He was high. Very, very high, this time. Floating in a white mist for what seemed like ages. He was so high, it didn't seem that he could ever get back down again. The last feeling, the last rational thought that remained in his brain was that this must have been more than usually. Probably whole seven percent more. Almost unbearable. He heard someone. A distant shouting of his own name - calling him, maybe. One long desperate cry. He felt his body shake - or was someone else shaking him? Sherlock couldn't tell. His pulse rate was almost too fast. He felt he couldn't breathe, but couldn't do anything, just to let his body drag his brain on a wave of unawareness. Finally he collapsed. He fell down. Down on his lover's chest and as his senses slowly returned, listened to his heartbeat and ragged breathing, felt the raising and falling of the hot, wet flesh underneath him. After a moment of relishing in the feel of it and catching his own breath, he looked up and saw John who smiled back at him. The smaller man laughed softly, still breathlessly, and said: "This... was maybe the best ... orgasm of my life." Sherlock just smiled and gave his love soft peck on the lips. Yes. It was pure bliss.