After five hours of paper work and shocked expressions I drag Sherlock home. We were both surprised that Sherlock was patted on the back by most of the Yarders for screwing with Anderson. They were all happy to have a story to tell. I was even more surprised by the people that apologized for not believing him.

As we enter the flat I can see that the day has taken its toll on Sherlock. He looks exhausted. I can see the tension in his movements.

"Come on Sherlock. Up the stairs. Time for a rest. You look like you are going to drop at any second." I steer Sherlock toward my room. "Strip down to your pants and lay down."

"John, that is not very romantic." Sherlock grins down at me.

"Cute. Just do it, you need to relax." I say as I help take his suit jacket off. "I'll be right back."

I decide to go down and make a cuppa for us. I need Sherlock to relax and I am hoping that he may sleep for a little bit.

XXXXXXXXX

As I come back into the room with a tray of tea and biscuits, I see Sherlock laying across the middle of the bed. He is stripped down to his pants and he is laying on his stomach.

I lay the tray on the dresser. Slowly I walk over to the bed and check to see if he is awake. His eyes are closed, but as I approach I see him grin.

"Your bed is quite comfortable, I could get use to it." He opens his eyes and wiggles his eye brows.

I snort, seeing something so not typical for him to do. It is almost alien. It feels good to see him being playful.

I crawl up on the bed and move over to him. I cringe inward looking at the scars and welts on his back and thighs. His poor body has been abused and tormented. I can assume he did some of the torment himself. He has never been very good at taking care of himself.

Softly I trace my finger across a scar. I follow its path until it disappears below his pants, I know it continues under the fabric, until I see it again on his thigh. Scar after scar, and welt after welt, I trace a feather soft touch across his flesh. I feel like I am trying to erase the pain that came from receiving these marks. I want to erase the memory with something more pleasant and gentle.

"I was there for two weeks. I had been able to immerse myself into the web that was Moriarty's lackies. I had taken apart ever other group and I was down to the last one. I was too preoccupied with the fact that I was almost done. I was almost ready to come home. I wasn't as careful." Sherlock begins, not once do I stop touching.

"His name was Sebastian Moran. He was Moriarty's second. He may have been more to him, it is hard to tell with a man like that. Moran had orders to shoot you if I didn't jump. He was last on my list to kill, hardest to find." Sherlock sighs under my fingers. I want him to relax but I know he has to get the story out. He needs to explain.

"He was brilliant. Oh not as good as Jim, but he was smart. I under estimated him. When they figured out who I was I lost it. I was afraid he would try to play out his contract he had with Moriarty. I thought that everything I had worked for the last two years was going to be for nothing. You and I would both end up dead. I felt like I failed."

I feel Sherlock shiver. He is re-living that moment. The moment he thought he had lost me anyway. Slowly I sit up and gently straddle his back, holding most of my weight on my knees. I replace my fingers with my lips. Kissing every mark he has on his back.

"Of course Moran was going to take advantage of the moment. I had destroyed the rest of the web and now he was going to enjoy destroying me. Twice a day I was lashed. First they left the trousers on, but then the skin on my upper back just didn't show the marks any longer. I was just chewed up. After that I was stripped naked and left like that. Little food or water, just enough to keep me alive. After two weeks he grew lax on locking the door to the cell I was in. He thought me much weaker than I was. I had lived on little to no food for a long while and it took more than a few lashings to beat me." Sherlock smirks. I shake my head. Only he could be proud of the control he had over food. He is a classic case of anorexia, but I wasn't going to argue at the moment.

"One night I stood up and walked out of the cell. I turned on the propane tanks as I walked out. I made sure Moran and all his men were up in the bunk room. Within a few minutes I was out the door with clothes and weapons and I blew the fucking place up. I may have under estimated him, but he sure as hell didn't have a clue about who I was and what I would do to protect you. It took me another three weeks to get back to London, to get back to you."

I feel overwhelmed and emotional. For two years, Sherlock fought and survived while I sat here stewing in my own sadness. He has worked so hard to get back to me and I almost destroyed that.

Sherlock could sense my distress. He slowly rolls over, not letting me up. He moves me so I am sitting on his upper thighs, with him laying under me. His hands grab the bottom of my shirt and he lifts it up. I help him remove it.

My head is swimming with thoughts. I wonder what would have become of Sherlock if I had succeeded in taking my life. He would have fought for nothing.

"John, stop." Sherlock clips. He takes his hands and pulls me down to him. I am face to face with him. "I am here. You are here. That is what matters."

"I don't deserve you." I tell him.

"Oh please. I am stubborn, irritating, and a bit crazy. No one can deal with me but you, no one has ever wanted to deal with me John. You are kind, gentle, and unbelievably patient. You and I need to understand that for two years we did what we did to survive. We may not have done a great job, but we are here. That counts John. I am not always good with words John, but for you I would go through it all again."

I just look into his eyes. I usually have plenty of words, whether written or spoken, but now, I am speechless. I figure I'll let my mouth tell Sherlock without using words. I catch his lips in mine and kiss him gently. The kiss is soft and full of promise. Promise of a future, promise of love, a promise to be for each other what we have been missing. It is tender and sensual, unrushed and slow. We both know that right now, we need calmness. The passion and excitement will come later.

Sherlock moves me to his side and curls up around me. I feel his body relax. I pull the sheets up around us and pull him closer. I let the tea get cold and fall asleep with Sherlock. My last thought is that I will do this for the rest of my life.