A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating. I wrote the second chapter a few weeks ago, but didn't like it so I've been sitting on it. I ended up rewriting most of it, and I like the way it came out. I would also like to just say I've been working on this since July...so there are no spoilers only the result of my fevered imagination. This is the slightly edited story with the correct name for Rosie.


The next morning after they had finished breakfast John's phone rang. He went into the other room to answer it while Sherlock finished cleaning up the kitchen. When John came back a moment later he was smiling.

"That was Lestrade, he said that he and Molly are going to come over tonight and watch Rosie so that you and I can have a night out."

Sherlock dried his hands on the dishtowel and then turned around to face John. This was new territory for him, dating, if that's what this was. There had always been partners in the past, but what they did could hardly be considered dating.

"Should we go to Angelo's?" John asked a stunned Sherlock.

"Sorry, yes, whatever you want to do," Sherlock replied. John folded his arms across his chest and opened his mouth to speak but at that moment Rosie started fussing in her high chair.


"We've arranged the whole thing, just go out and have fun. We'll take care of Rosie and see you tomorrow," Molly said as she ushered John and Sherlock out of the house. Both men seemed reluctant to leave Rosie, who was grinning happily up at Lestrade.

"Tomorrow?" Sherlock asked, he looked at John who didn't seem to find this surprising.

They got into the cab that was waiting for them, told the cabbie where to go and then lapsed back into silence. It was only once they were a few minutes from the restaurant that Sherlock spoke.

"Why did she say they'd see us tomorrow?"

"Don't worry about it, the entire night has been planned. All you have to do is enjoy yourself," John said. He gave Sherlock's hand a reassuring squeeze, and then left their hands linked together on the seat between them.

Sherlock did enjoy himself. When they were shown to their table it was ready for them, a small candle in the middle and their dinners were laid on the table a moment later. After they finished eating and had a few glasses of wine John suggested that they leave.

They got into a cab and John told the driver to take them to 221B Baker Street. For a moment Sherlock thought he had said the wrong address, surely there was no reason for them to be going back there. At least not yet. John had agreed he might move back there with Sherlock, but they hadn't discussed it any further.

When they got there John unlocked the door and led Sherlock upstairs. The lights were on and it smelled as if Mrs. Hudson had just finished cleaning it. Apparently everyone was in on his night with John.

"What is this all about?" Sherlock asked. He took his coat and scarf off and hung them up on the familiar coat hanger, watching as John did the same.

"I wanted to thank you for everything you have done for me. You dropped everything and you took care of me. You stopped taking cases, and gave up your experiments to make sure that me and Rosie were happy. Sherlock, you have saved me countless times, and I am forever grateful for that." John closed the distance between them until he had backed Sherlock against the wall.

"John, I would do anything for you…" Sherlock tried to insist that John was the one that saved him, but all he could concentrate on was John's body pressed against his. "How exactly do you plan on thanking me tonight?" Sherlock asked as John ran his fingers up Sherlock's chest. John grinned and then brought his lips to Sherlock's, silencing him with a kiss.

Sherlock soon was gasping for breath, John pushed off his suit jacket and then began to undo the buttons on his purple shirt. His fingers were steady, almost as if he had been practicing for this moment. Sherlock on the other hand felt unprepared. He kept trying to get John out of his shirt but John wouldn't let him take control.

Once Sherlock's shirt was off John began to kiss his neck, then he trailed his lips down until he was kneeling in front of Sherlock, his hands hovering over Sherlock's zipper. They locked eyes and Sherlock nodded, encouraging John to continue. He held his breath as he watched John undo his pants then tug them down slightly, just enough to free his straining erection.

Sherlock gasped when John took his cock into his mouth and it took all the strength he had to remain upright. He tangled his fingers in John's hair, his hips moving in time with John's mouth and hands. He tried holding on, wanting this moment to last longer but he knew he was on the verge of his orgasm.

"John…" Sherlock cried out as he came in John's mouth. John stood up and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, a large grin on his face.

Somehow Sherlock got his zipper done up and made his way to the couch. A few moments later John came from the kitchen with two glasses of wine. He handed one to Sherlock and then settled onto the couch next to him.

"I've never done that before, I hope I wasn't terrible at it," John said. They dissolved into a fit of giggles. As the night progressed they drank the bottle of wine Mrs. Hudson had left for them. They spent the night talking, laughing, and making love in the most unusual of places in the flat. Eventually they did make it to the bed.


When Sherlock woke up the next morning he rolled over to look at John who was still asleep. He tried to remember what it was like to wake up in bed alone, to spend all his time alone and to not know love. It hadn't been all that long ago, and yet it still seemed like a lifetime ago (no matter how sentimental that sounds).

By the time they emerged from the bedroom Mrs. Hudson had laid out breakfast for them. They ate in silence and barely looked at each other.

"How much time do we have left?" Sherlock asked.

"Not much," John said.

While they were putting on their coats Sherlock could tell that things weren't going to always be like this. He pinned John against the wall and kissed him. The entire night was already filed away in his mind palace. He needed to review everything that had happened, but he knew that was not how John did things. John needed action and affirmation. So Sherlock poured everything he felt (he really was starting to sound like John), in the kiss. John melted into him and they were halfway to the bedroom when Mrs. Hudson called up the stairs to tell them their cab was waiting.

"Let's go," John said offering Sherlock his hand.


Things between them didn't really change after that. Sherlock had known that they wouldn't-that they couldn't-not yet anyway. Life continued on much as it had before, with the exception that John would always kiss not just Rosie but also Sherlock goodbye if he went anywhere, and also that their personal boundaries had been forgotten while in bed.

There were still moments when Sherlock found himself watching John and wondering what else they could have. It sounded so boring, so sentimental, to dwell on these thoughts, but dwell he did. The more he focused on them the stronger they became, until it was as if there was a fire burning inside him. A fire that was fuelled by John, and his devotion to John.

One evening while John was in the shower Sherlock checked that Rosie was still asleep, and then slipped into the shower behind John.

"Jesus, Sherlock! You scared me," John said when Sherlock grabbed his waist. Sherlock chuckled and wrapped his arms around John, pulling their bodies together and placing a kiss on the side of John's face. "Is something wrong?"

"No, just wanted to be close to you," Sherlock murmured. John nodded and relaxed into the taller man's arms. They stayed that way until the water ran cold, and then they dried off and went back to bed, not bothering to put on their pajamas.


It had been more three weeks since their night together at 221B Baker Street, and they hadn't spoken of what had happened between them. They also hadn't had sex, or anything resembling sex, since then. Though Sherlock had been waiting for the moment that John would corner him for a blow job like before.

"Do you still want to be with me?" Sherlock whispered against John's chest. John went rigid, and he turned his head to look down at Sherlock who wasn't looking at him.

Sherlock had closed his eyes, preparing for the worst. His exhalations were shaky as he waited what felt like hours for an answer.

"Of course I do, why would you think I didn't? You're a genius, afterall," John said. He spoke softly and ran his fingers through Sherlock's damp curls soothingly. Sherlock fell asleep thinking about John's words, never actually giving him an answer for posing the question in the first place.


When Sherlock got up the next morning John was already gone and his side of the bed was cold. It was unusual for Sherlock to sleep so much later than John. He tried not to worry about that as he got dressed.

John was sitting at the kitchen table feeding Rosie. Sherlock made himself a cup of tea, sat down at his normal seat and watched John feed his daughter as his tea cooled. He was so lost in thought he didn't realize that John was talking to him.

"Did you hear me? Mrs. Hudson is going to take Rosie for a few hours tonight, so we can have a nice dinner," John repeated. Sherlock nodded, still slightly dazed by the idea. He drank his tea and wondered if this was why John had gotten up so early, and if this had anything to do with the previous night. Before he could get too lost in thought his phone buzzed, Lestrade was going to drop off some cases he thought Sherlock could help with. Today, of all days, he could use the distraction.

That evening Mrs. Hudson came to get Rosie, telling them she had a friend close by that had a weekly card game and they would love to see Rosie. Sherlock opened his mouth to protest about taking Rosie to a card game but John nudged him in the ribs and waved her off.

When the door was closed they stood in the doorway and looked at each other, unsure of what to do. John had made it sound like they were going to have a nice dinner together, which seemed unlikely as they had eaten not too long ago.

"Will you stop thinking for a minute? You're making me dizzy with all those rapid deductions," John said. He smiled and took a step forward, closing the gap between them. Sherlock did stop thinking, at least about anything other than what he and John were doing.

Twenty minutes before Mrs. Hudson was due back with Rosie they were sprawled on the living room floor, naked and covered in the throw blanket from the couch. John was laughing and watching Sherlock, who was lying on his back and smiling up at the ceiling. It had been a perfect evening, marred only by the knowledge that it was soon coming to an end. They fell silent, and for a few minutes lay on the floor and stared at the ceiling, both lost in thought. Finally Sherlock rolled onto his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Why is it always like this? Either normal domestic life with Rosie, or a passion fuelled blur of sex when we're alone? She normally sleeps through the night, so there would be chances then. We could have last night in the shower, but you never want that. Why, John?" Sherlock asked. His voice was thick with emotion which he was unable to disguise as simple curiosity. Sherlock was a changed man, this much he knew. Life had changed so drastically, and thrown so many curve balls at them that he had had to learned to change with them. Emotion was not a handicap-it was the reason for existence; it was what fueled them as people.

John sighed and sat up, the blanket pooled around his waist as he looked down at Sherlock. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, working on his response. Sherlock could see his mind working, he only wished he knew what was going on in there.

"Because, it doesn't seem real. Even these moments don't seem real to me. You naked with me and smiling. Laughing and shagging and doing things that a normal couple would do. You, Sherlock Holmes, are not ordinary and I don't want to weigh you down with my ordinary life."

Sherlock sat up and re-positioned so he could look at John. They had neglected to turn on the lights, they were bathed in the moonlight that spilled in through the windows. John was half hidden in shadow so Sherlock couldn't fully read his expression.

"You aren't weighing me down. I was the one that showed up on your doorstep and imposed myself on your life. I was the one that crawled into bed with you to sooth your pain. I was the one who knew you need sexual contact and gave you what you needed."

"What if someday you wake up and resent me and Rosie for hindering your brilliance? What if you decide that our life if boring and you leave us?"

"First, I believe she will be a scientist and I can help her develop those interests if you would only let me. Second, why would I ever leave you, John? I was so lost before I met you, and I'd be lost without you. My blogger, my John Watson." He said the last part softly, so softly John barely heard him.

John chuckled and leaned forward to kiss Sherlock. They didn't say anything else as they got dressed and cleaned the house up. It wasn't perfect, but for the moment it would suffice.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I already have some of the next chapter written, but I don't know how long it will take me to update so stayed tuned