"Don't be an idiot"
Sherlock was laughing, his lips pulled into a slightly manic smile.
"You aren't going into the army, you'll die." He shook his head again, still sitting, albeit rigidly, his feet on John's lap.
The other man was sighing, running his fingers through his short blonde hair as if this was taxing on him.
John was still absently running the pad of his thumb over Sherlock's bony ankle, and he watched him with a slightly concerned expression.
"I told you I enlisted months ago." "You never said anything was sorted" was the sharp response.
"I told you. And they want to ship me off for more basic training first, then I'll be up and out" he murmured gently. "Hell, they years will go so fast, I'll be back before you know it."
Sherlock grimaced at these words and huffed, closing his eyes. "Don't lie to me, John. That won't help either of us. Especially if you hurt yourself. Or worse".
He watched John's calm expression falter, and immediately felt guilty. Sherlock sat up, shifting on the bed until he was lying on his side, before pulling John down with him and tangling their legs together, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.
"Sorry. I'll just miss you. A lot"
"I know."
"And, you know, if we write…if we keep contact you might not-"
"-might not what?"
"Don't forget me"
"Shut up"
John silenced Sherlock's feeble protest with a more passionate kiss, his leg slotting between Sherlock's longer ones, pulling him closer.
"Now, seeing as this is our last night to do so for a while, make the most of it, Sherlock Holmes".
He didn't need asking twice and he hummed, pushing all other thoughts to the back of his mind as he licked over John's jaw, sliding his hands under the mans' shirt, his fingers tracing a pattern over his chest.
Their bodies tangled, sweat combining as they writhed together on the bed, the sheets and duvet lying desolate in a crumpled heap on the floor, nothing between them, nothing guarding them as they panted each other's names.