A successful plan
John was dead tired.
He let the jacket fall on the floor, kicked his shoes somewhere on the carpet and fell flat on the bed.
After many weeks of military strategy, perfect coordination and unchanged routine to prevent questionings, the moment had finally come.
It had been a very stressful day: the waiting had been long and boring, the ambush as quick as a lightening and the aftermath full of suspictions and doubts.
He had walked the entire way home looking behind his back.
Now, however, safe and sound in the bedroom in 221b Baker Street, John felt nothing but a welcome sensation: a mixture of peace, serenity and satisfaction.
He smiled; he still could not believe everything went so fine.
No one suspected anything. HE didn't suspect anything.
Suddenly, someone knocked lightly at the door.
"May I come in, doctor Holmes?"
"Of course you can, mister Watson"
Sherlock entered the room and literally threw himself the bed next to his brand new husband.
"No flowers nor cards so far, this means Mycroft has yet to find out. I won" Sherlock grinned.
"I think you wanted to say WE won. Start thinking like a married man, Sherlock" John jokingly pointed out.
"If this is what is going to happen evey day – you pestering about the whole "You're married now" thing – I'll get divorced tomorrow" Sherlock threatened.
"No, you won't" John mocked in a queerish falsetto voice.
Sherlock laughed and kissed him.
They made love passionately all night long whispering each other's name, 'till they fell asleep one in the other man's arms.