Disclaimer: I own nothing, 'Sherlock' belongs to the creators of BBC's show, I profit from nothing; I'm just playing the game, dancing along to the tune desperately hoping not to poke out one of my eyes in the process.

A/N: I apologise for the wait, as it happens a bloody pigeon flew into my apartment and stole my muse… Well, the part with the pigeon is a lie, obviously, though pigeons are scary. My inspiration did, however, get lost, so it took a little longer writing this chapter than expected.

Beta: Once again thanks to CowMow for reading it through, any mistakes that occurs are, off course, mine :-)

Important: I know I've said it before, but just to make sure: if this story disappears from FF, then I'll post it on my LJ page:

escapeoath dot livejournal dot com

There's not really much on there now, but if lightening strikes, this is where I'll migrate.

Redemption
John's PoV

When they got inside 221B John followed closely behind Sherlock on the way up the stairwell to their flat, not really knowing what to expect. In the cab, Sherlock's eyes had lit up and he had begun ranting to John about something to do with motives for murders and how he now understood the 'why' better – and John had the distinct feeling, judging by Sherlock's enthusiasm, that he was about to spend the better half of an afternoon listening to Sherlock mumbling to himself on the subject. Even though he would have preferred to spend the time differently, he was glad that everything was now back to normal, or rather: better than normal. It seemed to him that they could finally have a chat about where they were going with this (which, admittedly, they already had to some extend) – and if they should terminate one of the bedrooms' statuses as bedroom.

Reaching their hallway John headed off in the direction of the kitchen, he really needed that cuppa he didn't have earlier.

"John?" Sherlock said in a low voice, and John realised that the other man had stopped in the hallway instead of going into the drawing room. He began turning around, preparing himself to say something soothing to Sherlock, which, from the sound of his voice, seemed necessary.

He didn't get far in his motion, instead he felt a strong grip on his wrists as he was twirled around and found his back slammed against the kitchen door, arms pinned above his head. Sherlock pressed himself against him, and John gulped as he stared into his eyes and saw an indefinable expression. Sherlock's pupils were clearly dilated, his lips slightly parted and his breathing grew heavier as a blush grew on his cheeks. At the same time his eyes were penetrating John's, seemingly trying to see every thought and emotion going on inside of him. He felt rather exposed being pinned up like this, his body not knowing whether to respond to Sherlock's arousal or to the dangerous, penetrating glance in his eyes.

"You are never going to leave me." It sounded like a statement, but John could see how Sherlock's eyes changed ever so slightly, revealing that it was just as much a question as it was a statement.

"No, not unless you want me to," John said as he tried to give the other man a reassuring smile, which seemed almost impossible as John felt how his body decided to respond to the arousal as his breath became shallow and his heart started to pound faster the more of Sherlock's body heat it received.

Sherlock leaned forward; brushing his lips against John's ear he whispered, "I. don't. ever. want. you. to. leave. me."

John panted and let out the breath of air he had not been aware he had been holding. He was now acutely aware of Sherlock's erection pressing against his hipbone.

The taller man took both of John's wrists in his left hand, keeping him pinned in a strong grip, while he slowly let the fingers of his other hand slide down John's arm and find its way up to his face and cupped his cheek. He extracted himself enough to look into John's eyes and drew in a ragged breath before he closed his eyes and placed a soft kiss upon John's lips.

John felt his stomach flutter and reciprocated the kiss eagerly, parting his lips to invite Sherlock's tongue inside. An invitation the other man wasn't late to accept as he moaned and deepened the kiss, pushing John into the wooden door with all of his weight.

Sherlock moved his free hand down and tugged at John's jumper and shirt; seemingly not wanting to break neither his hold on John nor their kiss out of fear that John might disappear if he did so. John felt the pressure on his wrists ease up as Sherlock chose to dedicate both of his hands to get John out of the fabric covering his upper body, pulling them off in one swift movement.

John buried his fingers in Sherlock's dark curls and pulled the taller man closer. He could feel Sherlock's fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt-buckle and realised that if he was not to get caught naked by Mrs. Hudson, they had to move themselves out of their hallway before she decided to pop up to say hello, her timing almost always being impeccable.

"Sherlock…" John panted, "Sherlock we should mo-"

Sherlock silenced him effectively by cutting off his air supply with his lips, but it seemed that the other man got the message, because instead of opening his belt, he hooked a slim finger just behind John's waistband and walked backwards, dragging John with him towards his bedroom.

John felt himself being pushed down on the bed and Sherlock literally fell on top of him, pinning him down once more as he kissed his way down John's jaw and neck. John intertwined his fingers in Sherlock's curls once more and groaned when he felt Sherlock's fingers resuming their work on his belt. He tightened his grip on the other man's hair and dragged him up into a kiss, pushing his tongue into his mouth. Sherlock moaned into his mouth and the soft sound sent shivers down John's spine.

He released Sherlock's hair from his tight grip and began to push off his blazer, the damn thing felt like it had been glued to Sherlock's shirt and the soft, white body underneath. Sherlock didn't seem the least interested in helping him getting it off, in fact he was rather distracting in the process as he straddled John and began grinding against his erection, reminding John that the clever thing would have been to let Sherlock take off his trousers while he were at it.

Finally he managed to get the blazer off of Sherlock. He threw it with all the force he could muster somewhere in the room – it clearly landed on something that fell to the floor and broke. Sherlock either didn't registrar the sound, or he simply ignored it, and kissed his way down the line of John's jaw until he reached his ear and softly sucked the earlobe,

"I want to know I'm yours," Sherlock panted, his lips still so close that John more felt than heard the words.

Feeling his breath escape him at the sound of the words, he tumbled Sherlock over and pinned him between himself and the bed, and gazed down into the grey eyes staring up at him. He didn't need to be Sherlock to figure out that the look in Sherlock's eyes revealed both desire and longing. It would probably be the closest Sherlock would ever get to telling John he loved him, but John could live with that when he knew that the feelings were there.

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's forehead and heard a soft gasp escaping Sherlock's mouth. Resting his forehead against Sherlock's he whispered softly, "Of course you're mine, you'll always be mine. I love you Sherlock, you know that."

He kissed Sherlock softly on the lips and felt the other man reciprocate, one of his hands coming up to cup John's cheek tenderly.

John disentangled himself from Sherlock and unbuttoned his shirt, this time he had a little more help in getting the fabric to part from the skin. He heard Sherlock drawing in a breath and holding it as he unzipped his trousers before slowly pulling them off along with the rest of the fabric that hid the pale skin underneath. John couldn't help himself and stood still on the floor watching the naked body stretch out on the bed before him. He took on the soft, dark curls, the eyes which did their best to hide the vulnerability of the owner from the rest of the world, from everyone who wasn't John, the perfect, soft lips now slightly swollen from kissing, the long pale neck, the well-defined muscles of the equally pale torso, the soft black hairs on the abdomen, the throbbing, dark erection, the long, pale legs and feet sticking out over the edge of the bed.

Sherlock stretched out a hand in an inviting gesture, silently begging him to come back to the bed. John stripped off the last of his clothes and retrieved a bottle of lube from the nightstand before crawling back into the bed. He slicked the fingers of his left hand and kissed Sherlock as his hand found its way between Sherlock's thighs and one of his fingers pushed into him. Sherlock moaned and buried a hand in John's short hair, the other finding John's erection. John groaned as an electric current travelled through his body.

He inserted a second finger, and slowly began scissoring Sherlock open, struggling to keep his pace steady and controlled while Sherlock's grip on his own erection tightened and the pace of his strokes quickened. John could feel Sherlock's hot breath on his neck and his lips almost touching his skin.

"John…" Sherlock panted, "John, take me now."

John groaned when he heard the words. He extracted his fingers from Sherlock and reached over to retrieve a pillow and placed it underneath the other man to make sure the angle would be comfortable.

Sherlock spread his legs to make room for him, and John added more lube to his erection before entering him slowly, extracting out a loud moan from the man underneath him. John panted; he could feel he was already close, too close for his own liking. He focused on keeping a steady pace as he found Sherlock's prostate and concentrated on hitting it again and again.

Sherlock groaned and wrapped his arms and legs around John, forcing him to quicken his pace and push himself harder into him.

"Oh God, Sher… Sherlock if you keep this up…" John struggled to say between each stroke. Sherlock didn't seem to care; he looked up at John and placed a hungry kiss on his lips before using his legs to quicken the pace even more.

Sherlock broke away from the kiss when he arched his neck and back backwards with a loud groan and John felt the limbs and muscles that surrounded him tighten as the other man forcefully came. He couldn't hold himself any longer; the sight before him combined with the pressure proved to be too much and he came with a loud moan.

They lay still for a moment, trying to catch their breath. John could feel their hearts racing and smell the mixing of their sweat.

He placed a chaste kiss on Sherlock's lips before he carefully extracted himself from him. Sherlock turned to lie on his side, his back turned towards John in what looked a lot like a foetal position. John looked at his back and he could see how Sherlock's body moved with every shaky breath he took, clearly he was forcing himself to calm down after the orgasm, trying in an, to John, almost desperate manner to regain control over his body.

He moved closer to Sherlock so that their sweaty bodies touched and wrapped an arm around him, tenderly placing a kiss on his neck before breathing in his scent. John moved his hand up from Sherlock's stomach and placed it over his heart, feeling the fast pace slowly calming down.

"I love you, you know that?" John whispered to the back of Sherlock's head. There came no answer other than the slight increase of the other man's heartbeat.

They lay like that for a while, and John couldn't help but wonder how Sherlock could ever doubt him. If anyone should doubt anyone, it should be him doubting Sherlock – and admittedly he had – since Sherlock seemed far from capable of formulating his feelings and tended to do stupid things when he felt cornered. For a moment John thought about ignoring it all and just be happy that he finally seemed allowed to officially consider Sherlock his partner. But he would probably never have as good a chance as this to clear things up between them,

"Sherlock?" he said softly. Sherlock stirred a bit to pretend that he had fallen asleep,

"Mmm…"

"Sherlock, can I ask you something?" John whispered hesitantly.

"Technically you already have – twice deeming by the tone of your voice the first time you said my name. But go ahead, ask a third question," Sherlock said in an exasperated tone of voice.

John rolled his eyes as he translated Sherlock's words to 'If you learn to use the English language correctly, then by all means do ask your question if you deem it necessary',

"If you were afraid of me leaving you to have children and get married… Then why were you afraid that Greg and I… were 'intimate' as you put it?" John could feel Sherlock's body tense up, his muscles feeling like they were getting ready to flight rather than fight,

"Sherlock, it's okay, but I would like to know if this… this kind of thing is something we would have to deal with in the future…" John whispered tenderly as he softly stroked the skin above Sherlock's heart.

"It is not, I assure you," Sherlock answered in a whisper.

John drew in a breath; he had to see this through to the end,

"Then tell me why you thought what you did." Sherlock's body went even tenser and John smiled a little as he thought he could literally feel Sherlock thinking hard.

"I… it doesn't matter." The words were almost inaudible and it would seem Sherlock was talking more to the bed than to John.

"It matters to you, and therefore it matters to me." John said, trying to sound as soothing as possible.

"Fine…"Sherlock let out a sigh "Logically it does not make any sense, I'm well aware of that. Especially considering the kind of person you are – and Lestrade for that matter. I was perhaps overreacting; I was afr… I assumed you were going to leave me, and I'm aware of the fact that Lestrade has some interest in you." The words flowed out of Sherlock in a fast stream, and John had to concentrate to grasp the meaning. When he did, it was his turn to tense up; he did see why Sherlock's behaviour made logical sense in its own way – even though it was a way Sherlock himself wouldn't recognise as logical.

"And it would seem that you are aware of his interest as well," Sherlock said and placed a hand on top of John's, giving it a soft squeeze, "and besides, I had a rather disturbing dream thanks to, amongst other things, that horrible movie you showed me not long ago with the Austrian actor who got pregnant."

John raised his eyebrows a bit and stared at Sherlock's curls, he knew exactly to what movie Sherlock was referring. So it would appear that even the great Sherlock Holmes were affected subconsciously by the world and the things in it,

"I see." John said, and Sherlock shifted a little so he could look up at John,

"You see? How can you, it hardly makes any sense." He crinkled his brows and studied John's face as if he could deduce the answer just by looking at him. Had their conversation been about anything else than this, he probably would have succeeded. John chuckled softly and stroked Sherlock on the smooth skin on his stomach,

"It does to me, at least." He placed a kiss on Sherlock's forehead before he untangled himself from Sherlock, who in return made a grumpy sound.

"I need food, I think we both do, no matter how much you might object."

John quickly put on his trousers and went into the kitchen to see what they had in the fridge. To his (not so big) surprise it was completely empty, except from some tomatoes that had clearly seen better days. He couldn't help but smile a little at the lack of body parts.

"What are you smiling at?" Sherlock's voice came from the door opening.

"Nothing, nothing at all. Look, I'll go out and get us some dinner – Chinese?" John looked at Sherlock and tried his best to keep the smile under control. If Sherlock found out he knew about the fridge, it probably wouldn't take long before body parts once again made their presence known in the flat.

"If you insist," Sherlock said, sounding appalled at the mere thought of eating.

John gave him a quick peck on the cheek as he passed him and retrieved his jumper from the hallway floor.

Out on the street John took in a deep breath of fresh London air – coughed a bit and began walking in the direction of the Chinese restaurant. He had a hard time controlling his smile as he walked in a quick pace. All he really wanted was to go back to the flat and watch crap telly cuddled up on the sofa with Sherlock.

A sleek, black car pulled up to the kerb next to him, and he felt his stomach drop, this couldn't have happened at a worse time.

The driver got out and opened the door to the car's back seat, gesturing John to get in.

A/N: Hope you liked it – reviews pretty please, they make me happy :-)