All it took for him to turn to jelly was a single smile. His smile. Not just anyone's smile, but his. To see John happy again was all Sherlock ever wanted, but to be what inspired that smile...well he assumed those days were long gone.

Apparently a consulting detective could be wrong from time to time about sentiment. He never understood it, sentiment. Mycroft practically engraved it into him that sentiment was weakness. John was his weakness. Moriarty knew that though, and hopefully as time goes on Sherlock will be forgiven for what he had to do to see that especially John lived.

Brought out of his thoughts by a concerned look on John's face he shakes his head slightly so that it's not too noticeable.

John catches this slight movement and cocks his head ever so slightly. "What are you think about?"

"You," Sherlock was never one for romantics, but sometimes he has his moments, "and how I'll never understand what you see."

There's that smile again.

Sherlock smiles, a true smile that he only lets John ever see, "Smiling suits you, Sherlock."

The chairs seem like thousands of miles apart, oceans apart, maybe even a world away, but John stands and moves to Sherlock's chair and sits on the arm of it. "I could dare say the same of you, John. You absolutely glow, and your smile does unspeakable things to me." Sherlock admits aloud.

"Oh does it now?" John arches a brow as he leans in closer to Sherlock, now having conveniently fallen into his lap practically straddling the younger man.

John takes his sweet time knowing what it does to Sherlock's patience.

A few light kisses to his neck, his cheek, a clothed nipple. Spending different intervals of time at each spot and giving different attentions to each.

Attacking Sherlock's neck with small kisses and nips, sucking ad repeating, knowing there will be a mark later and smirking in his ministrations.

Avoiding his lips, allowing few kisses to his cheeks and surrounding area so that he still maintains control.

And finally moving from nipple to nipple, kissing one and rolling the other between thumb and forefinger making them erect little beads. Sweeping his tongue over Sherlock's night shirt and soaking each one identifying that that's the spot they would be perking from because of him.

John rolled his hips torturously slow against Sherlock's and finally allowed himself to let Sherlock take control with his work of foreplay finished..for now.

Sherlock wasted no time in taking over John and bucked his hips up a little faster than the pace John decided on. "Bedroom?" He asked John, almost too far gone too form comprehensive sentences.

"Y-yes..." John answered as Sherlock decided to thrust his hips up a little to hear John falter slightly.

"Wrap your legs around my waist.."

John waisted no time in doing so and the two moved out of the sitting room and into their bedroom.

Funny how a single smile can be so persuasive.