A/N: Sorry for the short break! Here's the next chapter, hope you like it! Reviews are awesome you guys! Thanks so much!

Warning: Fluff

-0.0-

Hours passed before Sherlock stopped his experimentation with an abrupt pause, the loss of John's presence only now dawning on him.

Where did he- ah, the bedroom.

Quietly, Sherlock tip toed over to the bedroom door, his breathing stopping momentarily in favor of listening to John's own reassuring breaths.

The detective waited until he heard the slow, soft, breathing of his lover from behind the door before gently pushing it open, not surprised when he found the doctor's head resting just in front of his arm, (had been holding his head up with his hand while looking out the window, it would seem) his soft snores filling the room while his body instinctively curled up in itself from the cold as his blankets lay forgotten on the ground.

Unable to resist a smile, Sherlock stood in the doorway, his back leaning against the door frame while his arms crossed over his chest, the detective's eyes, however, were nothing but calculating as he looked over the ex-army doctor with endearment, saving the image to his mind palace as he so often did with things involving John.

There was a tiny stir from the doctor, followed by a small noise of comfort that could easily have gone unnoticed if Sherlock hadn't been Sherlock, and suddenly the consulting detective found simply watching unbearable as he crossed the room and slid into the bed next to the doctor, grabbing the blankets along the way as he tossed it over himself and the sleeping man.

Loosely, Sherlock let his hand rest on the doctor's waist, prepared to retract it at any second if John so much as breathed a stutter. Luckily, he didn't, so Sherlock took it upon himself to close his eyes and simply feel the heat radiating off of the smaller man's back as he drifted off to sleep.

Several more hours came and went until Sherlock found himself stirring back into consciousness, the warmth of sunlight on his face letting him know that it was still before noon as his eyes blinked open.

Before the detective were pools of familiar dark blue, the beautiful irises large as sunlight danced throughout the room.

"Good morning" John greeted with a cheerful smile and endearing crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

"Good morning" Sherlock replied as he slowly reached up the hand that had somehow managed to stay around John's waist, if not a little higher than when he had first placed it there, to gently cup the side of John's cheek, that of whom leaned into the touch as Sherlock's thumb slid across the doctor's cheek bone.

With a lazy smile, John reversed the action with his own hand against the detective's face, followed by a gentle pull forward as John closed the distance, his eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his lips softly against Sherlock's for the first time.

Just like that, however, it was over, and John was pulling back, his smile only broadening when Sherlock stared back at him like a deer caught in headlights.

"Good?" John asked, a bit hesitantly as Sherlock seemed to look right through him, lost in his own mind palace no doubt.

Suddenly, the detective seemed to snap out of it as he propped up on his elbow and stared down at the doctor before placing his lips gingerly against John's own, this time experimentally moving them slowly as he calculated the way John's breath hitched, mixing momentarily with his own small moan as he broke their contact apart and met John's now dilated eyes with his own, no doubt equally dilated ones.

"Good" He confirmed with a smile and small peck to John's cheek before crawling over him and standing up to his full height.

"Now, what are you feeling as far as lunch goes?" Sherlock inquired breathlessly as he looked out their windows to see the sun smiling back at them from above the clear blue skies, the storm seemingly having passed from the day before.

"Sherlock.."

Sherlock turned his head over and down to look at the doctor who was sitting up in bed, his eyes focused on the sheets as he addressed the detective.

"You know, I... we... could umm... try more... umm... stuff..." John proposed sheepishly, his cheeks a light pink that contrasted adorably with his light, if not slightly tanned, complexion.

"John.."

The doctor looked over in the direction of his lover, surprised when he was in fact much closer than expected, the tall detective kneeling before him and reaching for John's hand, which he gladly gave him.

"I love you"

Slightly taken aback by the foreign words emanating from Sherlock's mouth, John's surprise quickly converted to heartwarming affection as he replied, "I love you too"

"and.." Sherlock added slowly as he let his forehead hit up lightly against John's. "..because I love you... I'm not going to let you pressure yourself into... that... until I know, and you know, you're ready... okay?"

John bit his lip and promptly looked away, his head disconnecting with Sherlock's as he looked down at their interlocked hands. "Sherlock... I honestly don't know what I'm ready for... or when and if I'll ever be ready to.. give myself to you completely... unless I- we, try.."

With another quick kiss to the side of John's face, Sherlock stands again to his full height and releases the doctor's hands from his own. "We'll just have to see how it goes, then" He decides, which in turn makes John huff a small laugh as he too rose to stand beside the detective.

"Not the cafe, they're probably not even open after that whole incident the other day, and I get the feeling a home cooked meal is out of the question- you probably destroyed the kitchen with your latest experiments" John mentions casually as he bends back down to look through his clothing for a suitable, clean, outfit, to put on. They'd really have to start doing laundry soon.

"It.. may be rather compromised at the moment, yes" Sherlock confesses as he glances out the partially open door he hadn't bothered to close earlier and peered out into the mess of a kitchen.

"Alright" John huffed as he pulled out the pair of jeans he had been looking for with a small, triumphant, smile. "Know of any Italian restaurants around the area?"

"I'll look into it" Sherlock decides as he shifts through the door and closes it gently behind himself, determined to buy himself time before John realized exactly what kind of condition the kitchen was in. Sherlock may have gotten a little carried away with all of the food deterioration rates caused by different natural acidic chemicals he had been so focused on earlier.

Promptly, he sniffed, deciding where to throw everything before quickly getting to work at tossing things down the drain, out the back door, in the garbage, and deep within the expansive cabinets of the kitchen until, nearly ten minutes later, John walked out into the dining room/ kitchen, his teeth brushed, hair combed, and clothes changed. The doctor yawned as he stepped out of the bedroom, followed by walking over to Sherlock, who was holding a very deranged plastic spoon that just so happened to have been unlucky enough to fall into a jar of acidic jam behind his back, having not found a place for it quite yet.

"Did you clean?" John asked, a quirk to his lips as he looked over the counter to find the whole room oddly... organized- if not barren, despite the strange smells that seemed to seep through every crevice.

"Is the smell permanent?" He decided was a better question when Sherlock seemed to refuse to answer the first one, his hands stationed defiantly behind his back as he stared at the doctor from across the kitchen.

"No! No, umm... no, it's not- should clear out within the hour if we open a window" Sherlock finally answers just as John is about to open one of the cabinets.

"Oh.. kay" John claps as he goes over to one of the windows in the dining room, turning his back just long enough for Sherlock to dispose of the spoon into one of the drawers, the sound of it shutting catching John's attention as the doctor spins around, slightly startled.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That sound... did you open a drawer or something?"

"No idea what you're talking about, John, let's hurry so we can beat the crowd" Sherlock rattles on quickly as he crosses the room and tugs at John's arm, dragging the confused doctor behind him despite his protests of having not opened the window yet.

Wouldn't make a difference anyway, the smell isn't going away until the decomposition is complete.

-0.0-

"Established in 1864, Speranza, Italian for hope, has been known to be one of the most exquisite Italian restaurants in the area. More importantly, however, the man who started the business actually murdered his wife on opening day, she had been sleeping with one of their valet's, that of whom murdered the husband two days later. Speranza was then passed down to their son, who renamed the establishment "Omicidio", Italian for murder. Ten years later, the son committed suicide and his wife took over, changing the name back to Speranza." Sherlock informed the doctor excitedly as they were seated at a table set for two after using Mycroft's security pass to acquire a table. Risky, yes, but they were hours from South Downs and Mycroft only gets slower as time goes on.

"That's... awful, actually.. where on earth did you learn that from, Google?" John asked as he looked around the ridiculously upper class restaurant.

"A book, actually, some years ago. I've always wanted to come but never had the time or..."

John looked over at the detective, confused as to why he was hesitating- Sherlock rarely hesitated.

"...the company.." Sherlock finally confessed with a glance elsewhere, refusing to meet John's soft eyes.

"Their loss" John shrugged, followed by a smile as Sherlock turned to stare at him, a smile forming across his own lips the longer blue looked into blue/gray/green/gold- a very complicated color, just like the man they belonged to.

"Might I offer you a bottle of our finest, Mr. Holmes? On the house" A young waiter with a thick Italian accent asked with a smile as he held out a bottle of crisp red wine.

"Yes, thank you" Sherlock nodded, glancing at John who was trying to hide his smile and failing as the waiter poured their glasses before walking away with a polite, "Gustare"

"You know this isn't exactly hiding, right? I mean, look at us, we stick out like a sore thumb! Well, alright, maybe not you with your ridiculously expensive suits but I, on the other hand, am not dressed to impress- not to mention Mycroft, and probably Moriarty, are going to find out about this sooner or later" John whispered, leaning across the table so that only Sherlock could hear him.

Sherlock smiled and mimicked John's movement, leaning forward across the table. "Oh please, you're one of the least conspicuous ones here. Look to your left- funeral gathering, all in black, mostly expensive attire, however, a few friends of the family and other not quite so well off members are certainly not "Dressed to impress". Of that group there are two mail order brides, one hooker, and six drug addicts high to the point where they're hallucinating, seemingly horrific events given their expressions as they stare at their water, several plants, and, in that particular young lady's case, the poor man next to her. She believes he stole her pony. As for the rest of the patrons, they're too captivated by their own affairs and self pity to pay any of us any mind- finding themselves to be the most conspicuous of the lot. Paranoia, it'll do that to you."

John turned to look peculiarly at the funeral gathering, just in time to see one of the young women slap a man across the face and growl, "Give me Pony Tony back!"

Why on earth a funeral gathering would go to a restaurant this pristine, John would never know. Sherlock, however, somehow knew it to be the favorite restaurant of the man who died. He would have explained it to the doctor, however, seeing as how it involved an affair and several orgasms in the restaurant's kitchen, Sherlock deemed it best to not unsettle the ex-army doctor currently sipping from his wine glass.

"That- is... incredibly strong, especially for wine- I feel like I've got a buzz going on, already" John pointed out with a huff as he set the glass down at stared at it's contents with a confused frown.

With a frown of his own, Sherlock bent over his wine and sniffed the glass before swirling it with a quirk in his eyebrow.

"Interesting"

"What? What's interesting?" John asked quickly, instinctively gulping the mouthful of wine he had just poured into his mouth, only now realizing that the strong taste might not be a good thing as Sherlock looked pointedly at the doctor's glass still in his hands. John followed Sherlock's gaze, the world starting to tilt a little as he looked down at the wine. He couldn't have gotten drunk after just that, could he?

"Not lethal, no worries. Just... well... don't drink any more, it would appear they've given us the wrong bottle."

John stared dumbly for a minute as Sherlock stared back, his eyes unwavering as he waited for John's intoxicated mind to catch up. "Oh god.." He finally muttered, his suddenly very light and almost unattached head coming down to rest in his hands.

"Shame, this restaurant will no doubt go under as soon as it gets out that they help supply the date rape drug to their customers." Sherlock muttered quietly to his companion as he looked out across the patrons, easily spotting who the wine was meant to be sent to.

John groaned into his hands, seemingly unable to conjure up an appropriate response as Sherlock swiped a phone from one of the passing waiters and sent off a quick text to Lestrade. May not be in his jurisdiction but no doubt he'll send the information to whoever is in charge around here.

"Well, we best be off, then. We can pick up some Italian take out on the way back" Sherlock proclaimed as he left the phone on the table and walked around to wrap his suit jacket around John before lifting the groggy doctor to his feet. Got to disappear before the police show up, after all.

-0.0-

"Is this going to be a regular thing, then? You drugging me?" John asked gruffly as he slowly fell out of his daze, having not taken enough for it to have affected his memory- hmm.. perhaps it simply wasn't one that affected the memory? Perhaps, if he had waited, there would have also been a corpse.

Date rape and a murder? That restaurant would definitely not see another customer again.

"I didn't drug you this time" Sherlock pointed out as he leaned over to check the doctor's pulse while said doctor groaned from the bed as two warm fingers pressed against his skin.

"No, I suppose you didn't- some random bloke did, god help me" John practically chuckled, the idea that everyone was out to mess with his blood stream being comical if not slightly worrisome.

"Oh! Right, yes! I have a series of follow up questions regarding yesterday's experiment with the tea." Sherlock proclaimed as he jumped to his feet and ran into the kitchen to grab the laptop.

"No, please no, Sherlock. Can't it wait, you know, until I have full movement of my limbs at least?" John pleaded as Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed beside the doctor.

With a huff, Sherlock closed his laptop and looked curiously out at their bees, his lips forming a straight line as he did so. Could be interesting, collecting honey, he supposed... while waiting for John to be able to move again, anyway, then back to the experiment...

Weakly, John reached up and grabbed at Sherlock's sleeve, catching the detective's attention. Bees will also have to wait, it would seem.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked as he quickly gave the doctor a once over, searching for any discomfort.

"No, no it's not that, just.. umm.. could you lay with me for a little while? Before you run off to destroy the kitchen or whatever it is you've got scheduled for the afternoon?" The doctor asked, his eye line low and to the floor where he looked upon the bags of Italian take out neither of them had the appetite for at the moment. John, because he was just drugged, and Sherlock, because, well, he was Sherlock.

"Of course" Sherlock said with a light kiss to John's temple before setting down the computer on the ground and sliding up behind John in their bed, his arms tentatively wrapping around the doctor, that of whom softly eased into the touch and let out a soft sigh as he felt the curls of Sherlock's hair tickle the nape of his neck.

"Sherlock.." John breathed softly.

"Yes?" The detective asked, kissing John's shoulder in the process, his wounded shoulder, just above where he predicted the bullet wound would be.

"About earlier today..."

"Yes? Are you not feeling alright?" Sherlock asked, suddenly in a panic- poisons do often have delayed results, especially when taken in small proportions- how stupid of him to not consider something else lurking in the date rape dru-

"No, it's has nothing to do with my health.."

Sherlock immediately relaxed back down into the bed, holding John ever so slightly tighter as if he could slip away at any second.

"Then what is it?" He mumbled into the crook of John's neck, the vibrations making the ex-army doctor squirm as much as his drugged body would allow.

"Today, at the restaurant, you just seemed so-"

"I'm not going back into consulting, John, we talked about this" Sherlock filled in the blanks for himself, immediately disregarding the doctor's concern. He was happy where he was now with John- he would take it over being a consulting detective any day.

"I know we did, and I know you think this is going to be enough for you, but eventually you're going to run out of people you can deduce around here and-"

Sherlock grabbed John's shoulder and twisted him around, looming over the smaller man as he held him down by the shoulders and straddled his lap- not that he needed to be held down or anything, it wasn't like he could go anywhere if he wanted to. "John, breathe. Just breathe, and think. You know me better than anyone, do you really think I would just hop on a train with you if I wasn't absolutely certain this was what I wanted?"

Despite being startled, John did as instructed and simply breathed, allowing the oxygen to reach his brain while he thought about everything that's happened between the two of them since the day they met back at .

"...Christ, Sherlock... I just... I'm so.. normal... and you're so... I'm sorry it's just... hard to believe, that you would be satisfied with someone.. someone like me.." John fumbled out, his mind whirring as he thought to all of their days together back in London, the crimes, the deductions, Sherlock... He was his own category where as John was... well, just an ex-army doctor that blended in with the crowd.

Sherlock promptly breathed a small laugh as he looked down at the doctor.

"You're far from normal, John, believe me. Normal people can't stand me and I can't stand normal people- you know this. Everyone who's met me knows this and you, John, are the only person I would ever go to these extremes for. So please, trust me when I say there is no where I would rather be, than here with you, John Hamish Watson, the man I've given my heart to."

John felt his heart melt a little at the words, god help him if Sherlock ever changed his mind on this because there's no way John could ever love anyone else after this ridiculous, childish, absolutely brilliant man.

In a feeble attempt, John tried to reach for the back of Sherlock's neck, only to make it to the detective's waist before giving out and resting on Sherlock's hips.

"Alright, you're going to have to come down here to kiss me because I can't move that far yet" John sighed, pleased when Sherlock promptly cupped his jaw and angled his head up for desperate kiss, as if he'd been waiting to do that since their conversation started, possibly longer.

John let out a weak, heart fluttering noise from the back of his throat as he felt Sherlock's tongue slide across his bottom lip and opened his mouth to let him in, moaning into the kiss as he let Sherlock take control.

And then Sherlock broke them apart, his mouth hover just over John's as their breaths mingled.

"John.." He breathed, frustrating John to no end as his limbs refused to move in his favor and having no other way to pull Sherlock against him again.

"Sherlock.." He sighed back, deciding to put himself in Sherlock's hands since he couldn't really do anything himself.

"The umm... kitchen cabinets and such, uhh... they're full of decomposing.. items, that's where the smell is coming from.. I thought I should tell you before... before I tried kissing you again.." Sherlock confessed, slightly out of breath as he kept his eyes half lidded and focused intently on John's chest, watching it rise and fall with every breath he took.

His chest suddenly began to shake, however, as tiny chuckled rippled through the doctor's body, catching Sherlock's attention as he made eye contact with amused, lust filled, dark blue eyes.

"You didn't have to hide them, you know- your experiments, I was expecting to see them anyway when I walked out. Besides, I've seen much worse that decomposing "Items" as you've so put it, so long as it's not Ben you've got decomposing in our cabinets, I think you're fine to kiss me again"

"Hmm.. no, Charlie's son is safe... for now... Your jam, however-"

"You didn't"

"I did"

He couldn't help it, John smiled, and in return, Sherlock smiled, followed by planting a gentle, open mouthed kiss to John's lips, which he responded to rather enthusiastically.

They kept going on like that, soft, slow, open mouthed kisses for quite a while until it eventually began to die down to pecks, which eventually led to John falling asleep and Sherlock, who decided against going out to play with his bees, typing away at his computer with one hand while his other tangled slowly with lock's of John's hair.

-0.0-

A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews are lovely!