It was seven when Sherlock opened his eyes, remembering the night's events and feeling like a fool. Self-hatred flooded through him, something he'd never experienced before the hallucination. He also remembered a soothing voice that helped him through the night and looked up and the man who still held him, kissing him softly on the cheek so as not to wake him. With a sigh, he wriggled his way out of John's arms, grabbed some clothes from the closet, and left John to sleep.

He dressed as he walked, jumping into a pair of trousers and pulling on a purple dress shirt that clung to him like a second skin. On the outside, he appeared alert, awake, and composed. On the inside, he was a child, a young Sherlock cowering from the damage done to his newfound emotions. He jogged down the steps to the living room, wishing he possessed his phone. John wouldn't let him bring it, the vacation was supposed to be about relaxing. He realized that relaxing was code for boring but John did have his way of making it worthwhile.

He walked onto the carpet and stepped over the coffee table to drop onto the couch, thinking about anything but the night before, thinking about whatever John was hiding. It couldn't be serious, he decided, because after that night, and all of those nights, he didn't see cause for him to hide something important. Perhaps, he thought, it was just something he was ashamed of.

Sherlock sighed and peeled himself off of the couch, feeling the need to busy himself with something. He left the house in bare feet, barely taking the time to shut the door behind him. It was another beautiful day as he walked around the grounds, the grass cool on his feet. He wandered toward the backyard where there was a large patio with sun chairs. He had no interest in sunbathing but there was a lovely, handcrafted chess table and set that sat in the sun. He strode through the golden rays and plopped into one of the chairs, set up the game, and played chess with himself to while away the time.

It was almost noon when Sherlock managed to stalemate himself. He packed away the pieces out of respect for the craftsmanship, not as a favor to his brother. He would've left the mansion in an awful state if Mycroft would've been the one to clean it up, just as Sherlock used to do to his room as kids. There wasn't much else around to do on his own so he decided to check on John. He lazily walked back inside and up the stairs to the proper room. He was about to open the door when he heard a voice on the other side.

"…I was just asking because you know him," John said, pausing to listen to the response. "Yes, yes, but you did live with him for a long time. I just want to know if he'll react well to this because I don't need him getting upset. You know how Sherlock is nowadays."

Sherlock's heart stopped. They were talking about him and, judging by what John was saying, he was talking to Mycroft.

"Well, thanks anyway. Yes, I hope he takes it well too. Bye."

Sherlock's mind was reeling. What had they been talking about? What were they thinking he would react badly to? He knew he would have to torture it out of his brother later. He waited another minute before knocking.

"John, are you up?"

"Yeah, come in."

He opened the door to see John sitting up in bed looking well-rested but reluctant to leave.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Just a couple of minutes. I was about to go and find you."

Sherlock left the door open and crawled onto the bed, settling himself beside John. "Is there anything you wanted to do today or just stay in bed?"

"I guarantee that it's going to rain tomorrow so we should get out today while it's nice," John said, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder.

"We could go into town," Sherlock suggested.

"You just want to go book shopping," John teased.

Sherlock shrugged. More like, I want you out of contact with my brother, he thought.

"All right," John said. "I'll get dressed."

"I'll be downstairs," Sherlock replied, swiftly ducking out of the room before John had the chance to move.

He jumped down the stairs two at a time, picking up his shoes that he left in the foyer and pulled them on. He turned around and waited patiently on the bottom step for John to finish getting ready. His fear amplified ten fold. What would John need to talk to Mycroft about but not him? Why would he talk to Mycroft at all? He would need to speak with his dear brother later. Sherlock was startled out of his thoughts by footsteps thundering behind him. He stood up out of the way and watched John walk the rest of the way down. He could suppress a grin at the sight of him and a wave of affection washed through his insides. John was too adorable for words.

He grabbed the collar of John's plaid, short-sleeve button-down and pulled him into a kiss. John didn't object, leaning into his partner with soft, slow kisses; the kind that made Sherlock feel stupid in the best way. Sherlock pulled away, arms wrapped around him, after realizing they were supposed to be doing something else.

"We should go," he whispered.

"Right," John replied, a little out of breath.

Sherlock let go and moved for John to go ahead of him. The two left and walked into town so they could spend the hours of the day. They walked the streets for a while, occasionally hand-in-hand. They shopped for books to humor John since he thought that's why Sherlock wanted to go in the first place. They went out to eat, a Thai restaurant where John ate and Sherlock watched, and finished the day by spending an hour or so at a pub. John ended up a bit more than buzzed and had to rely on Sherlock's support during the walk back to the estate.

"I'm going to regret this in the morning," John slurred as he wobbled up the front steps.

"I told you not to drink that much," Sherlock sighed with a small smile as he opened the door for his partner.

"I know, I know, I should've listened," he replied, his tongue stumbling over the S's.

Sherlock shut the door behind him and steadied John. "Why don't you go up to bed and sleep it off? Can you get up the stairs on your own?"

John looked over at the stairs then back at Sherlock with determination before nodding.

"Okay, use the handrails for support. I'll be up in a minute, I just have one small thing to do first."

"'Kay."