Disclaimer: Sherlock doesn't belong to me. He belongs to those devils in human form, Moffat and Gatiss.

AN: This story is dedicated to my bestest friend in the entire world. He's literally the John to my Sherlock and he requested a story where John tells Sherlock to "Take his top off." Enjoy.

"No."

"But-"

"No." John stepped further into Sherlock's room, staring at the almost full suitcase that was lying on the bed. "I said no Sherlock. You can't bring a wardrobe of dress shirts, pants, and blazers on vacation, let alone your coat! We're going to the beach, not Scotland!"

Sherlock humphed and flung himself onto the bed. "What am I supposed to bring then? I'm not as accustomed to the heat as you are." John left the room without saying anything but quickly returned with a paper in hand.

"Here, this is the checklist I made for myself. Make sure you bring everything on there and anything else you feel you need. That doesn't include chemicals for experiments," John added quickly. He handed the paper to Sherlock and left once again. Sherlock looked it over, his face grimacing as he saw just the first few items:

T-shirts for the week

Shorts

Swim Trunks

Sandals

If it had been any other person, he would have simply refused. Even more, probably thrown some sort of tantrum so he wouldn't have been forced to go. But this was different. This was John. And John wanted to go on vacation somewhere warm and with a beach. Sherlock didn't do beaches or vacations. He couldn't say no though. Not to John, and though he didn't want to fully admit it, he couldn't say no to a full week alone with his flatmate with no major cases or hospital work in the way.

Sherlock picked up the envelope laying on his night stand. Inside were two airplane tickets to Catania, Sicily. Also inside was their rental car information, rental house booking, and both his and John's passports. "Sherlock hurry up! We don't have all day to get to Heathrow!" John called from the sitting room. Sherlock looked at his closet and sighed, if anything, it was going to be a long week.

John checked his watch for the fifth time in the past two minutes. He and Sherlock were sitting outside their gate at Heathrow, bags checked and all ready to go. There was just one problem though, their flight had been delayed. They had traveled all around terminal five, gotten lunch at a Chinese place, perused the book store, and returned back to their gate. Sherlock was asleep next to John, his mouth slightly open. John looked at him and then quickly looked away, trying to push the thoughts of how adorable a sleeping Sherlock Holmes looked out of his mind.

Thinking back, he couldn't believe that Sherlock had agreed to take a vacation. They had both needed one; Sherlock was just less likely to admit it. John had prepared for the worst, complaining, snarkiness, and Sherlock being an overall arsehole the entire time. There was none of that though. All John had done was mention that he had wanted to go to the beach and within a few days Sherlock was handing him plane tickets to Sicily.

At first he thought it was a joke, but sure enough when he checked online, the tickets were genuine and booked in their names. John had never been to Italy. It was quite a nice thought, spending a week alone without someone getting murdered or he and Sherlock being shot at. There would be no serial killers, no bombers, no Lestrade or Anderson or Donovan; just him and Sherlock. He turned his head and looked again at the consulting detective. He had moved his head against John's shoulder and there was a bit of drool coming from the corner of his mouth. John's mouth upturned into a smile. Yes, it was going to be quite a good week.

"John," Sherlock said softly. "John, look out the window." The army doctor slowly roused at the sound of Sherlock's voice.

"What?" he said, a bit confused.

"I said look out the window, you can see the coastline." John's eyes slowly unblurred as he quickly rubbed them. Sherlock was on the window side, and with the small size of the window, it was going to be a bit difficult to get a proper look. "Hurry up, before we go through another cloud." John took a quick look around and a deep breath. Unlike most times, no one who was here knew them. No one would suspect some sort of sexual relationship between the two (not that there was one!) and they were going to be on vacation for a week together, he should take some risks.

John leaned over Sherlock's chest, bracing one hand on the wall beside the window. He looked out and confirmed Sherlock was correct, he could see the Sicilian coastline traveling below them. The water was so blue compared to what surrounded the English coast. It was bright and crystal clear. He couldn't wait to get down there, to relax on the beach and swim in the water. John was so caught up in the sight below that he didn't even notice that he had relaxed his brace on the window, lowering himself partly into Sherlock's lap.

"It's gorgeous," said John.

"So are you," whispered Sherlock, not realizing what he was saying. John turned his head.

"What?"

Sherlock for once in his life was stumbling for words. "I- I said 'it's so blue'." John tried to hide his sigh of disappointment as he sat back into his own seat.

"Yes, yes it is. I can't wait 'till we get there, how about you?" Sherlock turned his head to look back out the window. He was trying to commit to memory the smell of John being so close to him, John's weight on his lap.

"Can't wait."

"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?"

"I told you I'm fine," snapped Sherlock. "I drive. I'm always the one who drives. I'm not going to let having to be on the other side of the road change that." John sighed and shook his head, it was better not to argue.

"Fine, I'm taking the map then," retorted John. He got in the passenger side and unfolded the map he had picked up at the airport. He already circled Donnalucata on it. "Alright, the lady renting the house to us said to be there by four and it's a two hour drive, so we better get going." Sherlock put the key in the ignition and off they went. It was a ride of silence, but that wasn't any different than most rides together. John looked out the window and offered Sherlock directions when they were needed, and soon enough they were pulling up to the beach house they were renting. A woman in probably her sixties stood outside the front door waiting for them.

"Ah, devi essere Mr. Holmes?"

"Si signora, io sono Sherlock Holmes e questo è il mio amico, John Watson. Stiamo affitare la casa per la settimana." John stared at Sherlock, immensely impressed with his Italian. Not only that, but how beautiful it sounded coming from his deep voice.

"Qui è la chiave. Tornerò lunedi per esso. Si prega di lasciare tutto così com'è. Avere una buona vacanza!" Sherlock smiled.

"Grazie a voi, lo faremo." The woman handed Sherlock a key and returned to her own vehicle, driving away.

"What did she say?" asked John, not understanding a word of the previous conversation.

"She said 'here's the key. Please leave everything as it is and have a good vacation'." Sherlock tossed the key a couple of times in his hand. "Well, let's go. Grab your suitcase and we'll check this place out!" John looked quizzically at Sherlock for a moment, not used to such excitement unless there was a spree of murders going on.

"Alright, but I'm not grabbing yours for you," said John cheekily. Sherlock sighed and walked over to the trunk of the car. As he passed him, John noticed the sweat dripping down Sherlock's brow. Well, he thought, that's what you get for wearing all black to the beach. John waited for Sherlock to grab his bags since he had the key. Sherlock unlocked the door and they stepped inside. The bottom floor was completely open, with a spacious kitchen connecting to a large living room with leather couches and a flat-screen television. "This is very, very nice," said John in awe.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Sherlock said, heading towards the flight of the stairs. John followed close behind as they ascended the staircase. When they reached the top, they found that there were two bedrooms and a large bathroom on the second floor. Sherlock quickly laid claim to the bedroom to the left, leaving John the one to the right. "I'm going to go change John," he said as he shut his door. "Is there anything specific you'd like to go do?"

"Uhm, well-" There were so many things John would have like to have said, though he supposed that none were appropriate for the situation.

"John, you still there?"

"Err, yeah... Well, I kind of wanted to go down to the beach..." he said with a bit of nervousness. "You can join me if you want, but you don't have to." John didn't want Sherlock to know that that was exactly what he wanted.

"Well I'm going to finish unpacking and then I'll meet you downstairs, don't leave without me!" John was thankful Sherlock couldn't see him because there was a huge grin on his face and he was beet red. He quickly unpacked his suitcase and changed into a t-shirt and a pair of faded red swim trunks. John was back down to the living room before Sherlock and decided to test the couches while he waited for the dark haired man to finish changing.

Soon enough Sherlock emerged from the staircase in quite unusual attire for himself. He had on a gray St. Bart's t-shirt and dark purple swim trunks. The same purple of John's favourite shirt that he wore. He couldn't deny how sexy Sherlock looked when he wore it. It was just the right shade, and now he had a pair of shorts to match. "What?" asked Sherlock innocently. "Is there something wrong? I assumed that this is what people normally wore to the beach..."

John realized that he had probably been staring. "Oh no! You're fine! You just look, different." It wasn't just the clothes. The way his hair fell, glistening with a layer of sweat was to die for. Not to mention the fact that he had a pair of leather flip flops on, exposing his rather large but proportional feet.

"I see your point. You look, different, as well." Sherlock was trying not to stare at John too. They were both oblivious to the other though, and they simply sat in silence for a moment.

"Well, let's go," said John quickly. He and Sherlock excited the house through the back door, immediately hitting sand. The view was gorgeous. The water wasn't too far away and John quickly made his way towards it, stripping off his shirt and sandals on the sand before entering the cool blueness. It was wonderful. He loved vacation. Sherlock had gone over to wear John had left his clothes and sat down, starting to meddle with the sand. "Aren't you going to come in?" John yelled to him.

"I'm not much of a swimmer," he said. Both knew that wasn't true. Sherlock had told John stories of him pushing Mycroft into the family pool multiple times as a child. What John didn't know was that Sherlock didn't want to get into the water because he didn't believe he could hold himself back from a shirtless John.

"Come on, get over here!" yelled John. Sherlock sighed and gave in, standing up and slipping off his shoes. He looked up and down the beach, there was no one else in sight. It was like they had their own private beach. Sherlock slowly walked forward to where the water met his feet. John was already out far enough that just above his shoulder's was exposed. Sherlock continued to walk into the water, enjoying the cooling affect it had on him. It was relaxing, and it helped slow the millions of thoughts running through his head.

"For God's sake Sherlock, take your top off!" Sherlock opened his eyes and realized that he hadn't removed his t-shirt. John hoped that his comment would just be taken as an observation, and not wishful thinking. Sherlock slowly removed the sweaty article, turned, and tossed it back onto the sand behind him. He turned back to face John and started walking towards him again. John couldn't not stare. Sherlock was beautiful. His chest was well defined as were his abdominal muscles. The small amount of dark hair was barely noticeable. Finally, John couldn't help but count the amount of "beauty marks" that were scattered about his chest and back.

"The water feels really good," said Sherlock, now right next to him. John had been distracted and hadn't realized his closeness.

"Oh God yes, it does," he said. Sherlock quickly went underwater and re-emerged, shaking his wet hair to get it out of his eyes.

"I haven't gone swimming in ages. It's quite enjoyable. I'm glad you wanted to go the beach John, good choice indeed." Sherlock smiled as he lay down on his back, gently floating. John too went underwater, immediately feeling the cooling affects. When he came up however, Sherlock was standing practically over him. Though John too was standing Sherlock's height made a shadow over him.

Their eyes made contact and they held it. John could see the longing in Sherlock's eyes and it was the same the other way around. Sherlock brought his hand up to cup the side of John's face and slowly traced his jawline with his thumb. "John..."

John couldn't believe this was happening. Granted, he had wanted something of this nature to happen eventually over their vacation, but this early was a bit surprising. "Sherlock..." His hand had moved to Sherlock's chest, slowly running down it. Their eyes never left each other and ever so slowly Sherlock's face moved nearer John's. He was preparing to be kissed, and John closed his eyes. However, Sherlock's cupid's bow lips never met his. Instead, they had moved to his right ear where John could feel his hot breath. He didn't know what to do until Sherlock finally said something in a very soft, suggestive, and sexy whisper.

"I'm so glad we decided to go on vacation."