Author Notes: So this is the last chapter of this story. I hope you enjoy it and if you like let me know what you think. =)

A Lifetime

-51 years later-

"The honey is delicious this year, Sweetheart." John added another spoonful of the rich, golden liquid to his tea. Until a few years ago he had preferred it unsweetened but his taste had changed in this regard. A lot had changed to be exact.

John glanced at his lover of fifty-one and husband of forty-eight years as he pushed his reading glasses up on his nose while he studied the crime section of the newspaper. It had been a real fight to get Sherlock to admit that he needed reading glasses. John chuckled quietly as he recalled one of their more memorable arguments about it.

"Could you please read the shopping list out to me before we leave? I want to make sure that we haven't forgot anything."

John hid his smirk behind his hand as Sherlock took the piece of paper in his hand and held it at arm's length to read it. In the end he only scoffed in annoyance and crumbled the list in his hands.

"Hey! Just because you can't read it doesn't mean that we don't need it!"

"You might need a shopping list but I have everything in here." Sherlock sneered as he tipped against the side of his head and John rolled his eyes at him.

"I give you that your mind is as sharp as ever but you never remember that we need milk or butter or eggs or meat or pasta or vegetables and fruit. Instead you will load our supermarket trolley with all your favorite sweets. You forget the most important things."

The only warning John got was the dangerous gleam in dark blue eyes before he was grabbed by the shoulders and pushed into his favorite armchair.

"I forget the most important things, you say?" The question was a mere growl as Sherlock bent forwards to kiss John hungrily. "I didn't forget that you like this." Sherlock nipped playfully at his lower lip. "Or this." He flickered John's earlobe with his tongue and then sucked on it. A moan escaped John and his eyes slipped shut in utter bliss as Sherlock nipped and sucked at his exposed throat.

"I also remember that you like this."

John's eyes snapped open as Sherlock opened his trousers with skilled fingers and he lifted his hips to allow his husband to pull them down together with his pants before he could think about it twice.

"Sherlock, your knees," he made the effort to protest as his lover sank down between his spread legs but a lick over the head of his cock silenced him.

"I recall exactly how you like it." Sherlock grinned up at him before he proved his words.

John could only sigh and moan while he clenched the armrests of his chair as his husband sucked him off. He hadn't promised too much Sherlock knew exactly what John liked. A hard grip around his shaft and a fast stroke combined with sucking and licking at its head. John groaned when Sherlock nipped at his foreskin with his lips and then pressed his tongue to the upper side of his cock and sucked hard.

Oh God, but John was getting closer as Sherlock picked up his pace and rolled John's balls in his hand at the same time. John forced his eyes open to look down at Sherlock. His curls - that popped up and down with every movement - were as thick as ever. The only difference was in their color. They were white instead of dark by now but John liked that. He liked every new wrinkle on Sherlock as it showed that they were aging together. The thought aroused John more than it had any right to and before he knew it he was hovering on the edge of his orgasm.

"Sherlock..."

Blue eyes snapped up to him and the adoration and desire that were mirrored in them did it for John. He came with a choked cry in Sherlock's mouth until he believed that he had dried out completely.

John sagged back in his armchair as Sherlock let go of him. It took him longer to get his breathing and heart rate back under control than twenty years ago when Sherlock had catalogued John's reactions to a blowjob for the first time. John smiled at the memory of their awkward first sexual encounters before they had learned what they each enjoyed.

He must have gotten lost in his thoughts a little because the next thing he noticed was a hoarse cry and a warm splatter on his thigh.

John cracked his eyes open to look at Sherlock. His lover had obviously just come all over the lower part of the armchair and John's legs as proven by the cooling wetness on John's skin. The relaxed and blissful look on Sherlock's face as he slowly came down from his height was also a dead giveaway.

"You know you could have got up and we could have continued in the shower." John glanced at the spots on the leather of his armchair and sighed. It had been worth it but still...

"No, I couldn't have."

John raised an eyebrow at his lover who sheepishly looked up at him. "Yes, you could have."

"No John, I really couldn't... my knees."

Heat crept into high cheekbones as John chuckled and got slowly to his feet before he offered Sherlock his hands to help him up. All the jumping from rooftop to rooftop hadn't done Sherlock's knees any good. And John didn't even want to imagine how badly Sherlock had treated his body while hunting Moriarty's network down. Honestly he didn't want to imagine anything from that horrible time when he had believed Sherlock dead for two years. John was only grateful that they had only got together afterwards. A year after Sherlock's resurrection to be exact.

"Let's take a shower and get dressed so that we can get to the shops."

"What's the sudden hurry?" John raised an eyebrow as he followed Sherlock to the bathroom. His husband was never keen on doing the shopping.

"We need to go to the optician. I need glasses if I want to be able to analyze your expression up close to know what goes through your head."

John chuckled at that. "You just noticed that?"

"Yes!"

The one word had a finality to it that stopped John from asking any more questions. He was just glad that he wouldn't get the newspaper in the face anymore when Sherlock held it at arm's length to read it in the morning.

"What are you laughing about?"

Sherlock threw the newspaper to the side - obviously there hadn't been a worthwhile crime - and covered his croissant in honey. John had stopped to protest whenever Sherlock indulged his sweet tooth because... why should he? Sherlock had turned 82 a couple of months ago and John was 86 himself. At such ages it appeared stupid to deny themselves such small pleasures especially as they were both still rather fit. John assumed that it had a lot to do with the fresh air in the countryside.

The countryside! Thirty years ago John wouldn't have believed anyone if they had told him that they would one day live in the cottage they had once bought as a holiday home. He had believed that they would always stay in London - at 221B Baker Street to be exact. After Mrs. Hudson's death though and when more and more criminals had managed to outrun them and the staircase had got harder to climb each day...

"John? Care to share with me why you were laughing?"

John blinked himself back to the present. Sometimes he got lost in thoughts. At first Sherlock had worried about it but when it didn't become worse than the occasional drifting of his mind his husband just accepted it as a part of getting older. And he found some humor in it as the smile proved that he directed at John over the kitchen table.

"I just remembered the day when you finally decided to get reading glasses."

It was obvious to John that Sherlock remembered the exact details of that day as a dirty smirk took over his face. "Good that we had that argument so long ago. I wouldn't be able to get down on my knees for you like this anymore."

John snorted into his tea. "You haven't been able to get on your knees like this for the last ten years."

"I didn't have much motivation to try," Sherlock shot back.

Years ago such an exchange would have let to a full-blown fight but now they only burst out in laughter. It was true after all, John hadn't been able to achieve and keep an erection in almost ten years now. At least not without some chemical assistance and they had only used the little blue pills a handful of times. Only when they had both wanted to enjoy a long, lazy afternoon of lovemaking.

They mostly stuck to cuddling for hours now and John was perfectly fine with it. He only feared that Sherlock got bored to lie in bed for so long at times. His husband was still fitter than John. He could be found conducting experiments in his lab - the altered garden shed - or taking a walk on the beach. That was when he wasn't busy reading in the garden - or in front of the fireplace during the winter months. And while he had stopped to take care of the beehives himself last year he could still be found observing how Arianne - their beekeeper- worked with his bees almost every day in the spring and summer.

John's days were filled with far less activities. Sure he still enjoyed to read a good book but he didn't write himself anymore. He had stopped after the last book about Sherlock's and his adventures had been published and the arthritis in his fingers had become too painful for him to type for long. Sometimes he took a walk through their garden but not much further. It was hard to navigate his steps on the uneven roads when he already needed a cane just to get around his own home. The only thing he was still good at was making tea but that was laughable in comparison to what Sherlock could still do.

"I like to cuddle with you for hours and I like how you make tea for us every day. Besides I am four years younger than you are and you were still tending to our flowers and vegetables three years ago." A smile wrinkled Sherlock's face and John took the hand that reached across the kitchen table towards him. "I love you. And I love my life with you."

John swallowed the heavy lump in his throat and returned Sherlock's smile as he grabbed his hand as hard as he could. "I love you too and what we have built together." After a second he added: "How did you know what I was thinking? Did I talk out loud again or..."

Sherlock shook his head with a soft smile. "No, it were some simple deductions. After talking about blowjobs you glared at your lap and then glanced towards our bedroom with a wistful smile on your lips. Your eyes then shifted to the glass of honey and then towards the window that overlooks the beehives and part of the garden. It got even clearer when you glared at your cane afterwards only to look ruefully at our tea pot at second later."

"Brilliant!"

Sherlock ducked his head and smiled at the praise. "It was just a simple observation."

John chuckled. Leave it to Sherlock to still be as brilliant at such an age as he was when they met. At least some things would never change.

They finished their remaining breakfast in silence and then Sherlock nodded to the car keys. "Would you like to drive over the Mrs. Taylor's house? We could play with the new puppies and take Roger for a picnic at the beach."

Roger was Mrs. Taylor's oldest dog with his sixteen years and the grandfather to the newest litter of puppies. Her house had easier access to the beach than theirs so that even John could manage to go down to sit in the sand.

"Sounds good, let's do this."

OOO

"It's so peaceful."

John let his gaze wander over the empty beach to were the waves broke on the shore. The sky was clear and the autumn sun warm enough that he only needed one jumper as he reclined on their blanket.

"It certainly seems like it."

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's wording and raised an eyebrow at him as his husband sneaked Roger a sausage. The dog chewed it enthusiastically and then laid down with his head in Sherlock's lap.

"He deserves a little treat after looking after his grandchildren for so long."

John just shook his head at that. "All Roger did was lay there while some of the pups climbed all over him. We did more work when we stroked them."

"And Roger is older in dog years than we are so he deserves more praise for less."

John couldn't argue with this logic and so he didn't as they continued to watch the sea and enjoy the fresh air. Only when the sun moved further west and the waves turned orange as they reached the beach did John break the silence.

"Would you like another one?" He didn't need to add that he was referring to the puppies. Mrs. Taylor had already offered him one as soon as they were weaned from their mother. John was damn sure that Sherlock had taken a special liking to the cheeky one that had licked first his face and then stuck her tongue into his ear. Her fur was black expect for her brown paws and ears. She would make an impressive figure once she had grown to her full height. As the pup of a Bernese mountain dog and another large bred - that John couldn't remember - she was sure to become huge. Probably as big as Kayla had been once she had been full-grown.

To his surprise Sherlock shook his head. "It wouldn't be fair to the dog," Sherlock explained at John's questioning look. "She wants to run around and play. I could still play fetch with Kayla and chase around the beach after her when she was a puppy but that was eighteen years ago. I wouldn't be able to provide the same things for Kiara. Yes, I was allowed to name her," Sherlock added with a content smirk.

John had to admit that Sherlock had a point there. They had had Kayla - a German shepherd crossbred - until she had died three years ago. It hadn't been a problem to provide her with what she needed till the end. Then again she hadn't wanted to run around all day anymore like when she had still been fit. Sherlock was right they weren't able to look after such a young dog anymore. Nevertheless John felt a little sad that Sherlock would never get to play with a dog again like he used play with Kayla. At the same time it also meant that John would never have to clean two muddy idiots with the garden hose again.

"What have you done?"

John didn't know what his expression looked like but he was sure that it showed a mixture of amusement, shock and exasperation as he took in his husband and Kayla. Somehow both Sherlock and their dog had managed to get covered in mud from head to toes - or paws in one case. He couldn't decide if Sherlock's curls were in more knots than Kayla's fur or if it was the other way around. John only knew that it would take ages to brush them out and that their five-year old dog would be more patient than his 72 year-old husband.

"I thought you were just taking her for a walk on the beach." John sighed heavily and that was when he noticed the puddles of water that were forming around both troublemakers. He wasn't wearing his glasses that was why he hadn't realised sooner that they were both drenched.

"What the..." he started only to be interrupted by Sherlock. "We were exploring another part of the beach when we discovered a small contributing stream that empties into the ocean. Kayla here decided that we needed to figure out if it was sweet or salt water and..."

"Is this your way of telling me that you both jumped into a small stream that originates from God knows where and played around in it like little children?" John really had to work on his rants because they had no effect on either Sherlock or Kayla. While one beamed at him proudly the other one barked at him playfully.

"Actually I will figure out where it comes from once I have run some tests. I have taken some samples of the water and..."

"Hey, where do you think you are going?" John put his hands onto his hips as he moved in the way of his husband and their dog. "If you think I will let you into the house like this you are mistaken. Take off your clothes!"

"John, are you sure here is the right place to do this kind of stuff?" Sherlock winked at him but John only scoffed. "If you believe I will have sex with you when you are wet and dirty then..."

"You never minded shower sex before. Or sex in the whirlpool. Or in a public swimming pool after closing hours. Or by that little lake in Ireland that one time, you know where I..."

"I am getting the garden hose now and if you haven't undressed when I am back only one of you will sleep in the house tonight. Yes Kayla, that's right it won't be Sherlock," he added to their dog as she wagged her tail at him.

By the time John had come back with the garden hose his husband had managed to undress himself completely. John didn't spare a look at Sherlock's body - how he managed to stay so lean by the amount of sweets he ate would always be a mystery - and instead turned the water on. He had regulated the water jet to a light spray and pointed it directly at Sherlock.

"Cold! John, that's cold!"

Laughter bubbled up in John's throat and he barely managed to hold the garden hose steady as he watched Sherlock scrub himself hard while dancing from one foot to the other as Kayla jumped around him happily. Obviously she hadn't realised yet that a bath - complete with dog shampoo - was in the future for her.

"You can warm yourself up in the sun until you are dry while I bath Kayla." John laughed even harder at the mock glare Sherlock threw his way while Kayla's ears perked up in alarm at the word "bath".

God help him but John truly loved these two more than anyone else in the world. If that meant that he was crazy, he was more than fine with it.

"She was a wonderful dog and she loved it when she got a shower from the garden hose."

This time John didn't ask how Sherlock knew what he had been thinking about. He merely offered his hand to his husband as they watched the sun set in the ocean and turn the waves dark red. They sat there until the first stars appeared in the sky and a shiver ran through John's body as a cold breeze ruffled his remaining hairs.

"We should head back."

They found their way to Mrs. Taylor's house without trouble even in the dark. After a heartfelt goodbye from Roger, the puppies and their motherly neighbor they followed the well-known streets back to their cottage. Back home.

OOO

"Have you locked all the doors?"

"Yes, John," Sherlock replied even as he rolled his eyes. Who would think of breaking into the cottage of two old men. When they had first moved here Sherlock had understood why John always wanted all the doors and windows to be locked. It wasn't just a habit from their days in London but also a logical security measure. Together they had brought more criminals to prison than any police officer of their time and it stood to reason that some people would seek revenge for that. Now though they shouldn't have to worry about such things. Most of the people they had helped to arrest were dead or too old themselves to pose a threat. And everyone else only knew the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes and his partner Doctor John H. Watson from the books that his husband had published. For the younger generations they were nothing more than a beloved crime fighting duo. Oddly enough Sherlock was happy about that development. In the years and even decades to come when they were both long gone people all around the world would still know that John and he had belonged together. It gave him a peace of mind that not even the publishing of his book about beekeeping had brought him.

"Are you coming to bed?"

"Yes, John."

Sherlock gave their living-room one last glance before he went to their bedroom. They had moved it from the first floor to the ground floor ten years ago when John had started to lean more heavily on his cane and Sherlock's knees had protested climbing the stairs every day. At the time it had felt strange that the window opened to the east side and allowed the morning sun in their room. Now though as Sherlock climbed into bed next to John everything felt perfect - right.

They lay facing each other as Sherlock felt compelled to say it: "Goodnight, John."

A smile appeared on John's face as he stroked Sherlock's cheek with his finger. "Sleep well, my love."

There was neither surprise nor regret written on John's face only acceptance and complete contentment. Sherlock knew that his eyes reflected the same emotions as he brought his lips to his soulmate's one last time.

They fell asleep with their hands intertwined and smiles on their faces.