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Musing, Sherlock bounced a rubber ball off the nearby wall. After solving a case, a handful of 'free' days gave the detective time to catch up on sleeping, eating, his experiments and having sex with John. But too many days and thoughts normally locked away would begin to escape and taunt the genius.
Cruel thoughts began to flood his brain. Lestrade only tolerates you because he needs you. Mycroft only looks out for you because Mummy makes him and he doesn't want you to embarrass him. Mrs. Hudson is kind and puts up with you but wouldn't she have kicked you out by now if John didn't live here also? John is kind, caring and good, too good for you. John...
John who was now entering their living room and could easily read Sherlock after six years of living together and two years of true partnership.
"Come," he said, offering his hand.
He led Sherlock to their bedroom and wove a cocoon of tender words and touches around the detective. Fingers caressed and stroked exposed skin as he spoke
"Lestrade likes you, in his own way Mycroft is affectionate, and Mrs. Hudson adores you. You're brilliant, funny, caring and most importantly," John took Sherlock's face between his hands and made certain their eyes were locked, "you, Sherlock Holmes, are my beloved."