Echoing squeaks danced through the dim-light air. Against the squeaks came other vibrations of noise - noise that fit the situation quite well.

"U-ung!" Slurred groans came from the curly haired male as his body rocked back and forth in pleasurable movements. The intensity and sheer pleasure of the moment could literally be seen both on the male's facial features and the shiny perspiration that now riddled his body from such actions.

From the other male came grunts of thickly slurred ecstasy as the male atop him gently rolled his body against his own. This wasn't something new to the both of them. It was something that, since recent proposals of love for one another, happened often now - especially when Sherlock grew bored of breathing or whatnot. John could easily take that boredom away.

The bottom male - obviously John - could be heard making soft and panted grunts, his eyes closing tightly as Sherlock's thrusts grew faster with each ticking second. He felt a shudder take over his body, his lips parting as he called out his lover's name. "S-Sherlock...!" He breathed, chest rising and falling rapidly as the amount of pleasure continued to grow and grow until he thought he would just burst.

Saying Sherlock's name apparently had brought the rising climax upon the curly haired male as he began to move with much more speed, his hands clutching tighter on John's shoulders as his own grunts mingled with the smaller male's.

And just as John thought the pleasure would explode, he felt his body shudder with a thrust that parted his lips in a thick gasp. Thinking it would be over then and there, John held his breath and glanced up at Sherlock with a fiery passion in his optics, and in that last second looking into his partner's eyes, John swore he saw something like fear - Sherlock was actually showing emotion? - pass through those clear blue eyes.

And just like that there was darkness.

"...John. John."

The word seemed foreign to him for the longest.
"John!"

A pause.

Then a long huff.

"John? I can tell your conscious by the flutters under your eyelids."

The voice sounded watered down and alien to his ears as he listened to them. Yeah, he was conscious, but what was wrong? Why was somebody calling to him in such a tone? ... "Sherlock...?"

Almost as slow as a snail's crawl, John finally allowed his eyes to part open and let in the light. Everything seemed watery and blurred to him for the longest, but soon clarity came back to him and he realized that he was sitting in the main room of the flat, but something was...different.

Head pounding, John slowly turned to look up at a crease-worried Sherlock that soon expressed relief in those handsome eyes of his as the blue met up with his own gaze. "Ugh..." John grunted, slowly raising a hand up to feel his cranium. He was surprised to feel heat radiating off his temple and even more surprised to feel a tender and somewhat swollen knot upon him as well. "What...happened?" He sighed out, his eyes fluttering as his head protested at the light coming from the windows.

Sherlock seemed to flutter nervously before he shook away all emotion and eyed his flatmate. "Your head impacted the head of the bed quite hard. You were out over twenty-four hours."

The words had to settle in John's mind for a long time. Wait. What? His head hit the front of the bed? How?

Then the memories flooded back.

John felt his blood run warm underneath his flesh before he shook his head to his best abilities. Had Sherlock not taken him to the hospital for such an injury? It was likely he had had a concussion. But then again, perhaps Sherlock hadn't wanted him out of his sight and merely decided to tend to him here. Protective and a bit dumb on his part, but sweet as well. It made John crack a dry smile. "At least make a bag of ice for this throbbing knot, and some medication for the pain would do as well." He touched at the knot once again, assessing as to how large it was; about the size of a quarter, maybe a tad larger. He would survive - if the headache didn't split his cranium in half first.

Moments passed before footsteps coming back from the kitchen made John peer his eyes open and looked around. A faint shadow told him that Sherlock had returned, a plastic bag with a few chunks of clear ice in his hand along with his other hand full of pain medication. If John hadn't of known Sherlock, he would have said the taller male was something of a doctor. But John was the doctor in this flat.

The voice was rich and smooth as it came to John's waiting ears, his eyes fluttering up to observe the man standing above him. "I hope this will suffice," Sherlock commented as he handed the items to John, the smaller male taking them both gratefully.

"Thanks," John responded with a soft smile before slowly letting the ice bag come up to the knot. He winced at first, the ice cold hissing fitfully against the knot that was like the Hell to the Antarctica that had just covered it up. He knew it would be painful, but soon the frozen moisture would numb it and the pain would be away for a few hours or so.

Sherlock's shadow seemed to shorten in movement. John glanced up and could tell that his flatmate was moving in closer - a kiss perhaps? John was sure of it, and he was prepared to return the affectionate gesture that Sherlock gave only every now and then as it was usually John that went for the first kiss; mostly out of the public eye, of course, they had yet to truly state their current relationship, though John did suspect that Mrs. Hudson had caught on by now.

Just when John was closing his eyes, the female mentioned knocked on the door, calling out their names in her wondering voice.

"Boys?" She called before she paused. "Sherlock?"

Pulling back, Sherlock gave a small sigh and made his way to the door, opening it swiftly for Mrs. Hudson. "If you can to inquire about John's current condition, he's conscious and all vital signs seem normal. The little knot is now larger, but nothing we cannot handle." And as he said that, he turned to glance at John as he moved to look at . He merely nodded and gave her a smile to show that he would be just fine with a little tender care.

Mrs. Hudson blinked a few times and then nodded. "Well, you two stay out of trouble." With that, she was gone just as quickly as she had arrived. Maybe now Sherlock and John would be able to finish out that kiss.

Almost as soon as Mrs. Hudson had left, instinct took over John and he couldn't help but pull himself upward and motion for Sherlock to return to his side. The tall male took no time to get there, his blue eyes bearing down on John in that way that made shivers run down the former military man's spine. Oh, those eyes...

Apparently Sherlock knew what was coming.

He had bent down just low enough for John to stretch up from the chair he was in and lock his lips against Sherlock's own. That shiver down John's spine seemed to intensify as they shared a moment of affection for a few seconds. Sherlock was the first to pull away, but John leaned forward to give a second touch of the lips, their eyes closed in the soft breathing of the passion.

A few more seconds passed before John took the final pull and leaned back into the chair he was in. He smiled softly up at his partner and saw a small twitch of a smile upon the curly haired man's lips. Oh, Sherlock could be a total bugger at times, but underneath the stoic outlook and the sarcasm and stubbornness, there was a soft heart that just needed something to tie him down to reality. It was safe to say that Sherlock was the head and John was the heart. And every relationship needed that.

Clearing his throat, Sherlock turned to show his back towards John. "I assume you're hungry now?"

The words caught John off guard for a second as he listened to the statement that had been turned into a question. His shoulders shrugged as he lay the bag of ice down near him. "Now that you say something, yes, a little something wouldn't hurt." Then his brows creased. "Are you suggesting you make me something?"

Sherlock turned to look over at him. "You're not stable enough for walking just yet, nonetheless holding sharp objects such as a knife. By the way you squint your eyes, I'm sure the headache is splitting and you just want some relief. I may not have cooking experience, but I'm sure I can boil water or make a soup of the sorts."

"Sher-"

Sherlock cut John off and gave him a look that seemed to tell him to not argue with the decision.

John sighed. "I'm fine enough to help if you need. Or if you are so intent on keeping me in this chair, ask Mrs. Hudson for assistance." His words were airy as he spoke, but he was truly happy inside to hear that Sherlock was truly trying to make this bearable for him.

"Try to rest," Sherlock murmured softly and leaned down once more like earlier to give a soft peck on John's forehead.

John chuckled softly and smiled at the man before he nodded. "Alright." As Sherlock's footsteps echoed into the kitchen, John found himself closing his eyes to try and fall into a light slumber for the time being.

Sleep had come easily for the injured man. As soon as he had closed his eyes, slumber wrapped around him like a cozy snake coil. As his slumber drifted on, the time seemed only seconds before his eyes opened back up and his senses came back to him. The smell of warm flavors drifted to him. It was the all too simple scent of soup. Warm soup. Soup that seemed well cooked, decent, delicious even.

The form of Sherlock fluttered into vision as John let consciousness take over. He soon realized that the headache had subsided for now, but the knot throbbed against his head as all feeling returned to his battered and sore body.

"It's on the coffee table next to you."

John blinked at Sherlock's words and then turned his head slowly. The steaming soup was exactly where Sherlock said it was. With a steady hand, John reached out and took the warm bowl gently into his hands. A spoon was already inside, swirling about in the light broth that the soup had been poured into. "Thanks," he murmured, letting the warm scents of soup noodles, vegetables, and meat drift around him as it warmed the air around. "You actually made it look good," he teased, smirking softly at Sherlock.

A sigh of light amusement came from Sherlock's lips. "Mrs. Hudson did help some," he admitted, albeit a bit defensively on his part as if he couldn't cope with the idea of needing help for soup. Hey, he had tried and that was what truly counted. Right? Right.

John chuckled and slowly slipped his finger over to the spoon and clutched on to it as he allowed it to spoon up the soup and take it into his mouth as he slipped it between his lips and let the warmth and savory flavor spread through his battered body. "This is truly nice of you. You don't have to do it, you know."

"It's what any partner would do for their lover, isn't it?" Sherlock inquired with a gleam in his clear blue eyes.

John swallowed down a sip of the soup before nodding. "Oh, yes, but you don't have to do all of this." His words were carefully thought as out he spoke.

The other male shrugged his shoulders, the scarf around his broad shoulders crinkling with the movement. "It's a way of showing I care, John." The words were so smooth and pure, so truthful and light that it made John stop from placing another mouthful of soup down his throat.

"You're much too adorable when you act like this," he mused softly and gave a little snort-laugh as he took one last sip from the soup and then placed it back on the coffee table half-eaten. "And it's just another reason why I love you."

Night had fallen by now. The outside world was cloaked with darkness as the stars glittered weakly in the sky's hold. A waxing gibbous moon showed its face through faint cloud cover as the wispy clouds drifted silently through the timid air. Though the night shrouded the world, cars and even shouts from various people could be heard just outside the flat. It was just the average night in this town.

"Sherlock?"

The voice broke the silence in the room as the two lay upon the bed underneath the warm sheets.

"Hmm?" Came a reply, soft and laced with a hint of tired inquiry.

It took a moment for the reply from John to come. "Thanks for what you did today. The swelling is almost gone and the headache vanished hours ago."

"Anybody else would have done the same," Sherlock answered swiftly, his head turning to look at his partner. His movement shifted the covers somewhat, exposing a drift of air to John's side. He quickly fixed that in a swift movement and fell comfortable once again.

John sighed slowly and looked at Sherlock as they lay there together. "But you're not like anyone else. Having you do all this for me was something better than just you doing something sweet." His words felt so true as they slipped from his tongue and into the air as they made their way into Sherlock's ears.

More movement came from the man. "Are you telling me it's odd that I care about you? If so, why should it be?"

John shook his head. "No, don't worry about it." He smiled and moved in the bed, coming up to snuggle against Sherlock's warm body. He let out a content sigh and closed his eyes for a second until they snapped open when he felt a hand gently brush through his hair with a soft touch. It made the smile still on his face grow.

The shorter male, after a few minutes of this, couldn't help but roll up and then found himself atop his partner and straddling him by the hips as he looked down into Sherlock's blue gaze. "What do you say we finish what we started last night?" He inquired in a soft tone, his hands brushing against Sherlock's still clothed chest.

The man now on bottom gave a chuckle and looked to John with a smirk. "Just don't knock me unconscious."

John rolled his eyes with humor dancing in them. "Don't worry. We'll take it nice and slow tonight..."