It's been five months since I've really written anything. I'm hoping this helps me get back into the groove after a busy summer.

This has not been betaed. Forgive me!


Sometimes it took him by surprise.

Just this morning he had finished a case. He should have been riding high, knowing he had outsmarted yet another criminal, as well as Scotland Yard. Instead, he was curled up on the sofa. He felt like a boat that had become untied, drifting on the water, away from shore. Separate from humanity.

Night had fallen when Sherlock heard the familiar sound of steps on the stairs. John burst into the room.
"Hello!" he called out, a smile on his face.

Sherlock found himself unable to answer. He wanted to, but the feeling of being disconnected and lost made the words stick in his throat.

One look told John all he needed to know. Years together, first as friends and now romantic partners, gave him the ability to see Sherlock as few others had. He tossed his coat and scarf over the back of his chair, walked over to the sofa, and reach out his hand. At first, Sherlock simply stared, but then he let the calloused palm enfold his own and pull him up.

It was silent as they made their way to the bedroom. John stripped them both down to their pants, lifted a corner of the duvet, guided Sherlock down, and covered him up before going to his side of the bed. John then snuggled up behind him. He ran his fingers over Sherlock's shoulders and arms, up and down, touch almost feather light.

After a few minutes, Sherlock turned over and wound his limbs around the smaller man. John smiled as the curly head tucked itself under his chin, he continued to caress. It was a slow process, but Sherlock could feel himself returning. With each loving stroke, John was pulling him back to shore. Soon soft murmurs could be heard, loving words exchanged, and long fingers started to travel.

By the time the two men fell asleep, Sherlock was firmly secure once more.