One Year Later…
A knock at the office door made John pause in packing up his things for the day. “Come in,” he called, swinging his bag over his shoulder as the door swung open. Sherlock stepped through, closing the door behind him before sauntering across the room. His hips swung as he walked, making John bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing or groaning. His cock gave a hopeful and predictable twitch at the sight. “Hello, Mister Holmes,” he said teasingly. “What can I do for you?”
“I hoped you might have some free office hours, Doctor Watson,” Sherlock replied, catching onto the game at once. He slipped between John and the desk, hoisting himself up onto the edge with ease, his long legs bracketing John’s hips. “I think I need a check-up.”
“Is that so?” John grinned, snorting as he lost the battle with his amusement.
Sherlock’s fingers, hooking into his belt loops, banished John’s mirth. He tugged, and John went willingly, abandoning the facade as their mouths met. Sherlock’s tongue traced along his bottom lip, John opening to him, the kiss turning hot and hungry. They kissed until John broke for air, bending to nuzzle beneath Sherlock’s jaw. Sherlock tilted his head back with a pleased hum. “Are you finished for the day?” he asked, sounding a little raspy as his hazy eyes slid to half-mast.
His reply muffled against Sherlock’s neck, John said, “I am now.” Dragging his tongue up Sherlock’s throat, John settled his hands on Sherlock’s hips and raised his head with a grin. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. I take it the case wasn’t much of a challenge?”
Sherlock draped his arms over John’s broad shoulders. “I solved it days ago,” he said with a pout. “The case Lestrade called me out for was hardly more than a three. I solved it in an hour.”
One of John’s brows rose. “And you didn’t come back until today?” His question was met with an eye roll.
“Mycroft made me join him for dinner and forced his guest room upon me for several days,” Sherlock said with a put-upon sigh. He glared when John laughed.
“Oh, the horrors.” John pressed a lingering kiss to Sherlock’s cheek to soften his sour expression. Sherlock melted at once, making John grin. “You’re home for the weekend, then?”
“Plus all this month and the next,” Sherlock said with a coy wiggle of his hips, scooting to the desk's edge and closer to John. “Barring any fascinating cases that may or may not crop up. Doyle asked if I minded holding another music therapy session with some of the newer patients.”
“And do you mind?”
Sherlock’s plush mouth curved into a sly little smile. “I said I didn’t mind in the least.” Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over John’s ear. In a whisper, he said, “I prudently did not tell Doyle that I was far more eager to be ravished by a certain Doctor Watson after several days apart.”
A faint flush of colour rising in his cheeks, John tapped a finger to Sherlock’s nose. “You, my lovely madman, are a menace.”
Sherlock appeared pleased by the statement and nudged John away so he could slip off the desk. “So you keep saying,” he said with a smirk as he picked up John’s jacket and helped him into it. “And yet, you continue to stay with me.” Sherlock affected an offended expression. “I’m starting to think you’re rather full of it, John Watson.”
“One of us sure is full of something,” John agreed, ducking aside when Sherlock swatted at him. “What do you say to a swim before we go over your ideas for those music therapy sessions?” He turned toward the door only for Sherlock to catch him by the shoulder and spin him back around.
Gripping John’s tie, Sherlock reeled him in and looked down at him with hooded eyes. “Did you not hear what I just said about my needing to be ravished?” His plush lower lip pushed out into a dramatic pout.
John laughed, the bright, happy sound coaxing a smile onto Sherlock’s face. “How could I forget?” His hands landed on Sherlock’s narrow hips, pulling him in until they were pressed together from thigh to chest. Sherlock groaned, immediately pliant as he leaned into John. His head fell back, John’s mouth wandering over his neck, teeth scraping down Sherlock’s throat.
“Ravishing first,” John said, smiling against Sherlock’s flushed skin. “Followed by a swim, and then music therapy ideas.” Lifting onto his toes, he captured Sherlock’s lips in a slow, coaxing kiss that had Sherlock sighing into his mouth and releasing his tie with a dreamy expression. John leaned back and cocked an eyebrow. “Does that work for you?”
“Those terms suit me just fine, Doctor Watson,” Sherlock purred. Recovering quickly from his daze, he slipped free of John’s arms and pulled John’s bag over his shoulder. “Now, hurry up.”
“Impatient sod,” John said with no small amount of affection, letting Sherlock steer him out of the office with eager hands.
“We both know you love it,” Sherlock quipped, hurrying him toward the stairs.
Pausing to look at him, John found himself grinning in helpless adoration. They'd had their ups and downs since the first day they'd met, between Sherlock's addiction and John's own demons. But they'd come through them together; had come out the other side changed and stronger and knowing more about themselves than they had before. The road hadn't been easy, and it still wasn't easy now, but they were building something together. A union, a path.
“God help me,” John said with fond emphasis, “but I do.”