Now, it was time for Sherlock to surprise John. He pulled out carefully, making John shudder with the sudden emptiness, and cleaned up. He wet down a cloth with warm water and carefully cleaned John, his hands slipping over John's over sensitive body and sending shudders throughout, weakening his knees even more. John watched in surprised and thanked Sherlock when he handed him his clothes. Sherlock slipped on his own clothes quickly.

Sherlock grabbed John's hand when he was done putting his clothes on, and dragged him into the sitting room onto the couch. He had him get onto the couch, and then wrapped himself around John, nuzzling into his neck.

"Erm... Sherlock? What are you doing?"

"Well… you..." Sherlock let out a frustrated sigh. "John, you just look so cozy, I'm sorry, I had to."

"Had to... cuddle? The great detective repairman loves cuddling?" John asked in a mocking voice. Sherlock hit John's knee with his own knee and grumbled. John laughed and Sherlock had to fight against smiling. He was upset, damn it! No time to smile. "No, it's... fine." John smiled and actually kissed Sherlock on the head, bringing out a content sigh in Sherlock as he held John closer.

They were there in silence for a good five minutes, listening to each other breathe. It was so comfortable that John was nearly asleep by the time he felt Sherlock stand up. He blinked a few times, willing his haziness away.

"Sherlock? What are you doing?"

"Wait here," is all he said as he walked into the kitchen. John had no problem with that, sighing and stretching out a little more. He hadn't realized he'd dozed off until he felt something on his face, caressing. He opened his eyes slightly to see Sherlock sitting on his heels in front of the couch, studying John's face with his eyes and hand tracing his jawline and soon his lips.

"Sherlock, wh..." John slurred out sleepy words, blinking at Sherlock in confusion in his half-asleep state. A smile played at Sherlock's lips.

"I made you tea."

"Tea?"

"Yes," Sherlock answered rather impatiently, holding the tea out for John to take. John pushed himself up slightly and took the tea, sipping at it. He opened his mouth to say something, but Sherlock began talking first. "You should feel lucky, I don't make tea for just anyone. Actually, this will probably be the only time I make tea for you." John blinked.

"It's good, erm... Thank you." Sherlock smiled. "Didn't you make any for yourself?"

"John, what did you do that got you so distracted?"

"I... What?"

"Your scar. You're clearly not a careless man, very skilled, very quick."

"Sherlock, I was in the middle of a war. I didn't have much of a chance to dodge a bullet."

"It's unlikely that it was anything but carelessness, John. What were you doing?" John was tense and sitting up straight. Sherlock sunk into the space next to him, slipping an arm over and lightly touching where the scar would be under John's clothing, causing John to clench his teeth slightly and sigh. He took a bit gulp of his tea. Sherlock traced the scar. John chugged the rest of his tea in annoyance. "John…"

"I told you, Sherlock," John leaned forward and put his mug down on the table, only to be pulled back by Sherlock.

"John, you've told me what you think I'm willing to accept. What you think I'm stupid enough to believe. However, I don't think you quite realize how adept I am at figuring anything out that I'm very curious about. This, however, isn't extremely apparent. Tell me."

"If you're such a fantastic detective, then figure it out for yourself," John snapped, not breaking eye contact. "On second thought, just drop it all together." Sherlock was still for a second, just studying John. John clenched his jaw, his breathing slightly uneven in anger. Sherlock's expression softened slightly. He opened his mouth- "I said DROP it, Sherlock."

"Was he your only friend there, or just your closest?" John squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to keep his temper in check. Naturally, Sherlock being Sherlock, he was curious and was bound to ask questions. But John had just told him not to.

"He wasn't shot; he was kidnapped, taken prisoner right in front of your eyes? You had a limp a while back, too, didn't you? How'd you get rid of it? It was psychosomatic, I'm sure your therapist had you doing different things, but that really wasn't enough, was it? No… You had to find something war-like to keep your interest. The danger, the only thing you had left of him. It wasn't romantic, was it? It couldn't have been, if you thought you were straight when you came back. Then again, I suppose it could have been a woman. That much, I don't think I could do much more than guess at."

There was no way Sherlock didn't know what he was doing to John. John's breathing was irregular, he could hear his heartbeat in his temple from the anger seething through him, tensed jaw and closed eyes as he felt Sherlock's hand slip under his jumper to feel the scar.

"So, he got taken away right in front of your eyes- they only wanted one, so they went to shoot you, but you weren't paying any attention because you flung yourself after him, grabbing his leg. He wasn't conscious, was he? And you passed out when you got shot. I can tell you for a fact that they were going to shoot you in the head, thank god they didn't, and I can tell by your face, by the psychology surrounding your limp that you weren't out for long. You saw them kill him."

John's fist collided with Sherlock's chin.