Author's Note:

Thanks for the reviews guys! I am glad you all are liking it so far! It is my goal to have Johnlock interaction every chapter! =)

Molly walked casually into the lab, a mug of coffee in one hand and a clipboard in the other. She hesitated when she noticed Sherlock sitting near a microscope, biting her bottom lip and sparing a glance at the kitten. "Hello again." She smiled tightly and moved toward one of the computers, setting her stuff down and sliding into a chair. It was difficult to watch Sherlock be alone after everything she'd seen John give him. All she wanted to do was make it better, fix everything. "I see you've brought your little cat with you," she commented as she locked her eyes on the computer screen in front of her.

Without looking up from the microscope Sherlock spoke, "Not for lack of trying. He ran out the door just as I was leaving." He removed one sand sample and replaced it with another. "Didn't think anyone would be down here tonight. Thought you had a coffee date with Lestrade. Well, he does have a new crime scene, so he probably had to cancel on you. Speaking of, could you text him for me? I left my phone back at the flat. Let him know I'll be working here all night, should he need me for anything." Finally, he glanced up from the microscope and began scribbling notes on a sheet of paper.

"He is coming down here, um," Molly cleared her throat and looked back at the computer screen. "We're going back to his flat." The last part was muttered and she looked intensely between the computer and her clipboard. "Did you figure anything out today, then?" She bit her bottom lip and glanced at Sherlock.

Sherlock finally looked up from what he was working on. He opened his mouth to say something but then shut it with a shake of his head. Well, this was certainly none of his business. He busied himself once more by looking down at the microscope, looking at a different sample of sand. "I'm still collecting data, too premature to know anything with certainty."

Molly was about to speak when Lestrade came in, his gaze going straight to Sherlock. He took a hesitant step forward, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. "Didn't think you'd be down here, Sherlock." His voice was sure as he took a quick glance at Molly. This was certainly awkward. He had yet to tell Sherlock that he and Mycroft had decided to go separate ways.

"It's none of my business. It wasn't then and it isn't now." Sherlock said, clearly speaking to Lestrade but still looking intently at the sample under the microscope. He once again scribbled on the piece of paper next to him, but he wasn't looking at it. Instead he put in the fourth sample of sand onto a slide and began to examine it. "Have anything for me from the crime scene?"

Lestrade opened and closed his mouth several times before nodding. "Yeah, here." He pulled case notes from his pocket and placed them near Sherlock. "Mom did it. Dad disposed of the body, just like you said." He shrugged softly and glanced back at Molly. "So we're just waiting on the info for the other bodies."

Sherlock looked up from the microscope and over to Lestrade, clearly annoyed. "Not that crime scene. I don't care about that case. I meant the new body Hamish found for you." He shook his head, obviously disappointed in the Detective Inspector. He resumed staring down the scope, changing out samples once more.

"Oh, right. Molly hasn't had time to get to it yet. We'll have it by tomorrow," Lestrade gave a sure nod and swallowed hard before holding his hand out and wiggling his fingers, Molly eagerly grabbing it as they left the lab.

Once he was alone, Sherlock spoke to the kitten on his shoulder, which had been uncharacteristically quiet. "How does one move on so quickly, I wonder? Of course, the Inspector was still with his wife when he was with my brother. What a fickle and complicated man. I'd never want to be with anyone else other than John." He sighed. He had come to do work so he wouldn't think about his dear doctor off at war. Then he began to wonder if the stress of the war would get to the army doctor and he'd end up... No...don't go there... He shook his head to himself, scribbled down some more notes with more force than necessary. What was he going to do now? Even though he didn't want to, he ended up going back to the flat. He picked up his cell phone, which was still on John's chair. He decided to send a text.

John, I know you are busy but I miss you. Need you tonight. Think I'll sit in your room awhile. – SH

Three soldiers had come into camp injured by a roadside bomb. John had jumped into action and in two hours was informed that his patrol would go on without him so he could monitor the injured men. He readily accepted and moved straight to the computer room, ignoring the pointed looks he received with the blood splattered across his uniform. He knew Sherlock would have Skype up. He settled into a chair and started the video call.

Sherlock was about to head down to John's room when he heard his laptop making noise. He practically tripped over the coffee table in his haste to get to it. Hamish tumbled off but gracefully landed on his feet. The consulting detective sat on the floor, pulling the laptop into his lap and then clicked the answer call button. "John?"

"Sherlock!" John practically shouted, a grin on his face. He could see Sherlock and the relief was evident on his face. Sherlock hadn't changed much, though. He had. His face was already tan, covered in a fine layer of dust and dirt and causing his blue eyes to stand out. His hair was practically bleached blonde. "Look at you. You look wonderful. How're you?"

Sherlock put on a smile. John must not have got his text. Oh well, probably better that way. The army doctor had more important things to worry about than him sulking. "I'm okay. Trying to stay busy. Not sure I like the hair." He smirked slightly.

John laughed and gave a halfhearted shrug. "Sorry. The sun's already gotten to it! I look like some beach bloke from Australia." He lifted an arm to inspect his forearm playfully. "Not my style then? Thought it brought out my eyes!" His grin was back and he lifted a hand to run through his hair. "I am so glad I got to see you. Now we just have to hope the three injured soldiers stay stable," his voice is calm as he started to look around Sherlock to inspect the flat. "So, where's the replacement?" He asked as he searched for the cat.

Sherlock was glad to see John in high spirits and wish he could bring himself to return the enthusiasm. He was talking to his dear doctor; shouldn't he be in a better mood? "I think he went to go sulk in the kitchen. He's very temperamental." He was silent for a moment before quietly admitting, "I'm glad you were able to call. I was just thinking about you before you did."

"I'm glad I was able to call, too," John's admission ws also quiet and he lowered his head for a moment. "I really wanted to see you. You look like you've been taking care of yourself." He smiled, talking to Sherlock had instantly lifted his spirits because after just two days John was already having nightmares. Not that he would tell Sherlock that. "I hope I get to see my little namesake at some point. This cat must be quite the character to stick around," he ended the sentence with a laugh and bit his bottom lip. The next sentence slipped out so fast that he barely had time to think about it. "Marry me."

As if on cue the kitten came up and walked across the laptop, sniffing the screen. It hissed and ran away when John spoke. Sherlock sat quietly. He had planned on asking the army doctor the same thing when he had come back from the war. He had been beat to the punch. After a moment of stunned silence he spoke, "Yes...yes, of course..."

John relaxed the moment he heard Sherlock's response, ignoring the fact that he had seen the cat and instead opting to grin widely. "I know it should be... Y'know, with a ring and all sorts of romantic but..." He shook his head fractionally and ran his hands down his face in disbelief. "I love you so much, Sherlock. I just," he took a shaky breath and ducked out of view of the webcam for a moment. "We should be shagging each other right now!" He shouted confidently, popping back into view and throwing his arms up in the air.

Sherlock smirked a bit. He wanted to say, if John hadn't gone back to the war they would have been able to but he kept the thought to himself. Doubt and insecurity came back. "You aren't...going to relieve your stress, are you?" The words came out before he could stop himself.

That wasn't exactly what John had expected to hear from Sherlock. He tensed, his eyebrows brought together in confusion. It was then that it hit him. He had explained to Sherlock that he had done so on his first tour. He had shagged Sarah, too. He wanted to be upset, wanted to walk away and make Sherlock feel guilty for even asking. Except, really, he had brought this on himself. "No," he answered through a tight throat. "No. Never. W-We're engaged now." He couldn't bring himself to meet Sherlock's gaze. "I couldn't do that to you again."

Sherlock held his breath, thinking for sure he had started a row. Oh thank God. John had decided to be more mature than he was. "Thank you. ...John...I believe you. I trust you." He smirked a bit and then asked, "So, does this mean I have to wear a ring since you asked?"

John glanced up up and let a smile tug at the corner of his lips. He laughed softly. At least they were able to move past it and trust each other. "Well, you could. I mean, I'm not saying you have to." He coughed a bit and grimaced as he stuck his tongue out several times. Dirt. The gritty feeling of the dirt and dust in his mouth was something he would never get used to. "You'd look good with one on, though. A simple band." The idea made John squirm in his seat with elation. Engaged. They were getting married. "What are your plans for dinner tonight?" He asked simply, wanting to learn everything about Sherlock's normal, daily life without him.

"A silver one, I think. Would it be all right if I got a chain and wore it around my neck? I'm constantly doing experiments and working with my hands in general, it'd probably just get lost." Sherlock hadn't planned on eating. Maybe he should. Maybe he could get used to doing some ordinary things. "Perhaps dinner with Mycroft. I'm not sure yet..."

John nodded in agreement. "Go get some Chinese from that place down the street. I've been craving it." His comment was off-handed as he glanced around the room for a moment. Still alone. Most of the men on the base were either on patrol or sleeping. "Yeah, that'd be fine. I'd rather you do that than lose it or do something to it." He shifted on his chair and pulled his tan shirt over his head, his dog tags clicking against each other before falling against his chest again. The look he shot the webcam was suggestive and mischievous, a smirk on his lips.

Sherlock watched John's dog tags and found he had missed wearing them. "When you get home, I'll put your dog tags with the ring." He smirked back at the look on the army doctor's face. "My dear doctor, whatever have you planned?" He knew of course, and he felt a shiver of excitement.

"I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about, Mr. Holmes," John stated with a practiced military calm. He shifted in the chair before standing, his face being replaced by his already tan chest and stomach, showing how slim he had already gotten in two days of horrid food and the hard work that every patrol was. "It's just rather hot here and I'm uncomfortable," he said with a confidence he usually didn't have. The belt on his pants was soon undone with his hands and he collapsed back into the chair. "Why? What did you think I had planned?" His face is schooled with a questioning look but his left arm shifted and suddenly his entire body tensed, his eyes slamming shut and a soft whimper escaping his lips.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure. You might have to educate me. I'm not experienced you know." Sherlock replied, a small smile on his lips. Even though in the last month he had become quite experienced and adept at a whole new world he had no idea existed. John had awoken a sexual curiosity in him, which he didn't realize he even had and was now willing to try most anything. He watched John for the time being, strangely fascinated yet again.

John opened one eye and smirked. "Don't lie to me," he whispered roughly. "You learned fast when we were in Scotl..." He took a sharp intake of breath as his left arm moved in three quick strokes. He bit his bottom lip and let his head fall back, swallowing hard. "Just looking at you..." He brought his head forward and opening his eyes tiredly, his tongue held between his lips. "C'mon, Sherlock, do it." It wasn't even a question. It was a demand. "Touch yourself."

"Such a demanding lover you are, John Watson." Sherlock feigned in a complaining voice. Even after learning everything, he had never masturbated before. Really, he hadn't needed to because John had always taken care of everything and then some. However, John was no longer here and even though a screen now separated them, he felt that arousal of desire. He finally undid his pants, grabbing himself. He started a moderate and steady pace.

John laughed and watched Sherlock with a growing smirk. "Trying to show you who's not submissive." He reached his free hand out to grab the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white. "Close your eyes and think about me, Sherlock. My hand pulling your hair while I work your cock." He let out a choked moan and slowed his left hand down. "And I'm sucking on your neck, marking you so everybody knows you're mine."

"Just keep telling yourself that and maybe someday it will be true." Fighting to see who would be the dominant had become sort of a game between them. John had won this time. On the occasions Sherlock did submit, he would still make the other man work for it. He didn't close his eyes, he wanted to see and watch John. It wasn't the same of course, but John's words still had the desired effect and he had to move the laptop to the floor, because he had begun squirming. It also made it easier to pump his penis with a more rhythmic and fluid motion. He can easily imagine John there with him and what he would be doing in return. "I'm kissing, biting, licking your ear all over, scratching your back with my free hand, bucking underneath you." How was it John always got him to try new things so easily and readily? The army doctor had a power over him he still didn't quite understand.

Hearing Sherlock talk to him made him moan softly and when he managed to open his eyes he was nearly floored by the sight on the computer in front of him. He had a perfect view of Sherlock's entire body and it was enough to send him abruptly over the edge with Sherlock's name on his lips. His head was hung low as his shoulders moved with his quick and shallow breaths. "I love you. I love you." He lifted his head up slowly, grabbing his discarded shirt and slowly cleaning himself up. "Imagine my mouth on you, Sherlock. Sucking you off."

Even just imagining John giving him a blowjob was enough to make his breathing become uneven. It had become one of his favorite sensations Sherlock had come to experience since everything that had started between them and he whimpered with desire at the thought. His hand instantly picked up the pace and increased squeezing pressure. Given his current angle, when his body tensed and then went limp from his climax, he ended up coming all over the computer screen. He couldn't help but smirk. "Jesus John…what the hell…just words…thinking about it…never thought…" He trailed off, trying to catch his breath.

John watched with a smile, biting his bottom lip was he watched Sherlock climax. "Christ, that was hot." He laughed softly. It might have been the idea of being caught but he suddenly found himself exhausted. "Told you," he commented in a low tone, slowly letting his head drop with a satisfied groan. "Now just imagine how good it's going to be when I'm back in London." Both of his hands lifted up and rested at the back of his skull, contrasting sharply between tan skin and extremely blonde hair. "And now we're engaged. I hear it only gets better when we're married."

Sherlock smiled, even though the screen with John on it was a bit blurry from his mess. He would clean it later. "Better hmmm?" He paused for a moment before going on, "...John before you left you asked me to stay off the drugs. I promise I will, for you." If his dear doctor could promise to not relieve stress, he could promise this. It would be hard at times he knew, but he would do it.

John slowly lifted his head, his smile so wide it tugged at his ears. "Thank you." He took a deep breath and shifted in the chair to adjust himself, redoing his pants and buckling his belt. "I trust you. I know you will." He pursed his lips and glanced toward the door as a young woman's voice floated through the air. After the message had been relayed he glanced back at the computer. "One of the soldiers has woken up." He reached toward the ground, slipping his shoes on and setting his gun on the table in front of the keyboard. "I've got to go. I love you, Sherlock." He kept his eyes trained on Sherlock. He wouldn't be the one to end the video call.

Finally, a conversation that didn't end abruptly. "I love you too John. Call again when you can, I'll always answer. Good bye, for now." He gave a smile to the army doctor and then ended the call. The video chat had helped improved his mood a great deal. He redid his pants, got up off the floor, got a towel and then wiped the screen off. He pulled out his cell phone and sent a text to Mycroft.

We should have dinner and talk. –SH

John stared at the screen for a minute after the call before standing up and leaving the computer room with his gun in one hand and his shirt in the other.