Chapter Two

They decided to make use of the rest of the day by strolling through the city. Well, John wanted to stroll, Sherlock hoped for a crime he could solve, or at least a mystery. From the way he looked at John with something resembling glee he could tell that Sherlock was ready to cause some trouble if nothing else came up.

But, as far as John could tell, Sherlock didn't steal anything from any of the stores they visited; he ate his lunch without being overly seductive or silly about it; he even chatted with an elderly lady who owned a little corner shop into which Sherlock had insisted on going, without telling him why. John scanned through the magazines and then the papers, wondering whether Moriarty's death would be on the news. The thought made him feel slightly ill, so he stopped browsing and turned around, watching Sherlock casually lean against the counter, chatting away happily.

John wondered whether a bomb would go off anytime soon, because this was definitely not normal Sherlock-behaviour.

"Sherlock, let's go to the museum or to Wolvesey Castle?" John picked up a bag of humbugs and joined him at the counter.

"Yes, it's quite lovely out today, isn't it? You should go and visit the castle. They said it might clear up a bit. It's almost February and everyone is ready for some sunshine," the lady said with a smile.

John smiled, too, thinking for a moment that spring would eventually mean warmth, which would eventually mean no coat on Sherlock, which would then lead to lots of unobscured views on a certain arse in tight trousers. Sherlock met his eyes and smirked.

"This is John," Sherlock then said, and for a second John thought he would add something to explain who he was, but nothing more followed.

"Hello," he said, giving a wave, feeling silly.

"This is Natalia," Sherlock explained after a moment, "she used to work for Mycroft."

"No," John stared at her, wondering how in the world she had ended up here.

"She was a double agent. Sadly the cold war ended while she was still in Russia. So she was moved here and received a new name and …" Sherlock looked around the shop, "… job."

"You're a spy?" John didn't quite believe Sherlock, but then again Sherlock usually didn't lie to him.

"An informant," she said, reaching out to shake his hand. John winced at how strong she was.

"Yes, an informant who knows seventy two ways of ending your life with just her left hand," Sherlock grinned. He seemed almost proud and John wondered whether there was history between them.

"Erm. Nice to meet you," he pulled away his hand and stretched his fingers out.

"You're still not on speaking terms, you and your brother, are you?" Natalia nodded before Sherlock had a chance to react. "One day you two will have a little heart to heart, I gather. You can't despise one another all your lives."

"John, let's go and visit that castle you just spoke of," Sherlock said, gently pushing against John.

But John just grinned and stood his ground. "So they did get along once, didn't they?"

Natalia smiled knowingly and nodded. "Can't tell you that story, though. I'm sure my new identity might not forever remain a secret if either of those boys learned that I'd spill their secrets."

John laughed and gently squeezed Sherlock's arm. "Alright, I don't want to endanger your well being. The wrath of the Holmeses is infamous."

Sherlock stared at him with narrowed eyes. "What do you mean, wrath?"

John smirked and waved at Natalia. "I think it's time to leave. Oh, and I'll take these." He pushed Sherlock to the side to place the mint humbugs on the counter. Sherlock was positively buzzing behind him, but he tried to ignore that.

"Aren't you bored here?" John asked as he dug for his wallet, wondering whether he had left it at home. But then he remembered that he had already bought lunch. "Oh, I'm sorry, I must have left my …"

Natalia grinned and pushed John's wallet over the counter towards him. Sherlock snorted. "Still pulling that old trick, huh?"

John was a tiny bit embarrassed, but mostly impressed. "How did you do that?"

"Sorry, can't tell you." She grinned and John wondered just how quick and strong she must have been when she was younger.

"Alright then," he grinned, handing over the money he owed her for the candy. "It was very interesting meeting you."

"Likewise, John Watson," she smiled.

Sherlock was almost out of the door when she called him back. "I think you've forgotten something, too." Her smile turned into a somewhat wicket grin and John couldn't help but grin along.

Sherlock smoothly strode back towards her, but almost fell over his feet when she pushed a small silver packet and a plastic tube towards him. John had never seen Sherlock blush as quickly and brightly as he did right in this moment.

John just watched him, biting his lower lip, fighting down the laughter which threatened to double him over.

"Thank you, Natalia. Most impressive. Good day."

He had grabbed the condom and lube and was out of the store before John could straighten up again.

"He still hates it when you best him," the former spy grinned, "and yet he does make it so very easy."

"That was indeed impressive. Good thing there are no other people here; he would have a fit if you had done this to him in public."

Natalia nodded and then pointedly looked at the corner across from the door, where a small camera was placed.

"Woops," John started to giggle but then thought better of it and grabbed his humbugs and made for the door. "If you're ever in London, you know? Give us a ring?"

"Sure, darling." She smiled and sat down behind the counter, looking again like the regular elderly shop keeper John had initially thought her to be.

He couldn't see Sherlock when he stepped out of the shop, and for a second he was worried that something had happened to him. He stopped, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Everything was alright. Nothing was happening to Sherlock, or him; well, nothing apart from randomly meeting double agents turned pick pockets.

He could feel Sherlock's presence behind him before she spoke. "The castle?" He stood close to him, but didn't touch him. John wondered what the real reason for his embarrassment had been; the fact that an old friend had found out that he was actually having a sex life or the fact that he had not realised that he had been pick pocketed. He doubted it was Mycroft; because Mycroft knew where they were and he doubtlessly knew what they were doing and ….

"Sherlock, why did you bring condoms?"

He turned around, but found that he was alone again. "Oi, Sherlock," he called out, feeling the incredible urge to snog him on the middle of the street with a whole lot of people watching them. It felt strange to realise that he didn't care about that anymore. He was most certainly aware that their kissing would most likely offend quite a lot of people; but for him, it felt like an important step towards accepting their relationship and what it entailed.

"Coming?" Sherlock's lips brushed his ear and he shivered.

"Not yet," he retorted and slipped an arm around Sherlock's waist before he could run off again.

"Very funny," Sherlock remarked drily, but his lips twitched.

"Thank you," John answered with a grin. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to kiss my husband."

He could sense Sherlock wanting to comment, but before he could say anything, John had both hands in Sherlock's hair and his tongue inside the consulting detective's mouth. It had been a while since he had been consulting, John thought, giggling into the kiss, hoping his brain wouldn't come up with more dirty connections to everyday life vocabulary; otherwise everyone would think him mental before the month was out.

Eventually he pulled away, standing on his feet again as he had risen to his toes for better access to Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock followed him down and tried to continue kissing him, but John knew that it wasn't the best of ideas to kiss like this in the middle of a busy street; especially since Sherlock's hand had somehow found a way under his clothes and he was now stroking up and down his back.

"We're going to be arrested," John chuckled and finally detached himself from Sherlock entirely.

"So?"

"Bit not good?"

"You started it."

"I know."

"So?"

"The castle. Let's go find that castle."

Wolvesey Castle was just around the corner, as everything else in Winchester, John thought with a smile. The ruins of what must have been an impressive building once stood out naked and grey in the sunlight. A small footpath led into the different rooms, now gaping holes and large empty squares. There were arched doors in the thick stone walls which in some cases led into smaller rooms and soon they found themselves alone in something which felt suspiciously like a dungeon. Sherlock smiled and crowded John against the wall.

"Where were we?"

"Nice alliteration there," John grinned and ducked out of Sherlock's grip.

"John!" Sherlock moved quietly over the gravel to block the entrance. The single gesture made John's pulse speed up.

"We were doing touristy things," John belatedly answered Sherlock's question. "Also, since when you do you reveal secret identities of secret agents?"

"Only on good days," Sherlock smiled, but John could tell that he was still uncomfortable thinking about what had happened earlier.

"Do you want to actually have sex with me? I mean, outside the hotel?" John had to ask. He couldn't just ignore that Sherlock had brought a condom on their 'stroll'. "You do realise that it's just above zero degrees, right?"

"Just in case," Sherlock leaned against the wall, avoiding John's eyes. "Because yesterday I think it would have been …"

John started laughing. "Imagine their faces if they had wanted to steal the sheep and instead would have found us going at it like teenagers."

Sherlock blushed again and John wondered how much hell he would get from Sherlock if he took a picture of him now. His hand settled on the camera in his pocket when Sherlock finally looked at him again.

"Can we go back?"

"No." John wondered if he'd ever stop grinning again.

"This isn't working, is it?" Sherlock sighed and stepped aside, making sure John could leave if he wanted to. John remained standing where he was.

"Sherlock, I'm just teasing you."

They both stood there for a while, silent and unmoving and John wondered whether Sherlock was actually upset or whether it was part of whatever game it was he had been playing with him. Just when he decided to say something inappropriate to test him, two children came running through the entrance, shouting at the walls to test the echo.

Sherlock stood and watched and eventually turned around and left. John frowned at where Sherlock had disappeared through the wall, wondering whether he had said something wrong. But even if he had; Sherlock had never really been the type to just walk away. Well, from everybody else, at least. John sighed, remembering countless instances when he had made fun of Sherlock just to see him walk out of the room in the next moment. Was it possible that Sherlock had developed a similar habit as he had?

"John, come along." Sherlock poked his head through the door and then jumped back as the two children raced each other out of the room.

"Sherlock, come back in here," John spoke quietly, but he knew Sherlock had heard.

He had to wait for a few seconds, but then Sherlock walked back in, hands in the pockets of his coat. "What did just happen?" John asked him, needing to know that Sherlock was alright, which he didn't seem to be.

"How do you mean?"

"You said that this isn't working," John stated, watching Sherlock closely, "What isn't working?" He couldn't read Sherlock's face, but he could see that his hands were curled into fists in his pockets. "Sherlock, are you alright?" He stepped closer and carefully placed his hands on Sherlock's fists. "Why are you angry?"

"I'm not." Sherlock stared at a point behind John's head.

"Is it because I made fun on you for wanting to have sex?" John wanted to make him look at him, but he didn't dare remove his hands from Sherlock's. "If it is, I'm sorry. It doesn't mean that I don't want us to do it, but it's just the fact that you're always thinking of everything; of every little detail; but when it comes to sex, you're just …" He didn't want to offend him further by calling him normal; but Sherlock clearly knew what he was driving at. John held on faster, just in case Sherlock wanted to walk away again. "And it's amazing, because I'm not used to you being so surprisingly …" Again, no word would suffice to express what he felt without at the same time sounding like a derogative to Sherlock. He grew frustrated with himself, and with Sherlock, who just stood there as if he didn't hear a word he was saying.

"Listen," he let go of him and stepped back, watching as Sherlock's blank expression gave way to something like pain. "I'm just not used to having a partner who is so …"

"Demanding?" Sherlock offered, his voice rough around the edges. "Selfish? Stup…"

"Shut up, Sherlock." John started to understand what Sherlock's problem was. "You have every right in the world to be all of the above, but you're not. You're not and it's blowing my mind. You're considerate. You, Sherlock, are considerate, and sweet and for Christ's sake you blush all the bloody time and it's so very special." He stopped to catch his breath, knowing that it was now his own turn to blush. Sherlock stared at him, apparently not quite comprehending what he was saying. "A few weeks ago I had no idea that you had it in you; and that I had it in me, too. I had no idea. And then you singlehandedly changed the way I see the world; again. And then you just happen to bring me here on a romantic holiday that stands in for our honeymoon and every time I try to wrap my mind around this, I feel like I'm really close to losing it."

John turned around, digging at the gravel with his shoe. "So when I tease you, it's not because I want to point out any weaknesses of yours, which I know you are already extremely aware of; I just try to remind myself that it's you who is doing this to me. And this doesn't make any sense now, does it?" John turned around and was almost swept off his feet when Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and kissed him, only letting him go when John started to tug as his clothes.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock spoke quietly. "I didn't …"

"It's okay, I don't understand it either." John kissed him again. "You okay?"

Sherlock nodded, but somehow John knew that this conversation wasn't over. All of this was still in its early stage. No matter how well they had known each other and no matter how well they worked, everything had changed, and it would be a great effort to make sure that this change meant only good things.

"Just tell me when I step on your toes, okay? You of all people know what a blind idiot I can be sometimes and with you I never felt like I had to hold back." John looked up at him and finally Sherlock held his gaze.

"And I don't want you to hold back, John."

"Right, so what do we do?"

"We go home and have sex," Sherlock grinned, "but not before I have found the false angle."

"The what?"

"There is a rumour about a misconstruction of the main hall which made it a lot easier for the Roundheads to destroy it in the 1640s. A secret organisation of stone masons must have kept the secret all those years since it was built."

John simply grinned at Sherlock, keeping his mouth firmly shut.

"I don't know why I know this," Sherlock said, looking a little irritated. "What exactly did we do last night?" And John snorted and shrugged. "You apparently read all the tourist information leaflets at the hotel. Did we check whether either of us have any surprise tattoos or piercings?"

"I would have stopped you," Sherlock sounded very certain.

"Why?"

"Because," Sherlock clearly tried not to be intimidated by his own thoughts, "I would have wanted to be sober for that."

"Right," John made a face but then remembered what Sherlock had said about his oversensitive nipples and suddenly he found that this construction mistake in the castle wall was surely something very important to find out about.

They silently walked through the castle, Sherlock's eyes moving quickly up and down the walls, his hands creating imaginary shapes in the air while his steps grew fast and slow again when he saw something which caught his eye. John got dizzy watching him. He decided to blame the fact that since the piercing remark, a lot of blood had left his head as it was needed elsewhere.

"There!" Sherlock pointed at a corner. "It's crooked."

"Is it?" John really tried to be interested, but found that he was much more interested in the view he got of Sherlock's backside, now that the raised arm tightened the coat against his body.

"It must have been. John give me the camera."

He heard him speak, but he couldn't make much sense of the words. So he simply looked at Sherlock's face when he walked over to him, frowning in irritation. "John?"

"Hmm?"

"Camera?" John knew he was supposed to move now and it really wouldn't be so hard to lift and arm and pull the camera out of his coat pocket. But then Sherlock's body was so much more satisfying to touch. His indecision left him standing there, unmoving.

Sherlock shook his head and stepped even closer, trying to get to the camera himself. Somehow they ended up kissing, pressed into the exact same corner which Sherlock had just declared to have been responsible for the destruction of the entire building. "It is impressive and slightly worrying how your intellect just vanished," Sherlock chuckled into John's ear.

"I said you make me lose my mind," John retorted, trying to keep his hands from cupping Sherlock's erection. His hands were apparently not controlled by his brain anymore. Sherlock gasped and pressed closer.

"I didn't think you meant it quite so …" he grunted and John moaned, "… literal."

It was very obvious that they needed to stop before neither of them would know how to.

"Are we done here?" John was very adamant at changing the topic, and the location.

"I think we are," Sherlock pushed John away from him and closed his coat. "And if we get arrested I will make sure that they know it was your fault."

"This time I'll gladly take the blame," John smirked. "But only if we get to share a cell. Imagine Greg trying to bail us out!"

Sherlock chuckled. "He wouldn't. He'd sit in his flat, open a bottle of lager and enjoy the fact that he wouldn't have to worry about us for a night."

"No photos, though?" John held out the camera.

"No, what would I need a photo for?" Sherlock smirked and walked away, leaving John chuckling and straightening his clothes.