Chapter 1

Sherlock was struggling. After three long years of planning and waiting and hoping and wanting, he finally had the chance to see his best friend, but no words would form in his mouth. No words could he taste on his tongue. So he struggled against panic.

Of course, he wanted to see John before anyone else, and he knew how the doctor would react. He wouldn't faint. He wouldn't scream. John would throw a punch; he had been in the military. Sherlock had promised himself that he would have something to say by the time he entered the restaurant, but as he was rounding the front hall, nothing came to mind and he could just barely feel John's fist hitting his cheek.

Sherlock whipped his coat off and wrapped it over his forearm, his mouth slightly agape, hoping words of explanation would tumble out, because there sat John.

Sherlock stood about a yard from the table, but John didn't seem to notice, so he strode forward and sat down. John didn't even look up as he spoke, wine glass an inch from his lips.

"Excuse me, that seat is taken..." John sipped a bit of wine, but then sprayed it all over the table clothe.

Sherlock smiled and brought his hands up, shaking them. "Not dead."

John clenched his jaw and frowned until finally, his lips pursed like he always used to do.

"What?"

"I said I'm not dead." Sherlock raised his hands again and shook them, jutting his chin out and raising his eyebrows for effect. He had learned that deaf people clapped by shaking their hands, and he liked how it looked.

"No. No." John was shaking his head and his cheeks were flushing. That ridiculous mustache looked so in the way. Sherlock wasn't expecting a furry caterpillar on his friend's face when they met.

"Yes, actually. You're not going to freak out? I thought I knew you."

Sherlock actually was a bit surprised. Had John changed from the jumper wearing, tough army doctor he knew, into a suit wearing, wine drinking date? The only reason he thought that John was here, was for a date. This was the restaurant to bring a date to.

"No, I've changed. I met someone."

"Met someone? A woman?" Who? he growled in his head.

"Mary."

Sherlock clapped his hands on the table. "You're meeting her tonight, at one of the fanciest restaurants in the town. With a ring?" He glared at a few other couples eating here, not wanting to make eye contact with someone he knew he could stare at for hours.

"No. Not tonight. We've only been going out for a month. I do eventually want to get married, and I think I'll propose here, but I want her to get used to the place I propose to her in." John was blinking a lot, and looking down at his wine. He was holding back tears.

Sherlock on the other hand, had to look away because of the grin growing on his face. Not proposing. Good. Once he managed to hide his smile, Sherlock looked back with a serious expression.

"You want to marry her?"

"She's the one, finally the one." He smiled and rolled his wine glass around, swishing the liquid inside. John chuckled. "I thought you were the one once." Sherlock knew he wasn't supposed to hear that because it was whispered in the quietest voice ever.

Sherlock inhaled quickly. "What's with the mustache?"

"Mary liked how it looked."

"Where's your jumper?"

"The only jumper I ever where now is the one Mary made me."

Mary. Mary. Mary. Shut up about Mary.

John shook his hand around in the air and then pointed it at the table, tapping the clothe and chugged back some wine. "How are you not dead?" John coughed and then looked at him with a big frown.

Sherlock brushed his suit and shrugged. "I just switched the bodies. Remember the gas that was used on us in Baskerville? I used it again on you and everyone else. You saw what you expected to see, and the others followed your lead."

Sherlock felt a twitch at the edge of his mouth and smiled. "It's good to see you John."

"Yeah, well, I never thought I'd see you again." John scrunched his face and sniffed, which made the mustache even more noticeable and annoying.

A lie popped into his mind. "John, this is the only night that I am free to show myself. I have waited three years for this, so spend it with me?"

John started playing with his fingers, tapping them on the table and picking under the nails. "I have a date."

"Please, John. It's been three years. Please."

"Why is tonight the only night?"

"Moriarty sent assassins after me before he died. They're calling it a rest for today, but return to watch tomorrow." He had killed those assassins long ago, dealt with them easily. Only recently had he been able to hack into the media data and erase all files on himself.

John huffed out a breath and leaned over, shoving his hand into his pocket and glaring at Sherlock. "I hate you." He shook his finger disapprovingly at him and started tapping on the cell keys.

"Thank you, John."

A moment later, they were rushing out of the restaurant, keeping a good distance between each other. Sherlock tried to get closer but John would swiftly move away.

He hailed a cab and the two climbed in once one arrived.

Sherlock finally grabbed John's hand out of frustration and rushed up the stairs to his old flat. Oh, how he missed home. Sherlock wasn't aiming to enter the living room, instead he was going to the bathroom.

John seemed like a dead weight behind him, stumbling after Sherlock and not uttering a word until they reached the bathroom. "Sherlock, what are you doing?" His voice cracked like a school-boys'.

Sherlock smiled and forcefully twirled John around so that he had the doctor tight against his body with an arm firmly strung around his neck. It was the typical strangle, but Sherlock wasn't choking the life out of his friend, he was just holding him in place for a moment.

John struggled and let out little cries. "Guh...Sher..Geff..off..." And other such things.

Sherlock squatted down to a lower cupboard, which sent John flying to the floor and then scrambling for a hold. He rummaged around old boxes until he found the box that held shaving cream and a straight razor.

Sherlock knew that John would struggle, so he tightened his grip until John wasn't moving anymore. Of course, he wouldn't kill his best friend, he just didn't want to hurt him while he got ride of that terrible mustache!

He placed the shaving utensils next to the sink and dragged John to the edge of the tub and sat on top of him. Then if he tried to move, he couldn't.

Sherlock would have to move quickly, so he turned the shower nob slightly, as to let a little bit of water flow, then, as fast as he could, sprayed the shaving cream all over John's chin and lip.

It was difficult to shave another man, especially sitting on his lap, but Sherlock managed, and just in time.

John groaned and started to move his hands. Sherlock reached down and stopped one of the hands, then shaving off the last bit of John's hideous mustache.

He quickly filled his cupped hand with water and splashed John's face, washing the rest of the cream away. Sherlock slid his thumb over John's lip until he could hold the doctor's chin.

Sherlock raised John's head and leaned down to kiss him, but was stopped.

"Sherlock, don't." John's voice was stern and his eyes were fire balls.

Sherlock's eyes filled with wetness and he hovered above John's lips. He realized now that he had completely pinned John down, binding his wrists to the floor with his own strong hands, and his body pressed against John's.

Sherlock didn't understand why John wanted him to stop. There had been friction between them ever since they started working on cases. Was it Mary? Mary. The name felt like lava running down his throat and his heart thudded heavily against his ribcage. He missed John so much!

Sherlock had been waiting over John, thinking about Mary and hating her, but now was tightening his body all over. John realized it and tried to get his hands free. However, Sherlock's grip was tight and painful.

Sherlock's wet eyes pooled over and tears ran from his face as he ferociously kissed John. The doctor gasped and lay still, simply receiving with no reaction.

Between short gasps for air, he growled words. "Is..it..her?"

Sherlock released one of John's hands and clenched John's neck instead. John's free hand scraped at Sherlock's choking grip. "No." He rasped.

Sherlock hunched forward and wrapped two hands around John's throat. The forward motion and weight slid them onto the ground, instead of leaning against the tub. Sherlock bit John's lip and kissed him one last time.

Tears were running quickly down his cheeks and he let go of John.

The doctor wheezed and heaved and choked for breath. He panted: "Sherlock, it's you."

Sherlock scrambled back and rested his elbows on his knees, head against his forearms as tears pattered on the tile ground. "How? What am I doing wrong?"

He felt a small touch at the edge of his hand and looked up to see John taking his hands. The doctor edged forward and sat in criss-cross. Sherlock did the same, but wept with an occasional sniffle.

"Sherlock, you never do anything wrong. You're perfect."

John looked at his lips and up again. The searching glare in his eyes were like magnets and Sherlock leaned forward, only staring at the doctor's lips.

John released one of his hands and put it on Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock leaned into his hand and closed his eyes, blessing John's touch. How long had he waited for this.

He had once been so under control. He could summon tears when he wanted, or smile when he needed to. This was ridiculous, streaming tears and making love-leading actions. John was messing with his mind.

And now he was messing with his hair. John twirled a curl and reached up his second hand to mess with even more with his hair. Now with his hands free, Sherlock reached for John's hips and opened his eyes.

"I don't-"

Sherlock was cut off by John's lips, laying a delicate kiss over his lips. The action was nimble, and very simple, but it took Sherlock's breath away. His heart stopped pumping and he heard only the sound of John's kiss finish.

"Sherlock, I don't care what you think or need or want. I'm so happy you're back." Now it was John who was crying. Things were getting back to normal.

Or better than normal. John's lip was clean from any mustache and he was tearing, Sherlock was home and not sobbing, and they were together.

Sherlock gently pressed his forehead against John's, knowing their lips were only a short distance from each other. He felt like he had never kissed John in the first place, and this was their first, exciting, breath-taking kiss.

Sherlock tipped his head and pressed his lips against John's lips, groaning when John finally kissed back with a passion.

Such heat and friction. John rubbed his chest and Sherlock rubbed his hips. But the only thing they could think about was what was happening between their faces.

Somehow they pulled away and John stood up quickly, knowing that would break them apart. However, Sherlock followed. He stood up just as quickly and slid his hand into place beside John's face.

He tipped the doctor's face and kissed his slowly, breathing in the sweet scent of his friend..or, more than friend. "John, I missed you." John pulled at Sherlock's belt, which brought their bodies closer.

"I missed you, Sherlock."

"Apparently too much!" A shrill, and loud voice sounded from behind Sherlock and he grabbed onto John to keep him close.

John's head popped over Sherlock's shoulder, and his eyes widened. He made a move to get away from Sherlock, but the Detective had him in a tight grip, kissing his neck.

John stared at Mary, frantically trying to get away from the other man.

"Sherlock, let me go!"

"Oh no, no, you'll need him once I leave!" Sherlock grinned, knowing the woman was sobbing. Good, she should leave and take her pitiful crying with her. "You'll need someone to give you some sort of pleasure only a woman can give!" Her voice was fading and John struggled to escape.

Sherlock released him and John pushed him against the sink, stumbling after his girlfriend. "Mary! Please, Mary! It's not what it looks like!"

"Oh no, it's exactly what it looks like." Sherlock whispered once he knew John was far enough away not to hear.

Sherlock pulled the cuffs of his coat up and grinned, striding into the living room to where John and Mary were squawking at each other.

Mary, of course, was making most of the sound.

"Why didn't you just tell me you ditched me for some.." She glared at him. "..coat man!" She apparently didn't know who he was.

Sherlock now looked at the tiny lady. She was pale and blonde, and had a fierce mood at the moment. She looked like she enjoyed dressing up in fancy clothes. She was definitely very feminine.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and stepped forward into place beside John.

"Do you know who I am?" He interrupted John and looked at Mary, disgusted by everything he saw.

"Do I need to know? Will you be staying? You should not be with my John." Mary reached out to John's hand and took it, pulling the doctor with her. She jutted her tiny chin out.

Sherlock let his jaw open, and looked at the ground. "I suppose I don't need him. Let me say goodbye?" He didn't let John, or Mary choose.

As swift as lightning, Sherlock grabbed John's pants and pulled him into an embrace. With a strong hand, he grabbed John's hair and gave him a meaningful kiss on the lips while Mary watched.

John was surprised as well, gasping and grabbing Sherlock's shoulders. He blinked and shook his head, stepping away towards Mary. A single glance into Sherlock's eyes told him that John had been caught.

Sherlock grinned and put both his hands behind him, nodding at Mary. "I'll be off."