.

"They will, and not long, under six months I believe, can you hold off until then?"

I could, I knew I could, just the thought of his name being cleared pulled me through.

Mycroft kept his promise, four months down the line reporters stood outside The Old Bailey saying the words I'd always dreamed of:

"Today brings proof that after extensive police investigations, Richard Brook did indeed prove to be the creation of James Moriarty."

Interspersed with this were the words I had hoped to avoid:

"But sadly, all this comes too late for the detective who became something of a celebrity two years ago."

Too late.

The reporter was right, it was all too late. The moment I heard those words a thought entered my head, it was an old, not unfamiliar thought, I hadn't truly contemplated it for two years since the very first time.

It rolled around my head for a week, I wasn't scared of the thought, I welcomed it. 

It became at home in my mind, but I knew it was time for the world to know.

The game... My game, is over.

It took a few days to decide how to do it, but I knew it was going to happen. I needed to end this, Sherlock's name was cleared, I had nothing but my presence to give the world. Mycroft and Greg had no idea, of course, I hid it well. I prepared myself the night before, I found my gun, and said a longer than average goodnight to them both.

The two hour drive out of London dragged on, but I wasn't scared, I was calm, so much calmer then I had been for the past two years. I stood, unmoving in the middle of no where, surrounded by the trees, it was natural, it was right.

"Sherlock." I spoke, quietly, my final goodbye to the world "I suppose you could call this my note, no one will hear it though, which I think I like, just me and you, the way it should have been. Just a few final thoughts, just so I know they're out there: You were... Everything, not simply the love of my life, but everything you did or said, I lived by, so my life is dedicated to you, and my god I hope it does you some form of justice." I paused, there were no tears, I just had to take it in. "I asked you for a miracle, you wouldn't have heard, but I wanted you to be alive, after all this time, I realised I was wrong. Everyone gets one miracle in their life, no matter how little they may deserve, or how unexpected it may be, everyone gets one. So the reason I didn't get mine, is because I already had it, my miracle came to me in a stuffy lab in St Barts. You are my miracle, Sherlock, I don't why it took me till now to know, but you were an exception to my every rule, and I adore you for it. Thank you, so much. So, to every adventure we have had, I regret nothing." One last thing, just one "Oh, and Sherlock, if you are alive, if by some extraordinary reason you aren't dead and I got what I always dreamed of, know that I'm sorry, because I know you will go through what I went through, and it destroyed me, so sorry. For what is my last breath, goodnight, Sherlock, we'll be together soon."

I raised the gun to my temple, at peace with the world.

But I felt the warmth of arms wrapped around me, I stilled.

"John, I love you, stop this." Sherlock's voice made my blood run cold.

It was warm, and beautiful, and scary. He felt real, solid and alive, unlike any time I had ever seen him before. I didn't know what was happening.

"John, let go of the gun, I'm here." It wasn't him, my mind lied. 

"I'm so sorry." I raised the gun again.

"Do not end your beautiful life, I am here now." My imagination was painfully vivid, every word just teamed Sherlock, but it was pure deceit. 


"What a cruel trick for my mind to play on me, goodbye Sherlock." I felt the arms tighten as I pulled the trigger..

Chapter Text

"What a cruel trick for my mind to play on me."

I squeezed the trigger.


I pulled it again.


And again, and again, and again.

Click. Click. Click.

I didn't understand why it wasn't working, I was desperate for it to be over, but nothing was working... This was Mycroft, it had to be.


My blood ran cold as I turned to see him staring back at me.

"You." I had a million things to say, but I was too lost.

"It's me, John, I promise."

"No, it's not, stop lying to me." It wasn't loaded, but I held the gun out, then back to my head. "You died, I'm not crazy, not anymore, you aren't real, so j-just stop this." 

Sherlock splayed his hands "John, you need to calm down, I didn't die-"

"Yes you did."

"No- No I didn't. I can't explain it all now, but you have to trust me." I said nothing, I didn't know if I believed him, so I said nothing "Call Mycroft, he'll tell you everything, just please, John, you have to believe me. Don't you see, he knew what you were planning to do, that's why it's not loaded, he called me to help." He paused, slightly choked "I had no idea what this was doing to you, and I can't tell you how sorry I am."

Something came over me, I couldn't understand why he thought he could just apologise "You're sorry?" I was done with not believing, it didn't matter "It's been two years and you're sorry? I'm calling Mycroft." My hands shook as I dug my phone from my pocket, the ring tone seem to drag on for an age.

"John?" Greg's voice said "Is it you? did Sherlock get there in time?" 

It was all I needed, I didn't care if they knew I was OK or not, not for now at least. I hung up the phone and turned back to Sherlock, a smiled raised on his lips.

"You're... You're really here." Somehow I still didn't feel better for it. My life for the past two years had been waiting for this moment, but now it was here, I hated it. So I lunged forward, hands flat against his chest, Sherlock fell back silently. I couldn't hold myself and I fell forward, my knees hit his thighs, but still he said nothing. "Two years." I said, anger burned and I started to cry, just slightly to begin with, but soon it became painful "Do you realise what you did?" I couldn't help it, my fists collapsed down on his chest, again and again. There was no effort or hatred behind it, just the pain of the last two years, pouring from me. I kept hitting, I couldn't stop myself, but Sherlock, he just lay there and took it.

"John." My fists were weak now "John stop." He grabbed my wrists and held me till I stopped pulling away. We stilled for a moment, I stared at him, I saw the hurt, I don't know how, but I knew that the last two years had been painful for him too.

"Sherlock." I breathed.

"Not now John." He pushed me to my back and his knees were either side of my hips. 

His lips crashed down on me with and urgency that had built for two years, my hands were in his hair, pulling him in closer. Sherlock's hands cupped by face and pulled back, breathing heavily. "I'm sorry."

"Not now." My voice was uneven "Sherlock, I-"

"No, John, let me." He  pulled back a little more, but I gripped tight "I had to do it, Moriarty may have died, but his network lived, and-" He looked back at me and away again "Let me tell you how I did it."

"I don't care. It never mattered how you could come back, I just wanted you back... No, I needed you back." I saw it in his eyes, they brimmed with tears "Are you going to leave-"

"I love you." He said quickly, as if the words couldn't be said fast enough "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but the night you said it, I got scared. John, I love you so much."

There were no more words to say, he leaned in and kissed me. It was different from the last time, there was no desperation, just pure relief, we were together, nothing mattered, just him and me. However hard we tried we still weren't close enough, I pulled at his coat jacket and he pushed against my chest. There was one way to be closer, I opened my mouth and Sherlock's tongue was slick across mine. Everything was just a raw need to have each other, I felt his teeth graze my lip and I gave in, a smile raised on my mouth.

"Are you Ok?" Sherlock pulled aways slightly.

"You're back, of course I'm OK. I am so much more than OK. I just- well I just can't help it." Sherlock smiled back, and it was just incredible, to see him there; Happy, and alive.


It didn't seem real and yet it was, every dream I have had for months, was true. I tried to repress that feeling in my stomach, but it came at me hard and fast, my love consumed me so quickly, my stomach knotted and I pulled Sherlock back in my arms tightly. We lay there, holding each other for hours, unmoving. Sherlock lay on his side, arms wrapped around me, our foreheads met in the middle.

"You know we need to talk about this, don't you?" Sherlock whispered. The sun was beginning to set and the night settled into the trees around us, if I had the choice, I would never move from Sherlock's arms.

"Yes." The sad fact of it was, but I didn't want to have that conversation "We do, but can we just stay here a little longer." 

Sherlock pushed his lips to mine momentarily and my stomach knotted "Yes, whatever you want." 

There was a quiet movement of leaves on the ground behind us, Sherlock sat bolt upright.

"Doctor Watson." A man's voice called from behind me, I couldn't see him, most of the light had left the forest floor. "Doctor Watson." He shouted again. 

Reluctantly, Sherlock I seperated and I stood.

"Oh thank god, Doctor Watson, Mycroft was worried that Sherlock didn't-"

"Well I did, so what do you want?" Sherlock interrupted immediately.

"Well, I was sent here by Mr Holmes to, well, take you to the hospital, or to your home, depending on how things." He cleared his throat awkwardly "Well, turned out."

"As you can see, we are fine, can you not leave us to it?" Sherlock asked sternly.

"I was given instructions to take you both home by Mr Holmes."

"I am Mr Holmes." He replied, frustration rising in his voice.

"Yes, I know, but, that isn't quite what I meant and you know it." Mycroft's assistant said shortly.

"Oh will you two shut up." I interjected. "Look, if you must, take us home, but try not to talk during the drive." Sherlock's head snapped up to look at me quizzically. "What?" I asked, bemused.

"You, then, you sounded like-" His voice trailed off and he grinned.


"Well, me." His smile spread across his face.

"Oh what has the world come to?" I teased, a warm feeling spread in me, it was so simple yet so important. Normality!

"Excuse me." The assistant had walked nearly out of sight, I saw his arms flail dramatically.

"We best go." Sherlock muttered "Before someone has a heart attack." We rolled our eyes simultaneously and followed him back to the car.

Though the lighting was minimal I could just make out the car, my eyes widened as I saw the logo, I don't think I had ever been in something quite so... Nice.

"Bentley Continental GT V8 S Convertible." Sherlock tutted. "My brother's taste never changes. Though red is a first for him."

"Ever the surprise, aren't you." I asked, grinning.

"As surprises go I've never had all that much success. Though I do believe today is an exception. don't you?" Sherlock said smugly as he stepped in to the practically glowing car.

"You didn't do too badly, I suppose." I winked, following him in.

I near-sank into the black leather interiors, how a car could be quite so perfect I had no idea.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock whispered as I buckled the belt on the other side of the car.

"What have I done?" 

"Come here." He gestured with a nod of his head, I felt a little stupid. A childish simper raised on my lips as I slid to the other side of the car, Sherlock wrapped his arm and coat round me and hooked my legs over his, I felt the last two years slip away as I nestled my head into his neck.

"Where to, Doctor Watson?" The assistant called from the front seat.

"Home, please." I said absently.

"And where would that be, Sir?" He pressed.

It had then occurred to me that not only had I been staying with Mycroft for nearly a year, but I hadn't been back to the flat since then. I looked up to Sherlock who whispered minutely:

"Are you ready?" I knew that I was, we smiled at each other silently for a moment, I turned back to the driver and beamed:

"221B Baker Street."

The journey was slow, torturously so, Sherlock's hands ran through my hair and I felt myself drop off every so often. We had only an hour to go before we would be home when Sherlock nudged my shoulder, my eyes flickered open to see his hand on my knee. His lips at my ear.

"John, wake up." The low rumble of his voice melted me "I love you." His voice was velvety soft and hushed.

"I love you too." I said, the sleep was still thick in my voice.

Sherlock's fore finger tipped my head to meet his lips. Once they locked I woke up completely, his hands clasped my face and he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing mine lightly. My hands pulled at his shirt, a button coming undone in the process.

"God, I've missed you." Sherlock spoke breathlessly into the kiss. His hands went to my belt, fumbling at the buckle.

"Calm down, Sherlock, you don't want to give Lestrade too much gossip to spread round the yard." Sherlock looked up and scowled at the driver. 

"I suppose so. Damn my brother and his flies on every god damn wall." Sherlock grumbled.

We sat in silence for the remainder of the journey, the occasional kiss on my forehead was a constant reminder of just how perfect everything was, even though lingering in the back of my head was the inevitability of that conversation.

The last few minutes of the journey slipped away from me as I embraced sleep. I didn't dream, for the first time, I didn't think about Sherlock jumping from the roof, I didn't think about what Joe made me do, it was dreamless and it was perfect. When I woke I was confused, for one, I had made it up to the flat on to the sofa of 221B without recollection of doing so by my own accord, but also, I couldn't see Sherlock, anywhere, I listened hard but heard nothing of him.

My heart quickened and panic set in quickly.

Still drunk with fatigue, I stumbled up from the couch.

My stomach tightened and head span as I began to think:

Had I made the whole thing up.

Almost as if the universe heard me, I heard a clatter from the kitchen.

I span back on my heels to see Sherlock in the kitchen, wielding various utensils.

"Sherlock." I laughed.

"Oh no, John, go back to sleep, I wanted to wake you with a cup of tea." It was an incredibly sweet gesture, but I has to address my burning question.

"Thank you. But why, pray tell, are you holding a wok?" He dropped it to the ground and lept back at the crash.

"Ahh, yes, well, it appears I have deleted how to make tea, you see. Disabling Moriarty's network is not quite the thirsty work you may believe it to be."

I couldn't help but to laugh "So, where are you at with making it?"

"I have the bag, that is definite." He paused and swirled back around the kitchen and then faced me once again "John! What is the contraption?"

I sighed "A kettle." 

My eyes rolled back and he tutted back at me.

Once the tea was eventually made we settled back on to the sofa, silence fell between us, we both knew what needed to be said.

"We need to talk about this now, don't we?" Sherlock asked, wincing slightly.

"I'm afraid so."

"Fine." Sherlock began "There were thirteen possibilities once I had invited Moriarty on that roof-"

"I don't care about that." I interrupted. I didn't, I had thought Sherlock knew what we need to talk about.

"What? Why?" He frowned.

"I don't care how you did it, I never will care. Don't you get it? All I needed was you to be alive, and I have that now, the means of you doing so are just... Well they aren't what I care about."

"Right." Sherlock nodded slowly "So what did we need to talk about?"

"Us, Sherlock. There is no point in shying around it, it's been two years, and a lot has happened to the both of us."

"So sorry about that last one by the way." He stared back at me for a moment "John, I will forever be in your debt if you would have me back." 

"Do you not see? I've changed a lot, and what if-" I needed to say it, but it was hard.

"What if what, John?"

"Well what if I am not what you want anymore, I've had so many problems in getting over you, what if you don't like me for it." The tint of embarrassment raised on my cheeks.

"I am here aren't I? You are all I could possibly ever want, all I could ever need, and I will not change my mind, you are perfection personified in my eyes. If anything I should be worried, after what I did to you, what I put you through, will you forgive me?" I couldn't believe the words I was hearing.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I love you, and that will never change, you mark my words." He still looked sad, and it pulled at my chest.

"What if I don't want to be William Sherlock Scott Holmes anymore?" He said, looking into his lap.

"I will have you, no matter who you are."

Then he said it.

The one thing I had longed for, for so long now.

"Will William Sherlock Scott Watson do?"

Chapter Text

"Will William Sherlock Scott Watson do?"

I said yes, of course I said yes.

I told him that it was all I wanted to hear for years. I wrapped my arms around him and refused to let go because I needed him there. I explained to him that though it was hard, everything was worth it for this moment. I wouldn't stop talking about just how much I loved and adored him

"Um... John?" Sherlock said after five minutes of pure silence.

It appears I had said none of this out loud.

"Sherlock, I-" I didn't know the end to that sentence, I had been paralysed by joy.

"Right, if that's how you'd like to be, here it goes." Sherlock stood and brushed down his clothes.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Shut up, John." He relayed bluntly. My heart was in my throat as I realised what he was doing. Slowly he lowered himself to his left knee, his hands trembled as he worked a silver band from his right thumb "Mummy bought me this when I was eighteen, I'm not usually one for sentiment, but this means a lot much to me." He took an unsteady breath and looked me directly in the eye "John." He paused with a nervous laugh, his head shook and he looked down. When he met my eyes again they were rich with love. "John I love you, I will never understand myself why I didn't tell you, but over the past two years it is all I have thought about. You are my everything, no matter how insufferable I am, you keep me right. I don't deserve you but you seem to want me, and for that I can not be more honored. I could ramble on for days about you, and believe my I did. So, I suppose what I really want is everyone to know, and shout it from the rooftops." He paused and grimaced at the accidental joke "Well, you know what I mean. So before I make a complete fool of myself, John Hamish Watson, will you marry me?" His pupils dilated and he bit his lips nervously.

I took a deep breath, I needed a moment, the amount I loved this man entirely consumed me. "Yes." I said, breathless. "Yers, of course I'll bloody marry you." I scooped his face in my hands. 

"Are you sure? I don't want you to-"

"Shut and kiss me before I change my mind." I barely winked before his lips locked on to mine. I melted in to his touch as his arms wound round my waist, I was almost high on the feeling,I recognised it all too well: The feeling of being so elated that my mind ran wild with it, I remembered how engineered this feeling for a year just to see that man I was now kissing. Suddenly I was overwhelmed with every image of a broken me. "Sh-Sherlock." His arms wrapped tighter and he deepened the kiss, humming lightly. "Sherlock, stop." He pulled back, on hand resting on my chest, I tried to avoid the pinning gaze of his green eyes. 

"What is it?" His words brushed my cheek lightly.

"Do you know what happened while you were gone?" We both flicnhed at the words, but he held his stare.

"You moved in with Mycroft and he wanted you gone." His words were greeted with a quirk of one eyebrow.

"Is that all he told you?" 

"Well, yes. He told me that and then the developments on the men that came here and beat me up."

I had forgotten all about it, the men in the flat that tied him to the chair, shortly after I saw Greg and Mycroft together for the very fist time. And then... Of course. Then the man that could only be descried as death had come in to the surgery and told me... What did he tell me.

Then the word hit me like a tonne of bricks.

"Don't worry, he'll be back."  This was not the time to think about it, but I would most certainly need to analyse that later.

"Well, that's not quite the whole story." I cleared my throat and looked away.

"What is it?" Sherlock still sounded positive, but the silence dragged out. "Tell me. Has my brother hidden something from me?" Silence still "John, you better tell me what's going on or I-"

"You." I blurted uncontrollably. "You weren't there, and I was so stupid." I pulled away and sat back in the chair "I couldn't bare to not be with you, but I discovered that when I drank too much I saw you, like a hallucination." Shock was written across his face, as clear as day "But I got to a point where alcohol wasn't enough, it couldn't make my mind go blank, and I needed something stronger."

"John, please... Please tell me you're joking, it isn't funny." 

"I'm not." I drew in a breath and continued "So I found a guy, Joe, he gave me what I needed and didn't judge me for it. But it was all too much, I relied on him and coke so much, it was my life." 

"What else." Anger hitched in his tone and he nearly shouted "TELL ME."

"We kissed, twice. But I didn't feel about him how I did about you, I promise. It wasn't like that." I surprised myself how desperate I was for Sherlock to believe me.

"Then what was it like, John? From what I can tell you didn't care about me at all, you just wanted to get high and get off." Those words from the one man I trusted felt like a blow to the gut.

"No, I wanted to see you. I was broken, Joe was the only one who knew. You weren't there to help me, I thought you were gone."

"I told you it was all a trick, you didn't listen. I said I'd always be back, but you ignored me." Sherlock threw himself up and tore his coat form the hook.

"Where are you going?" I asked, shaken.

"Out." He was pacing back and forth but stopped and looked at me.  

"Do you still love me?"

I longed for a response but I got nothing but the slamming of the door.

I was alone... Again.

I took the time now to glance around the flat, somewhere in the conversations, the kissing and the embraces is had rolled around to eight in the morning, light cracked through 221B and illuminated the dust that laced every surface. Books were stacked high on the desk, unmoved for two years. The furnishings were all still there, but it felt so empty, the only thing filling the room was silence.

Hours passed and Sherlock still hadn't come back, by the time lunch came around I was going out of my mind, the string of texts I had sent remained unanswered and Mycroft was ignoring my calls. The only thing I could do was distract myself. I knew that I would be fine now, Sherlock was alive, whether he loved me or not, all I wanted was him to not be dead. So could I really complain?

Despite myself I hedged my bets and went to the surgery. My prospects weren't great and I'd effectively been in rehab for a year, but I had to try. When I got there I was greeted with eyes thrown open in surprise and the occasional smile, all but Doctor Khan avoided me.

"Good afternoon Doctor Watson." He said, a sly smile rising on his lips.


"What brings you here after, well, it must be nearly two years now?" He glanced at his watch then te clock on the wall.

"Oh nothing, can you tell me where Sa-"

"Do you want to come back?" He interjected.

"How did you know?"

"Because I am better."

"At what?" I said quizzically.

"At everything." He paused for a long moment and finally laughed, slapping my arm slightly. "Just kidding, it was about time you came back."

"Oh, well yes, I suppose. But is there any." I cleared my throat, embarrassed, I hadn't asked for a job since I was fifteen "Um, vacancies?" Yet again, he laughed and slapped my arm

"For you, of course there is. Leave it with me and I'll sort you out." His smile was handsome and warm, I hadn't noticed before just how attractive Doctor Khan was, his skin was soft and pale and his eyes were so dark they were almost black. His muscular chest stretched at the tight black jumper he wore, and with the scraped back black hair all I could see in him was Sherlock.


"Are you sure? I don't want to get you in any trouble." I trembled.

"Anything for an old friend. It's good to have you back Doctor Watson. But if you'll excuse me I have a patient to see." I nodded back at him and a strode down the halway.

Just as a started towards the door I felt a hand on my shoulder and I was being span backwards to meet the eyes of a face I thought I knew.

"John." She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around me.

"Oh... Hi... You." I was searching for a name while I hugged back.

"It's Mary, do you remember me?"

Of course. I had met her wile I was staying at Mycroft's. She asked me to dinner once, but I had to give her the cold shoulder, something didn't feel right about her.

"Of course. How are you?" I smiled falsely.

"I'm not bad thanks. I heard your boyfriend is alive. That must be... Good." She struggled with finding the right words.

"How did you know?"

"Everyone knows. There isn't a person on earth that hasn't heard of the consulting detectives death." She grinned.

That's not strictly true.

"Ahh, I suppose so. I'm happy he's back, of course." 

"I heard your sister and Clara are back together, that's great too." I had negelected to admit I hadn't spoken to Harry since before Sherlock left. I flashed her a tight smile and she nodded in realisation.

Somehow the conversation took us to a small coffee shop on the corner of the street, we sat for at least two hours talking. She asked how Mycroft was and if Greg was keeping him in check. She mentioned Molly: if I had been to see her and then pressed as to why I hadn't. She seem to be asking all manner of personal questions, but my guard was up, something didn't spell right with Mary, but I didn't know what it was. She seemed to know all too much about me and everyone I knew. My thoughts turned to Sherlock, he would know who she was and what she was doing, but I couldn't do it. 

"Do you know how he did it?" She had asked, it was a step too far. I made my excuses and left as soon as I could, I shook off the bad feeling and headed back to the flat, if Sherlock wasn't there by then I'd have to reconsider my options.

But he was there. I could hear the violin as soon as I stepped through the door, it echoed in my ears and it was beautiful, it was a piece he had written suring an old case 'Watson's melody'. I wondered what I should do, he had left in the middle of a blazing argument. I open the door to 221B a slither and the music continued. Once I had pushed it open fully my eyes met with something that made my breath hitch and I stepped back in shock.

There was a man tied to a chair, I didn't recognise him to start with. His face was peppered with blood from hsi nose and mouth, tape was plastered across his face, muffling his words. He writhed beneath the restraints that scraped at his wrists. The man's head turned and I was met with piercing blue eyes, wild with fear. 

I knew those eyes I saw a hundred times but I was never sane enough to care. My hand slapped over my mouth as I realised who it was.


Chapter Text

"Joe?" My voice trembled. The music silenced and Sherlock appeared form the kitchen, his eyes wide. "Sherlock, what the fuck are you doing?"

"John, listen, you need to trust me." He placed the violin on the table and carried on through. "I didn't mean for this to happen, but it became necessary."

"In what world is this necessary? Look at him, he looks like death." I dared to glance at Joe, pain rippling my body, I remembered how I had began to love him.

"Do you think it was an accident? Do you really? Do you think that he just happened to stumble upon the boyfriend of the consulting dective that the greatest powers in the world wanted to get their hands on." Sherlock strode about the room, telling his story.

"Are you saying he works for the government? This is insane." I gaped for a long moment. "Don't bullshit me, Holmes, I want to know, and I want to know now."

"No, not the government, but they certainly run the world." He paused, minutely, a smirk raising.

"Sherlock. Now. I don't want you to tell this in your usual dramatic and flamboyant fashion, you need to just tell me before I punch your gorgeous face." I tripped over the word before I could stop myself, the smile grew on his face before dropping entirely.

"Fine. When I ask you a question just nod or shake your head accordingly, this may get awfully strange very quickly." I nodded. "Do you remember those men that broke into the flat and beat me to a pulp?" I nodded. "Good, and do you also recall the man who came to see you at the surgery that told you he sent those men here?" I swallowed and nodded "Do then subsequently remember not telling me about that?" My head hung in shame and I nodded again "Glad you're up to speed. Well as my brother does, he found out about his little visit and with quite some digging he came out with a name, one Sebastian Moran." Joe's head shot up.

"What the-?" I didn't like at all where this was headed.

"Yes, I thought you might know him, a friend of yours I believe." He ripped the tape from Joe's mouth and he winced painfully.

"You're fucking crazy. I don't know what you're talking about." He gasped.

"Now now, I'm not finished. Mr Moran, for whatever reason, took a strong disliking to me, I believe he may have been in a relationship with our dear friend Moriarty." Sherlock glared at Joe, with an intensity I hadn't seen since he looked Jim in the eye.

"How has this got anything to do with Joe?" Nothing made sense still.

"Well, I am glad you asked. Sebastian and his band of ever so merry men knew what Moriarty was planning, they knew all about what was going to happen on the roof of St Barts, and as such, they knew I would have no choice but to fake my death. So that's where your little friend comes in. Moran hired him, or whatever it is these people do, bought his soul perhaps, to get to you." Sherlock had walked to me now, his face an inch from my own, is finger brushed my cheek.

"John, he's lying." Joe sparked, Sherlock's head whipped back.

"I don't need another reason to hit you so I suggest you shut up." I stilled for a long moment, testing his silence "It never occurred to you, poor, sweet, grieving you, that I was on every television screen, every newspaper in every household world wide."

"No, but what does that mean in the grand sceme of things?" My head ached with the bomb of information.

"Because he didn't know you, did he, or at least that's what you thought. You looked for consolidation in someone who didn't know who you were, so you could try and keep up a mask while you were round him, then he'd help you to feed your addiction, and you thought it was fine because he was helping you. But it was so much more sinister, so much more repelling. You see, he knew who you were, of course he knew, he clearly hadn't been living under a shell for the past three years, and yet he pretended not to. All he had to do was get close, you made it easy for him, and you even started to fall for him a little." I closed my eyes to avoid the pain in Sherlock's. "Which made it all the more better for him to manipulate you." Sherlock was seething, his knuckles were white with the grip he had on the counter top, tears stung at my eyes.

"W-why did he do it then?" I sniffed silently.

"Power, John, always power. And what is a better way to get it than with the greiving Doctor with the hotline to the government."

"Mycroft?" I asked, the pieces settling together to form an ugly picture in my head.

"Yes, if they could get to Mycroft, they could get to me, if they could get to me, then they had Britain on it's knees if they so wished." Nothing was said for a long moment "Of course, all that needs filling in now is the finer details. Like, why did you." He turned to Joe "End up in prison after Scotland Yard raided your house? Surely with a man like Moran you you skip out on a charge like supplying a class A drug. But maybe you had ran out of use, you didn't manage to get to Mycroft, John clearly wasn't coming back to you, so he chucked you out with the rest of his trash?" He smiled wryly "Why would he want to keep someone so useless anyway, you supplied a little coke and got hard kissing my boyfriend, why would he need you?"

"He loved me, he wouldn't do that." Joe shouted, Sherlock stepped, smug.

"Ahh, so you do know him, what a revelation. Care to tell us a little more?"

"Sebastian loved me, I know he did, he wasn't really with Moriarty, he just wanted in on the action." Joe spoke through his teeth. "John was useless anyway, all he ever wanted was to see you, when he was high he just kept saying your name, like some kind of psycho, even when we kissed he wouldn't shut up about you, always mumbling, saying you wouldn't like it."

Silence stretched between us all, I had never felt so close and yet so frar away from Sherlock than I did right now. I reflected on what had happened in the past two years, and I had been the stupidest person I could ever have been, the irony that I was now with Sherlock would one day amuse me. It all seemed so simple and so complicated all at once. I'd been lied to by someone I felt I could trust in the time when I needed someone so very badly. I felt useless and alone, I had let Sherlock down, which is something I could never forgive myself for.

"I hate you. Not because you got me hooked on coke or manipulated me." I began, I hadn't a clue where I was heading "But because you made me hate myself, and Sherlock. You had no right to  tarnish the memory of the man I love so much that even before he died it hurt a little, I could have had some form of a life with him, but why would he want me now? You have ruined everything, and I hope that someday soon you will know what it feels like to die so many times over." I raised my fist so slam down on Joe's face, but Sherlock's hand grabbed it back.

"Don't John, he knows how you feel, Sebastian lied to him. He is so much worse than the best of humanity, and he now has to live with that fact." Sherlock leaned forward and pulled off the restraints and Joe stood, his eyes blood shot and sore. "Get out, and I swear, if you ever step foot in my house again, I'll kill you." Sherlock was calm, collected, it's how I knew he was angry beyond belief.

"You're right, John, I won't know what it's like to lose the man you love so many times over, but I'll also never know what it feels like to have that man love me back. Good day, gentlmen." The ease in which he strode out nearly pushed me over the edge.

I turned to Sherlock, I wanted to ask him why he had let Joe go so easily, but his eyes said it all, he had heard how I felt, like death had all but taken me, and my expression must have reflected that. The emotion washed over him, there was nothing we could say to make it better, not right now. All we had was each other and that was enough, it was perfect. Sherlock stepped towards me with a speed that was almost startling, his arms wound round my back tightly and he pulled me to meet his height. When his lips crushed mine my stomach flipped and I was taken back two years to the very fist time, when we hadn't even began our date, but nothing could stop us from just being there next to one another. My mouth opened and his tongue flicked against my lip, my breathing hitched. Sherlock's hands seemed to be everywhere at once, I tugged at his hair lightly, trying to get him closer than ever.

"I love you, John." Sherlock spoke in barely a whisper against my mouth.

"I'm so sorry, I love you too, and I always have." I mirrored his tone.

"John, will you." He froze "Will you marry me." He beamed, our noses touching.

"Of course I will, I told you I will." Breathless.

"Good.. I just wanted to check. You see, nothing scared me more than knowing that there could be someone else in the world you liked so much, it scares me even more that there is someone you could love more than me." Sherlock spoke softly, almost fragile.

"That could never happen, you're my impossible man. You gave me everything I wanted, without me knowing I wanted it so much, the one man that could never love, loves me, you are... Impossible."

"Thank you for waiting." He hushed.

Nothing else was said that night, just faint utters of love, life and Sherlock Holmes...

Chapter Text

The Secret blog: Day 2725

What exactly does one get a man who is impossible to please for a fourth anniversary?

I had mulled the question over for weeks, and now I had five days to decide. I still had nothing, not a thing. For our first anniversary I had bought him a gold pocket watch engraved with the date he proposed (the first time), for our second anniversary I had given him a diamond tie pin, and last year I gave him new test tubes that he had hinted at months in advance. Of course, each and every year he had guessed what I was going to buy and told me so in advance. My only option was what I had given him on our wedding night, we couldn't walk for a few days after, but it was worth it.

...Then again maybe not.

**Sherlock's added notes** I am more than happy for you to repeat your wedding night gift, I'll phone Lestrade ahead and tell him we won't be working for a week after, in case you're up for round three or four. Please note, I don't guess know.

Stop hacking into my blog.


John flipped down the lid of his laptop, laughing at his wonderfully impossible husband. He sat back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair, glancing round at the bedroom he shared with the love of his life, fondly remembering the first night he had spent in here, when Sherlock had become ill and they'd watched a film together. Just as John began to reminisce on his perfect life with his perfect man, he heard that very man's voice from the other room. 

"You're wrong." Sherlock announced.

"I am not, watch, you'll see." The other voice said.

"I shall see, see you being wrong and me being smug." The grin was apparent in his tone.

"How will I know the difference?"

John grinned, craning his neck to listen.

"It makes no sense whatsoever. Now, I think we should save ourselves the time and you can apologise now for being stupid." Sherlock said, slightly agitated.

"I resent that accusation, who do you take me for? Gavin?"

"Greg!" John announced walking into the room "And it's Uncle Greg to you young man. And Sherlock, can you please not tell our son he is stupid, you'll corrupt him, unless you want him to tell a psychiatrist when he's older." He tapped the back of his hand against Sherlock's head.

"Sorry Daddy." Hamish grinned.

"See here John, our dearest boy seems to think he knows more than I. If this alleged 'Fairy Godmother' somehow has magic powers to turn Cinderella into a Princess and her pumpkin into a coach, this is a very powerful gift she has, so I fail to see how the time of day, or night as it is, will have any effect on this at all. I believe Walt Disney has no grasp of the logical." Sherlock raved, his arms above his head.

John planted a kiss his cheek and he blushed slightly, something that John always appreciated. "He's right Sherlock."

"What?" He sat bolt upright immediately.

Hamish whistled, mockingly.

"He is right, I'm afraid, you can apologise." John beamed.

"I refuse to." Sherlock snubbed them both. "Shouldn't we be leaving soon anyway?"

"You have been complaining about your brother's engagement party for months, suddenly you want to go?"  John teased at his husband's ever growing frustration.

"Daddy, Uncle Mycroft said that Uncle Greg is his silver fox... What does that mean?" They both froze, staring at there little boy. "OK, I also overheard him saying he wants to top-"

"Go and get your shoes on." They said,  simultaneously.

Hamish Watson grinned, the gap in his baby teeth clearly visible, and ran down the hall to pull on his shoes.

"He is far too smart for a seven year old." John rolled his eyes, chuckling at the outburst.

"He's just like his Daddy." Sherlock simpered.

John felt a flutter in his stomach, as he always did. "Why thank you."

Sherlock's expression fell "I mean me." 

"Impossible."  He tutted in return, rolling his eyes.

Sherlock pulled at John into his lap lightly. "Hello you." Sherlock said, his nose against John's.

"Hello." They fell into a silence that took John back to when he had first seen Sherlock after St Barts.

"I love you." Sherlock said, his breath soft against John's cheek.

"You've been editing my blog again." John said, barely above a whisper, a tone that he knew Sherlock responded to.

"Yes, I have, I thought you could use some help... Speaking of which, you were talking about a present you could give me." Sherlock's hips pushed up against John.

"Oh no no, not now, you were mean to me." Still whispering, speaking slowly, he could practically feel Sherlock's arousal peaking.

"Maybe I could." Sherlock's nose knocked John's back and forth gently "Make it up to you." 

"Try it Holmes." John challenged.

Sherlock's lips brushed John's, just touching, John felt the rush to his stomach as his husband's hot breath danced over his face. At first the kiss was soft, a finger swept his blushing cheek. Sherlock's hands ran under his jumper, picking it up to reveal his abdomen.

"How's that?" Arrogance in his voice, but heat in his eyes as they traced the contours of Johns stomach "How did I marry such a beautiful man?" Sherlock asked, mindlessly touching John's now bare chest.

"You're forgiven." John said breathlessly. "Just three words you said to me that completely and utterly won me over." John trailed off teasingly.

"I love you?" Sherlock asked, overtly proud of himself.

"I put them on." Hamish announced, bounding into the room. John leaped back off the chair and straightened out his jumper that had risen over his shoulders.

"Good lad, why don't you run downstairs and see if Mrs Hudson is ready and Daddy and I will be right down." John said.

"Ok, love you Daddy." Hamish smiled adoringly, he pecked John on the cheek "Will Uncle Jim be there?" 

"He will, but please Hamish, so you remember what we said last time?" John put on his strict tone.

"Yes, OK, no asking about how he stealed the crown jewels." 

"Stole." Sherlock corrected.

"Sherlock, priorities." John shot back over his shoulder.

"Yes, sorry. So, don't ask Mori- I mean Uncle Jim about the crown jewels, the bank of England, Pentonville Prison or about how he made Daddy kill himself." Sherlock smiled down at him, scooping their son in his arms, tickling his sides. "Who loves you Hamish?"

"Uncle Mycroft." He giggled for a long moment "And you." He jumped down and ran out the door, his feet pounding against every step.

"Come on then." John grabbed Sherlock's hand and began to walk forward before being pulled back into his husband's arms, a kiss pressed on his cheek.

"So what were those three words?" Sherlock said softly in his ear.

A smile teetered on the corner of John's lips as he spoke "Afghanistan or Iraq."...