A/N: Wow, I'm flattered by how much attention this story is receiving! Thanks a bunch, guys! As a reward, here's another (much longer) chapter. Enjoy!


"Wakey, wakey! We're leaving in an hour!"

John jumps awake at the loud banging on the door. His military instincts take over, and he pulls out the gun hidden underneath his pillow. Call it a drastic reaction, but he was trained to be prepared for anything. Breathing heavily, he stares at the door, gun drawn. Wait a minute. This doesn't look like the door to his flat…

"Impressive timing."

He immediately turns the gun on Sherlock, staring at the man wildly, temporarily forgetting who he is and where they are.

"Believe it or not, I don't classify James as a threat, although his choice of wardrobe is frightening enough," Sherlock continues casually from behind the newspaper.

James. Where does he know that name? Wait a minute. James is the annoying guy from the gay tour. John's on the tour. He stayed with Sherlock in this ridiculously modern hotel last night. Bit-by-bit, the previous day's events start coming back to him.

He blinks and slowly lowers the gun. "Sorry, Sherlock. I was-"

"Having a nightmare about the war. Although you've been out of the military for yonks, you get nightmares now and again."

John blinks slowly while trying to regulate his breathing. "Right, that about sums it up." Deductions…

Sherlock hums thoughtfully and peers around the paper at John. "I ordered breakfast."

John takes a moment to process the alluring smells floating around them. His stomach releases an eager growl, prompting him to pull himself out of bed. A large tray with a scrumptious helping of pork beans, egg, and toast awaits him at the opposite end of the table. His mouth waters at the precious sight. He hasn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday.

"Thanks," he mumbles, plopping down in the seat. Sherlock didn't have to do this for him. I mean, they hardly know each other. Maybe there's a bit of warmth hiding underneath that cool exterior, after all.

Sherlock gives a curt nod before turning back to the newspaper. They sit in silence, apart from John's chewing and the occasional crinkle of a page turning. John attempts to make conversation.

"Have you eaten already?"

"Not hungry."

Guess that's a no. "You probably should eat something."

"I don't feel like it."

"It will keep your strength up for the busy day."

"Meh."

"Sherlock…"

Sherlock peers around the paper again, nailing John with those gorgeous eyes. "Are you my mum?"

John blinks, getting the hint. "No, er, sorry." He diverts his gaze awkwardly.

Silence.

"Do you always sleep with a gun under your pillow?"

Random… "Yeah."

"Why?"

John shrugs. "It's sort of a habit."

"Do you really think you're in constant danger of somebody taking advantage of you in your sleep?"

"Well, you never know, I mean…it could happen, right? I don't like to take chances."

Sherlock nearly scoffs. "The odds of someone randomly breaking into your home and attacking you for absolutely no gain are rather slim."

Oh, he sees what Sherlock is up to. He totally turned the conversation around. Instead of John getting after Sherlock, Sherlock is getting after him for something. What a sneaky way to get even.

"I have seen war, you know. I know what's it like to have the enemy right there."

"And you defeated the enemy. What's your point?"

John gazes hard at the man across from him. He's testing him. Seeing how many buttons he can push. A battle of wits. Bring it on.

"As far as I'm concerned, there will always be an enemy."

Now, it's Sherlock's turn to fall silent. "Indeed." He says after a moment.

John smiles to himself in victory. There's no way Sherlock could argue with that one.

"This isn't over, Watson."

"Are you challenging me?"

Sherlock smirks, strategically masking it with the newspaper. "Perhaps."

Although he doesn't view John as an intellectual equal, it might be fun to pick his brain and bounce stuff off of him. Besides, John is the only one daring to interact with him, so it's the least Sherlock can do.


When a freshly groomed and clothed John appears from the bathroom, he discovers the room is empty. Actually, it's not much of a discovery, since it was expected. It'd be silly and unnecessary for Sherlock to wait around for John. Very silly. With that, John fetches his billfold and leaves the lavish room to the maids.

The moment John steps onto the bus, he notices Molly seated next to Siobhan. They must've hit it off last night, because they are chatting up a storm. Well, good for them. Once again, Sherlock is seated alone in the back. Perhaps, he could use a bit of company. It won't hurt to find out. John starts making his way towards the back when a soft, familiar voice stops him:

"Good morning, John."

John turns, looking right into Jasper's deep, brown eyes. Jasper's face lights up with a soft blush, accompanied by a bashful smile. Yep, he's trapped.

"Morning, Jasper."

Jasper scoots over, confirming what John was hoping against. Rejecting the offer might break Jasper's delicate heart. John sighs inwardly, throwing a quick glance at Sherlock, seeing his lip curl ever so slightly in amusement. Of course Sherlock would find amusement in someone's discomfort. Reluctantly, John sits down next to Jasper.

"Did you have a nice night?" Jasper's cheeks darken. "Uh, I don't mean it like that…"

John chuckles. He's almost flattered that Jasper thought about him being coupled with the attractive Sherlock.

"It was fine, thank you." He pauses. "How was yours? With…" He trails off and nods at James.

Jasper grows more awkward than usual. "It was…disturbing. He, um, I overheard him wanking off. I mean, he was quiet, but…I still heard it."

John makes a face. "That's…wow…I'm sorry."

Jasper shudders. "Who just does that with a stranger in the room?"

"Someone with boundary issues," John answers.

He is just that much more grateful he didn't have to spend the night with James. He couldn't imagine Sherlock deciding to have a whack at it with mere feet between them. I mean, Sherlock's flushed face contorting in pleasure while his large hand rapidly works his erection is just horribly…sexy. Wait, what? John immediately stops that thought and shakes his head to clear it. There's no way he just…

"Good morning, my lovelies!" James' annoying voice cuts into the air sharply. "I hope you all slept well." He doesn't even try holding back the smirk that appears on his face.

Jasper grimaces, unable to look at him. John can't seem to look at him, either. Not after what he just heard. And it was hard enough to look at him yesterday. He pretends to find something interesting out the window.

"You're a man of many words but hardly any actions, so I know you slept well." A baritone voice says cheekily.

This breaks the air of awkwardness, causing some people snicker. Even John cracks a smile, despite the disturbing (and goddamn sexy) image he just had involving Sherlock.

James threatens to roll his eyes. "Ha ha, very funny. You don't know my life."

Sherlock quirks a brow, accepting the challenge. "Judging by the scars on your arm, you have encountered bouts of severe depression throughout your life. You were bullied for your sexuality, so you took out the shame on yourself. In the seventh grade, you-"

"Stop." James snaps, although he looks just as intrigued as he does annoyed. "…I need to announce today's proceedings."

Sherlock doesn't need to be told twice. He closes his eyes and rests his head back against the seat without another word. Whether he'll silently listen to James or tune him out is open to interpretation.

James takes a moment to regroup from the verbal assault before continuing: "Okey-dokey, today we are visiting the London Pride Festival! I got the tickets in advance, so we don't have to fuss with the lines." He walks down the aisle, handing everyone a ticket.

"I've never been to a pride parade before," Jasper says lowly.

John studies the colorful ticket. "Neither have I."

"You lot are gonna love it," Belle pipes up from the seat behind them. "My first festival was so much fun. I wondered why I never went before."

"That's where we met," Kenneth says proudly, flashing her a grin.

"No, we met at the one in Bristol, which was my second one," she corrects. "I fooled around at the first one." She smirks.

"Sorry, babe, but you're all mine now."

They giggle flirtatiously before kissing with several loud smacks. John suppresses the groan in his throat. What is he getting himself into?


Half-naked men ranging from waxed to hairy, women with rainbow pasties on their bouncing ta-tas, and rainbow flags galore…that's what John's getting himself into. He awkwardly stands on the sidelines, surrounded by fanatically cheering people. The group has only been here for about ten minutes, and he's gotten smacked and prodded by flailing limbs more times than he can count.

As he watches a float roll past with smooth, overly tan, buff guys dancing in speedos to I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt, he wonders what he's supposed to think. Should he be thinking about jumping that float-load of young, attractive guys? Because he isn't. How is he supposed to feel? Like flaunting his gayness? Because, again, he doesn't. Despite this elaborate display, he still feels the same about himself. Sure, he fully accepts his sexuality, but it isn't anything to get this worked up about.

After nearly getting hit in the face by a flying condom, John decides it's time to retreat. He shoves the star-struck people out of his way and stands in the back, having a renewed appreciation for oxygen and space. Jasper, who's been visibly ogling over all the guys, notices John leave and follows him.

"Can't handle it?"

John blinks. "Sorry?"

"All those men…dancing around with sweat rolling down their toned, hairless bodies…" He stops, his body trembling lightly.

John grows concerned. "Can you handle it?" He asks carefully.

Jasper doesn't respond, his attention fixed on another float-load of attractive men rolling by. Their hairless bodies are splattered with colorful jewels and glitter, giving their skin a slicker appearance.

Well, it looks like the questioning Jasper is having a break-through. Good for him, although the outcome might not be so pleasant. The poor lad is a hormonally ticking time-bomb, and John doesn't want to be in the area when he explodes. Luckily, Jasper heads back into the tumultuous swarm without another word.

John crosses his arms and shakes his head. As he stands there, watching the drag queens strut around, he feels eyes on him. It's not surprising. Out of all these people, he's bound to look attractive to somebody.

"Looks like you're finding this whole thing as dull as I am."

John turns, surprised to find Sherlock standing next to him. Apparently, Sherlock was one of those people staring at him. A surge of heat creeps around his shirt collar.

"This isn't really my type of scene."

"The most common usage of the word pride is when referencing an inflated sense of one's status. These people are using pride as a way of masking their insecurities and feelings of societal inferiority. Unbeknownst to them, it is possible to be comfortable in oneself without a gaudy parade."

Once again, John marvels at Sherlock's competency. He's almost stunned beyond words.

"…yeah, that's how I feel about it, too." I think?

Sherlock's lips quirk with amusement. They stand in silence for a moment, until Sherlock says, "I'm bored. Let's walk."

John readily agrees and starts walking alongside the tall man. He's so relieved someone feels the same way he does.

"If that's how you feel, then why are you on this tour, John?"

John shrugs. "My sister told me about it. She thought it'd be good for me to get out and meet new people." He glances up at him. "Why are you here?"

"Honestly, I was bored and needed something to do."

John blinks, slightly crestfallen. "Oh. Are you…?"

Sherlock immediately knows what he's implying and nods. "I believe in the colors; I just don't wear them." He chuckles, causing John to lighten up and chuckle along.


At the end of the street, they come across a small café. Sherlock is finally hungry, so they decide to pop in for a bite to eat. There's no telling when the group will grab some lunch. As far as John is concerned, the others are on their own agenda. They probably haven't even noticed they left.

The café is a cozy nook, warm and inviting with the fresh smells of coffee and bread. Only a few other people are here, probably also looking to escape the festival noise. It's much quieter on this end of the street, providing a safe distance from the overbearing crowd. An older woman with soft, wise eyes is standing behind the counter. She greets them with a smile.

"Afternoon, boys. Are you here for the parade?"

"Yeah," John answers.

The woman smiles wider, motioning to the rainbow pin on her apron. "I just want to let you know this is a safe zone. Don't feel you have to hide your relationship in here."

John feels a flush rise to his cheeks. "Oh, we're not together."

The woman blinks in surprise. "Really? Oh, dear, could've had me fooled!" She chuckles good-naturedly. "I suppose I thought you boys would look just darling together."

Sherlock doesn't say anything, leaving John with the obligation. "It's alright." He says, hoping his blush isn't obvious.

She thinks they'd make a good couple? Well, he can see how their height differences might…no. He can't see what she's talking about at all. He shuts down that thought and focuses on ordering the food.


"Did you mean what you said last night?"

John looks across the table and into those gorgeous, silver eyes. Damn it all to Hell, he feels his blush coming back underneath the weight of the stare. Those eyes are like an impassable wall, methodically trapping their victims.

"Sorry?"

Sherlock quirks a brow. "Do you remember? You were curious about my intellect."

That kick-starts John's brain back into gear. "Oh, yeah, I did."

"Every word of it?"

"Of course. Why?"

A playful smirk graces Sherlock's bowed lips. "I want to hear you say it again."

John eyes him. "Right now?"

Sherlock nods, taking a sip of his tea. He can't be serious. Sherlock wants John to flatter him in front of the shop owner who claimed they'd make an adorable couple? John almost wants to laugh, although his mouthful of sandwich prevents him from doing so gracefully.

"Fine." He lowers his voice. "You're stone-cold brilliant. You're-"

"That wasn't what you said."

"Huh?"

"Those weren't your exact words, John. I'd like you to repeat exactly what you said."

He's testing him again; John can feel it. He looks at the taller man levelly, reflecting on what he said last night. "You're brilliant, and those deductions, or whatever they are, are amazing."

Sherlock briefly closes his eyes, basking in the very phrase that he locked inside his Mind Palace. It feels so good to hear John say it again. He couldn't get his mind off of those words last night. Or off of John.

Moments later, his eyes reopen and fix on John. "I would tell you to say it louder, but it would ruin the atmosphere."

John's eyes widen at the implication, and he changes the topic before his face bursts into flames. "So, do you have a job?" Sherlock briefly appears hesitant, and John blinks in concern. "Um, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it…"

Sherlock shakes his head. "I'm a chemistry and forensics professor at King's College."

Professor, eh? A quiet, awkward man like Sherlock is able to stand in front of a class and talk? John is having trouble visualizing the scenario. Obviously, there's another side to him. John gives a respectful nod.

"Which school?"

"King's College. They are affiliated with the Met and specialize in forensic science."

John blinks. "Wow, sounds prestigious." He takes a sip of coffee. "Do your students know where you are?"

Sherlock smirks. "As far as I'm concerned, this is a Caribbean vacation."

John chuckles before growing serious. "You're not out to them?"

"My students don't need to get caught up in my personal affairs."

"Maybe that will change. I heard this tour can change people." He heard that much from Molly.

Sherlock huffs. "I like the way I am, thank you very much."

John gives a little shrug. It's funny how he mentioned change when he's not a firm believer in it, himself. The psychological effects of the war have trapped him for so long now. Sure, he visits a psychologist every week, but it's not quite enough. Something is still missing, and he can't quite figure out what it is. Companionship? Freedom? Love? All of the above? Technically, John is way past the societal age to settle down. He had given many years of his life to the military so finding love wasn't a readily available option. His repressed sexuality would've made the task even more arduous.

He knows this isn't a date but sitting here with Sherlock feels like one. The excitement and uncertainty of getting to know a stranger is something he hasn't felt in so long. Too long. It feels amazingly good. The last date he went on was with a fellow medical student at Uni. She was a tall, bodacious brunette with a great rack, but it wasn't right. John knew, deep down in his heart, she wasn't what he wanted. But he ignored it and kept dating her. His mistake. Before long, she got too emotionally invested in him and wanted to further their relationship. Letting her go was one of the most stressful things he's ever had to do. He'll never forget the broken look on her face...

Suddenly, John's mobile starts buzzing in his pocket. He pulls the device out, not recognizing the number but answers it anyways.

"Yeah?"

"John! Where are you? Is Sherlock with you?"

There's no mistaking that oh-so-manly voice.

John sighs quietly. "Yeah, James, he's with me. We stopped into a café for some lunch."

"Oh, thank God!" He shouts above the loud music in the background. John makes a face and turns down the inner volume. "I was worried sick that some pervs took off with you!"

"Uh, no, we're fine."

"Please let me know if you plan to wander off again, mkay?"

Yes, mum. John nods. "Right, sorry about that."

"Great!" John can hear his bloody grin. "The parade is almost over, so we'll be checking out the other festivities. It'd be super awesome if you joined us!"

John glances at Sherlock, who rolls his eyes. "Well, we're almost done in here, so-"

"Wonderful! Catch ya later!"

John doesn't return the farewell and just hangs up. Dammit, how did he forget that he put his mobile number on the tour form? His lip twitches at the thought of James having constant access to him. He can only pray his number will be deleted after the tour. After returning his phone to his pocket, he looks right across at Sherlock.

The professor's lips are pressed tightly together, like he's trying to hold back a laugh. "I knew those pants were too tight on him."

John snorts, and they break out into a round of laughter. For some strange reason, James is becoming a great way for them to bond.


John shifts on his feet while tugging at the rainbow scarf wrapped uncomfortably around his neck. He's been wearing this dreadful thing for almost 15 minutes, and it's making him sweat. Hopefully the sweat stains won't be visible, because there's no way he's going to buy it. James had another fantastic idea for a group photo. He thought it would be "adorable" if everyone wore a piece of rainbow clothing. John hates it. He knows Sherlock does, too. The guy is standing rigidly next to John, sporting a pair of rainbow shutter shades.

"These things are dreadful. I can't see out of them," he complained.

"Don't be silly! You look adorable!" James cooed before standing a little too close to him for the next picture to be taken.

That was the fourth picture. Now, they are on the eighth. Even the photographer, a short, petite lesbian, is getting restless. Every time James demands a retake, she gives him an exasperated look. Her girlfriend is awkwardly standing off to the side, probably eager for them to move along. John can't blame them. He's slowly accepting the fact this is how it will be for every picture.

Finally, after three more pictures, James is satisfied with how it turns out. John literally yanks the scarf off, shivering lightly as the cooler air assaults his neck. He won't look at scarves the same way again. Sherlock removes his glasses, blinking a few times to readjust his vision, before setting them back down on the booth. James didn't have anything to take off, because his whole face is painted in rainbow stripes, making him look more ridiculous than usual. He beams down at the finished product.

Siobhan is peering over his shoulder, watching him flip through the retakes. "Every picture looks the same to me," she boldly points out.

James gapes, turning to face her with his hand on his hip. "Excuse me? Look how ratchet my hair looks!"

Siobhan studies the other pictures and quirks a brow. "…I still don't see a difference?"

James huffs and rolls his eyes. "Whatever." He turns towards Sherlock. "You look gorgeous in every picture." He blushes softly and brushes Sherlock's arm as he walks past him.

Sherlock tenses, eyes narrowing at James' back. John also tenses. He doesn't realize it, until he releases the muscles. James just…shouldn't do that. He shouldn't touch Sherlock. Nobody should touch him.

"Somebody's got a crush," Siobhan murmurs cheekily, which doesn't help the situation.

Sherlock sends a glare at her before taking off in an aimless direction. John follows after him without thinking about it. They walk around for a while, not doing much talking, except for the occasional odd comment about something (or someone…this is a new world for both of them) in need of commenting upon.

John briefly wonders if, like the lady at the café, other people are viewing them as a couple. The thought makes John's chest feel uncharacteristically fluttery. Well, they are walking rather closely together, and John's hand has (accidentally) bumped Sherlock's more than once. Although they aren't holding hands, like most of the couples here, their current position could easily be misinterpreted. Sherlock doesn't seem to mind the proximity, or the random hand-bumps. John doesn't mind, either, and continues walking next to Sherlock like it's second nature.


Eventually, they approach a booth that Sherlock claimed looked "somewhat interesting". The sign reads Cream Dreams, and John makes a face. What the hell are they selling in here? The booth is big enough to walk around in, and he follows Sherlock inside. It doesn't take long for John's question to be answered. Lining the shelves are several bottles of creams, oils, and other liquid-based substances. Why would Sherlock be interested in this?

"Can I help you lads find something?"

John glances at the salesman now standing in front of them. He is sporting a light beard, a pleasant smile, and gauges in both ears. Sure, he looks friendly, but you never know what this type of stuff can do to people.

"I'm looking for lubricant," Sherlock answers without breaking his composed demeanor.

John raises his brows in surprise. Lubricant only has a few specific uses, each of them causing John to flush uncomfortably.

"Ah, well, you've come to the right place, my friends!" The man exclaims with a delighted grin. "Follow."

He leads them further back into the booth and over to the biggest lube collection John has ever seen. He can't help but gape at the impressive display. The bottles range in different sizes, shapes, and colors; the liquids they contain ranging in various flavors, consistencies, and effects. John gapes as the man starts talking about the company's most popular bottles. He won't admit it aloud, but he's tempted to buy one. His bottle at home is almost empty, anyways, and it would save him the awkward trip.

Sherlock studies the collection intently. "I need a simple, water-based one."

The man turns and scans the collection before plucking a bottle off the shelf, holding it out to Sherlock. "No colors, no flavors, no frills. This one is as basic as it gets."

Sherlock nods curtly, taking the small bottle and observing the label. "Excellent."

The man smiles in satisfaction, looking back and forth at them. "Are you two together?" He asks.

Well, at least he has the decency to ask, instead of assuming. Once again, Sherlock says nothing, leaving John to the task. "Er, no…"

The man shrugs. "That's fine, that's fine. See anything you like?"

John flushes at the attention, his mouth suddenly going dry. There's nothing weird about two guys, who barely know each other, buying lubricant together, right? He clears his throat and awkwardly looks back at the grand selection. Honestly, he'd be saving himself a lot of grief if he just bought another bottle here, where people won't judge him.

He eyes the warming lubricants curiously. Perhaps, he should spice it up a bit. He's been thinking about it for a while, but hasn't mustered up the courage to try something different. Would buying the warming lubricant be weird, when Sherlock bought the most basic lube? Of course not. This decision doesn't have anything to do with Sherlock. It's not like he and Sherlock will be using one bottle at the same time. Or any bottles at any time. Pffft, ridiculous.

John wets his lips and reaches up, throwing caution to the wind by grabbing one of the warming lubricants. "I guess I'll try this one."

"Nice choice." The man smirks. "Too bad your mate here didn't get a cooling one. I've heard those are out-of-this-world when combined."

John's cheeks redden for the thousandth time today. Forget cooling lubricant. It'd be amazing if there was a cooling cream for his damned face.


After leaving the stand, John holds the bag by the middle, instead of the handles, to hide the obscenely large Cream Dreams logo. He doesn't exactly want the whole to know he just bought lube. They don't speak about their purchases, either, because that's one of those things you just don't talk about. Apparently, it's fine if you buy lubricant together, as long as you don't speak of it. John is okay with that.

Feeling peckish, they swing by a concession stand for some fish and chips. Sherlock says he isn't hungry, but the way he nabs chips off John's tray suggests otherwise.

"You better watch yourself," he says teasingly.

Sherlock glances at him casually. "Are you threatening me?"

"No, I'm warning you. There's a difference."

"What if I don't listen?"

John looks at him levelly. There's a hint of mischief gleaming in Sherlock's eyes. "I'll steal your lube."

Sherlock frowns. "I need that."

John is about to reply when Sherlock's phone starts going off. He pulls out the device and answers it. "Sherlock."

"Yes, I know who you are." A giggle. "It's James."

"Oh, I was wondering when you'd call me."

"Aw, you were thinking about me?"

Sherlock rolls his eyes, causing John to stifle a laugh. "I try not to."

The line falls silent for a moment. "Well, I'm thinking about you."

"What do you want, James?"

James sighs. "I love it when you say my name." He clears his throat. "There's a theater group performing a play, and I'd love for you and John to join us. We'll leave once the play ends."

Sherlock makes a noncommittal sound. "How long is it?"

"How long is what? The play, or my-"

"The play."

"Whoops, my bad!" He laughs. "Um, it's only 45 minutes."

"We'll be there." He hangs up before James can say anything else.

"What's going on?" John asks, taking a sip of his drink.

"We're going to a gay play," Sherlock answers, stealing another one of John's chips.

John makes a face. "Fantastic." He throws a chip at Sherlock, who grins.


"I already told you…I can't love you."

"But I'm nothing without you!"

"Brad, I just…"

"Please, David…just give love a chance."

"Oh my God, that's the title of the play," James murmurs beside Sherlock. "I hope this ends happy."

"It will, despite the atrocious acting that even my science-oriented pupils would be able to surpass," Sherlock says lowly.

Sure enough, after a few more lines of indecisive dialogue, David grabs Brad's hand and says, "Maybe, you're right. Maybe I can give love a chance."

They kiss, a chorus of 'awwws' ring out from the audience, and the curtain drops, indicating the end is (finally) here.

As the actors line up along the stage to take their bows, James springs up from his seat, clapping wildly. "Beautiful! That was brilliant! Brad, you're hot!"

The actor who played Brad just laughs and nods at James, who giggles at the recognition. He watches the actors exit the stage before turning to the group,

"The bus is waiting where we got dropped of earlier. I'll be there soon." He smirks and takes off after the actors.

When James said soon, what he really meant was 35 minutes. A couple people had fallen asleep while waiting. The bus driver got concerned and tried calling him, but he didn't answer. He wasn't happy when James finally climbed on board. Believe it or not, the driver does have a life outside of driving a bunch of gay people around.

Disturbingly, James' clothes and hair were disheveled. His skin was glistening with sweat in the evening light, which ruined his colorful face-paint. It's obvious he was involved in a little after-show performance, increasing John's desire to get back to the hotel.


Once there, John wastes no time jumping into a shower. The shower head has six settings, so he tries them all out. The fifth one is the strongest, and he stands there, letting the water pound against his tired muscles. Oh, it feels like heaven. He makes a mental note to check into new shower heads for the flat. John rests his forehead against the modern, stone tile, soaking up the wet warmth. He'd stand here forever if he could.

Alas, forever will have to wait. Although John is sure the water tank in this place would allow him more time, he can't stay in the bathroom all night. He pops a couple pain killers and walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a fluffy, white towel.

Sherlock is seated at the table with his laptop, glancing over at John when he enters. His eyes quickly become transfixed on the slick expanse of John's bare chest. Damn, he's perfectly toned; not too much but definitely not too little. Sherlock watches the crystalline water drops descend John's impressive torso, painting dark trails on his lightly tanned skin. He pays special attention to how each drop caresses the semi-hard lines of his abs before vanishing into the luxurious towel. An unusual, yet familiar twinge strikes Sherlock's abdomen.

John wanders over to the telly, not seeming to notice Sherlock's reaction, and turns it on. He grabs the remote and sits on his bed with it. Some obnoxious, American soap opera starts playing, and John changes the channel.

"Bloody Americans, and their drama," he mumbles.

Sherlock forces his gaze back onto his laptop. His eyes may be back on the document he's working on, but his mind isn't. It's hard to focus with a wet, half-naked man just feet away from him, especially when that man is the attractive John Watson.

"What are you working on?"

His words pull Sherlock out of his daze and back into the task at hand. "Some notes for my classes when I return."

"I thought this was supposed to be a vacation?"

"I never stray far from my work."

John cocks his head. "You won't let yourself relax and have fun?"

Sherlock's gaze cuts over to him sharply. "Can you?"

John sits silently for a moment, making the opera singer on the telly sound even louder. "Er, well, I'm trying, I guess. I still don't know about this whole tour thing, but I had fun with you today, if that counts." He gives a little shrug and shy smile.

Sherlock tries taming the flush that stains his pale cheeks. Does he really mean that? He hasn't met anybody who has had fun with him. I mean, it's not like Sherlock is the most exciting person in the world. John must see something interesting in him, though, because they spent the whole day together. How is it possible for two blokes who don't know much about each other to laugh and hang out together like they've been doing so for yonks? Sherlock makes a mental note to investigate the possibility further.

John's mobile starts ringing, and he grabs it off the nightstand. "Hold on, gotta take this."

Sherlock watches him rise and walk into the bathroom. Now that he's alone, he dives inside his Mind Palace and creates a new folder titled Things John Watson Says, storing that phrase inside: I had fun with you today, if that counts.


A/N: Whew, now THAT was a chapter! Lol, I went to a pride festival a few years ago, and it was a blast! If you haven't been before, I highly recommend it. :) The festival was in America, so I don't know how different it is from the one in London? Anyways, please keep reviewing, favoriting, and following!