AN: I do not own the characters to this.

Enjoy!

Watson's gone, Sherlock, he isn't coming back. He's married now, and forever gone.

No, Sherlock didn't want to believe that. He didn't want to even think about Watson being away. He would lie awake in the middle of the night, thinking that Watson was coming back, but he wasn't coming back. He didn't know what to do with himself, since Sherlock find himself on the floor many days with the door locked, and drugged up on cocaine. The amount of times he wanted to believe that Watson wasn't coming back; his mind always yelled at him, that he wasn't going to.

By this time, he just wanted to stay inside, but his cases would always give him something to do. Though, it felt empty since Watson wasn't there with him. They did about almost every case together, and to not have him here was worse. He stayed quiet as Lestrade told him about the case, but he didn't pay attention much to him anyways. He was too busy thinking about the case and his fellow companion.

"Holmes?" Lestrade broke him from his thought.

"Yes?" the detective asked, lifting his eyes to the man. He was tired, since he hasn't slept in days because of this. "You look like you have not slept in days, go," he said, waving him off.

He didn't even protest Lestrade, but instead left, and walked back to the flat of Baker Street. He stayed away from the sidewalks, but kept to the alleys so he wouldn't walk into anybody, or even encounter someone he didn't want too.

Once he made it inside, he avoided Mrs. Hudson, and went straight upstairs, seeing his door ajar some. He swore he shut it when he left. He slowly approached the door, and pushed it open, seeing a figure over by the window. He knew that figure from anywhere.

"Watson…" Sherlock spoke, his voice soft, and he dropped his gaze, so the other man couldn't see his eyes. He could hear the man's footsteps, and his jacket hit the floor. He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what he was doing. He felt Watson's cane under his chin, and his head was lifted up. Those familiar piercing blue eyes, which locked onto his dark brown eyes, seemed to be staring into his soul.

"Sherlock, you've been drugged up again," Watson removed his cane, setting it aside, and practically threw himself at Sherlock. He pressed his lips to the other man's, tasting his lips, always wanting to do that. He tangled his fingers into his dark curls, deepening the kiss a little.

Sherlock was a little surprised by the action, but he melted into the kiss. He ran his hands up his back, moving his fingers to his hair, knocking off his hat, feeling the hair between his fingers.

He was lost in the kiss, that he didn't even realize he was on his back, with his clothes off, and his legs were spread. He could see a small smirk on Watson's lips, and his eyes were darker. His breath hitched in his throat, as he felt the other's cock invade him. He arched his back off the floor, closing his eyes. The other man didn't stop there; he kept pushing until he was deep enough. He thrusted into him slowly, smirking, watching the brunette wither beneath him.

"Sherlock, don't deny this. You love this," Watson whispered, leaning down as he kissed him, without stopping his hips. He moved them faster, hearing small moans leave the detective's lips. Sherlock couldn't even speak, he only nodded. What he was feeling, he couldn't explain or being to describe it. He just wanted to more, because…Watson was finally back, and hopefully for good. He wrapped his legs around the other, moving his hips, matching his movements. He dug his nails into the floor, letting moans and gasps leave his lips.

Watson raked his nails down his sides, missing the way his voice sounded. He missed everything about this man. He would lie awake at night, thinking of him, and what he was doing. He always wondered if Sherlock was ever going to be okay, but it seems like he was, except the cocaine. That was the only thing he didn't like about Sherlock. He was broken from his thoughts when he heard Sherlock calling him, and his heels digging into his backside.

Sherlock could feel his stomach start to clench, and watched as his lover leaned down, latching his teeth onto one of his nipples. He let out a soft scream, his fingers finding his hair again, pulling at it. He heard a moan leave Watson's lips, and he swore that was the most erotic sound he ever has heard in his life. Even some of his old lover's never had sounds like that leave their lips before. He felt Watson's lips on his neck, and then felt a sharp pain.

"Mine," he growled, leaving his mark. Watson did like marking his territory, and if he was ever going too, it was going to be all over Sherlock. His lips moved up to his ear, nibbling on it softly. He could hear the man groaning, moaning, and he felt his nails in his back. He dropped his hand down, wrapping his fingers around the other's cock, stroking him quickly, matching his thrusts.

"Oh…yes, Watson!" Sherlock screamed out in pleasure, feeling that he was close to release. He wanted to tell Watson, but he probably knew by the way, his body was tensing up. He bucked his hips into the man's hand, as he was coming undone, and came into his hand. "Oh, Watson…God," he breathed, feeling his body relax a bit, but he knew Watson was going to be a little after him, since his thrusts gotten rougher, and faster. He heard Watson yell out his name, which sounded glorious to him. He moaned out when he felt the man's release, tensing up.

Watson collapsed next to him, his breathing heavy from the activity the two just indulged in. He looked up at him, seeing a frown cross Sherlock lips. "What's the matter?" he asked softly, pulling him closer to the other. He wanted to know if the reason Sherlock was like this, was because of him.

"You were away, Watson. I thought you were going to be gone forever," Sherlock barely whispered, burying his face into the doctor's neck. "I'm here to stay now. I'm yours and you are mine," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss to the man's head, smiling softly.

"Promise?" Sherlock asked.

"Promise," The doctor answered.