Author's Note:
I am going on vacation on Saturday for a week. Friday will be my last update until I am back home most likely. I just wanted to give you all a heads up. Thank you to everyone for all the lovely reviews! I am glad you all are enjoying this so far!
Sherlock didn't sleep that long, only slightly over an hour. He groaned and shifted a bit, as he slowly came back awake. It was nice, warm and comfortable in his current position. So, he stayed curled against John. Pictures would be taken soon, maybe an hour or two away if he had to guess. He lifted his so he could glance up to see if his husband was awake or not.
"Sometimes in your sleep you mumble and then smile." John smiled softly as Sherlock looked at him. "At one point you even yanked me closer to you." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's forehead, his hand running lightly up and down Sherlock's spine. He hadn't slept at all, too fearful of more nightmares and waking his partner from the quick nap. Instead, he had watched Sherlock sleep, grinning as he would mumble and even chuckling when his husband had tugged him closer. "How did you sleep?"
"So, you have told me before," Sherlock replied with a slight smirk. "Sleep good when next to you," he admitted. "Didn't sleep then?" He sat up in the bed a bit, tilting his head so it could rest against John's and took his husband's hand in his. "Pictures probably won't be for another couple hours, if you wanted to try and sleep a bit."
The offer sounded wonderful and John was exhausted but the idea of sleep shook him to the core. What if he had another nightmare? What if the next one was worse? He met Sherlock's gaze and smiled a bit as he squeezed his husband's hand. "Not tired," he whispered. He would rather stay awake and stare at Sherlock in awe. This man was his husband. He still couldn't believe it.
Sherlock knew better but merely nodded. He couldn't make John sleep, if the other man didn't want to. He returned the squeeze. He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. What did married couples do in the morning? "Well, what do you want to do then? I could give you another tour, show you more of the mansion. Or maybe a proper breakfast?"
"I just want to spend time with you," John replied as he brought Sherlock's hand to his mouth, placing a soft kiss against his knuckles. "Perhaps a tour that ends in a proper breakfast?" Another kiss to his husband's knuckles. Now that John knew he got to wake up every morning with Sherlock he couldn't stop staring at him, touching him. "Is your Mum going to kill us? I think we ruined your pants an hour ago."
"Are you up for it? I shagged you last night, twice." Sherlock grinned proudly. He shrugged a bit. "Maybe. Well, probably. She was looking forward to having photos of everyone all dressed up…" He sighed. "Didn't know it was possible to get off like that, but even if I had I probably would have done it anyway. I seem to have no self control when I am around a certain adorable doctor." He turned his head so he could smirk at John.
"Three times if you count when you still had your pants on." John had been grinning until Sherlock had called him adorable. "Oi," he growled playfully. "I am older than you. Not adorable." He nipped at Sherlock's lower lip and brought his other hand around to rest on the side of his husband's face. His thumb ran across Sherlock's ear slowly. "I liked having you still in your pants," he admitted with a sheepish blush. "It was... good. Really good." He moved to tangle his legs with his husband's, pressing closer to him.
Sherlock only smirked bigger. "Well, if you liked it so much we will have to do it again sometime. Although, we have a tendency to keep trying new things. Which I am more than fine with, keeps it more interesting." He turned his head to suck on his partner's thumb and pressed back into John, an arm wrapping around his husband to draw him into hug.
Was it the fact that they were now married that made Sherlock so much more sexually attractive? John knew he was attracted to his husband but most of the time he could keep it in check, control himself like an adult. But now? Every little thing his husband did turned him on. Talking. Sucking on his thumb. His arm around John's body. Christ, this was getting out of hand. At this rate they were going to shag each other to death. He pressed his erection into Sherlock with a soft moan, pressing his thumb farther into Sherlock's mouth as he lowered his head to lick and suck at his partner's neck. "I just like being with you," he whispered against the other man's skin.
Another go around? It seemed likely at this point. This was what newlyweds did, right? It wasn't like Sherlock minded. If things were like this now, he could only imagine how the honeymoon would be. He tilted his head to give John better access, moaning softly. He moved to straddle his husband again, pressing his lower body into the other man eagerly.
Oh yes, they were going to shag each other to death. John didn't doubt it now. Being married hadn't changed them as people at all. John was still an injured Army doctor and Sherlock was still a cocky consulting detective but, for some reason, John felt the need to constantly touch the other man. This was perfect, really. "How long until pictures?" He gasped as he spoke, arching into Sherlock's movements with a loud moan, biting down on a tendon in his husband's neck.
"Hour, maybe two hours tops. Are you ready to do this again? How is your shoulder?" Sherlock managed to ask, despite the itching desire to keep going. He growled loudly from the bite on his neck, fingers digging deeply into the sheets below them. He continued to squirm into John anyway, one hand moving to scratch at his husband's good arm.
Sherlock was on top of him, practically shagging him, and he was worried about John's shoulder? Oh. Shit. His shoulder. John hadn't even thought about it until his husband had mentioned it and... it really hurt. John frantically shook his head and pressed his hips up again. "Fine. 'S fine," he whimpered at the pleasure that shot through his body, drowning out the pain. While his shoulder wasn't the main focus of John's problems right now, getting shagged again was. "Love you," he whispered and shifted to meet Sherlock's lips. "But you can't' shag me again. Too sore."
As much as Sherlock didn't want to, he moved off John and laid down next to him once more. "We should wait…the point of pushing the honeymoon back was so you could heal. That isn't going to happen if we keep doing this." He leaned over and kissed his husband's forehead. "We should probably get cleaned up soon anyway."
No. No. John clenched a hand in the sheets to try and calm himself down, swallowing hard and slamming his eyes shut. He just wanted to make love to his husband and because of some blasted idiot in Afghanistan he couldn't. Bloody wonderful. "I don't think your pants can be cleaned up," he said through clenched teeth, smiling slightly and turned to look at his husband. How was he supposed to get rid of his erection? If Nancy wanted pictures then John had a serious problem on his hands. Then again, so did Sherlock. "I really just want to shag you until we both have heart attacks," he whispered as he shifted and met his husband's lips.
Sherlock smirked a bit. "I know, but we we are supposed to take it easy. Remember? This hardly qualifies. Do you want me to at least give you hand job?" Without waiting for an answer, he shifted so he was down by John's hips. His fingers trailed along his husband's inner thigh lightly. He brought his other hand over and he caressed his partner's cock, giving it a gentle squeeze.
John arched instantly into the touch, gasping and moving a hand to tangle in Sherlock's hair. After the past day they had, he was sensitive. Just Sherlock's hand made him shake with desire. "T-This okay for you?" He asked with a small moan, his hips pressing forward into his husband's hand. He swallowed hard and tightened his hand in his partner's hair.
"It is fine my dear doctor," Sherlock replied with yet another smirk. He began a steady rhythm on John's cock, the speed increasing with each stroke. His other hand continued to trace along his husband's inner thigh lightly. He smirked a bit bigger and he decided to move his head down and began sucking in time with his pumping hand.
"Oh, God." John tensed as he struggled to keep his hips still, not being able to stop a few small thrusts into his husband's mouth. The light touch on the inside of his thigh wasn't helping much. His other hand moved to scratch at Sherlock's shoulder blade, his fingernails digging into his husband's skin as he came suddenly. A loud shout ripped from his chest as he collapsed against the mattress. "Sherlo-" He took a deep breath. "Want me to return the favor?" John lifted his head lazily, raising a brow as he studied his husband.
Sherlock managed not to gag from John thrusting into his mouth and it took him a moment to swallow everything. Once he did, he removed his mouth and wiped his hand across his face with the back of his hand. "Only if you are up to it." He moved back up to snuggle into his husband's side yet again.
Of course he was up to it. His husband just gave him a wonderful blow job, how could John not return the favor. He gently let his husband's lips and moaned at the taste of himself on Sherlock's tongue, pulling away to travel swiftly down his partner's body to take his cock into his mouth. He worked his mouth slowly, humming for a moment before bobbing his head several times. One hand moved under Sherlock, a finger entering his husband as his other hand massaged his hip bone.
Sherlock couldn't help the loud moan that came from his lip, his eyes closing immediately. He fought the urge not to move the wonderful movements of John's mouth and fingers. One hand sought for purchase in the sheets, curling tightly until his knuckles turned white. His other hand groped around blindly until it found his husband's head, fingers scratching through the hair.
John moaned around his husband's cock, working his finger in and out of his husband. His mouth continued the slow pace, sucking a bit harder as he glanced up at his husband. It was clear that Sherlock was struggling not to move. John wanted to change that. He owed the other man after practically fucking his mouth during their previous blow jobs. He pulled his mouth up slowly, keeping the tip of Sherlock's penis in his mouth and smirking. It was a dare, really, to make Sherlock move.
One eye cracked open as he whimpered in desire. Sherlock tilted his head down to look at John curiously. The waiting was torturous and when he couldn't stand it any longer he thrust into his husband's mouth with a moan. He tried not to set a frantic pace, fingers wrapping the sheets around his knuckles repeatedly to help keep restraint.
John exhaled loudly through his nose, hollowing out his cheeks with a soft moan. He kept his mouth where it had been and used his hand to lift Sherlock's hips up, dropping them and following his husband's cock eagerly. God, this was perfect. He hummed and brought his hand up to tangle with Sherlock's.
Good God. This was wondrous. Sherlock continued to thrust into John's mouth, managing to keep a steady tempo despite his excitement. He moaned, the rest of his body twisting in fervor. This was quite possibly the best blow job he had ever received. A few fingers managed to find their way the sheets and cling to his husband's hand. After a few more thrusts, he came with a loud moan of pleasure. He took in deep breaths of air, as his body relaxed.
John pulled away with a small cough, some of Sherlock's semen falling on to the sheets as he struggled to swallow it all. Well, his husband had certainly enjoyed that. He smirked proudly and crawled up the bed. "Glad you liked that," he said softly as he collapsed next to his husband, laying on his stomach and grinning foolishly at Sherlock as he licked his lips.
Sherlock reached over and began running his hand through John's hair. "The term 'like' doesn't begin to describe how much I enjoyed that. Not sure there are adequate words." He gave a slight smirk and then shrugged. "You know, I think I might have an extra pair of pants in my old bedroom. From back when I took dancing lessons. Weight wise I am about the same but I might be too tall now…"
"You are not wearing pants that are too short for you," John whispered as his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of his husband's fingers in his hair. "I am fairly sure your Mum has a second pair for you. She had to have planned ahead." He lifted his head and turned it, placing a soft kiss on the inside of his husband's palm. "Mental note: I will definitely be doing that to you again."
Sherlock nodded a bit. "If Mummy didn't, then Mycroft probably did." He continued to run his fingers through John's hair. A sensation he was sure he would never tire of. He smirked at his husband's last comment. "Oh God yes." He wanted to just stay in bed with his partner all day but that wasn't really a viable option, since they were expected for post wedding functions. "Well, perhaps we should get ready. Don't want to keep Mum waiting now do we?"
John didn't want to get up ever. He wanted to stay right here with Sherlock in bed for the rest of his life. "I guess," he whispered softly, smirking at the mess they had made all over the bed. Thank the Lord they didn't have to pick this up. "Make sure you pack up that lube," he muttered as he rolled on to his back and slowly sat up. "We need to keep that stuff. Worked wonders." He slid out of the bed with a small groan, walking a bit funny as he picked up a fresh pair of boxers that had been left on the dresser.
Sherlock had to search a bit to find the scattered pieces of clothes. He carried them into the bathroom connected to the room. He flicked on the light and took the time to shave his slightly scruffy face. In the mirror's reflection he saw pants hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Fantastic. Apparently they had a notorious sexual reputation and he was okay with that. He got dressed, fumbling over the infernal tie.
John dressed slowly, moving into the bathroom with his pants on but his shirt hanging from his shoulders, unbuttoned. "C'mere," he whispered, placing a quick peck to his husband's lips as he grabbed Sherlock's tie and slowly started tying it. "Told you they would be prepared." His eyes darted down to Sherlock's new pants as he finished the tie, straightening it. Should he be worried that somebody had known to get Sherlock a second pair of pants? Especially because it was just Sherlock, and not him? He swallowed hard and turned to the mirror, buttoning his shirt slowly with a small wince at each movement that jarred his shoulder.
Sherlock dropped his hands with a frustrated sigh and let John fix the damn tie. He had never bothered to learn how tie them properly because up until recently he had successfully avoided ever having to wear them. "Here, my turn to help you." He reached up and gently moved his husband's hands out of the way and then began buttoning the shirt.
John smirked slightly and let his hands drop to his side, looking up at Sherlock as he finished buttoning the shirt. "You are very cute when you're frustrated," he muttered as he leaned forward and placed a kiss on the tip of his husband's nose. "Even more cute when you're so determined, like right now." He pulled away when the shirt was buttoned, moving into the bedroom and picking up his vest. He slipped it on easily, buttoning with a stubborn look, managed to get his tie down, and slipped on the white jacket. "Still don't see why I'm wearing white." He glanced at his husband as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Now get over here and make out with me for a few minutes."
"I am very cute no matter what I do," Sherlock replied with a smug smirk. He walked back into the bedroom, buttoning the cuffs into place. "You are wearing white because you are the adorable one." The smirk returned as he sat down next to John. "You think after today, we can just stop at making out? We have kind been on a roll. Not that I'm complaining."
Oh great, the adorable argument that everybody made. John didn't see it. All he saw in the mirror was a thirty-nine year old man that had been torn down by the Army. That was the farthest from adorable that anybody could get, really. "Probably not. I can't keep my hands off you, Sherlock. I can make an exception because we are all dressed up now." He shifted and threw his leg over his husband's lap, straddling him as he gently met his lips. "You can never stop, either," he whispered against the other man's lips as his tongue darted out playfully.
"I can stop if I want to," Sherlock retorted. Although, even he wasn't sure how entirely accurate that statement was. He supposed at times he had but most to the time he hadn't had that kind of will power. He was about to kiss John when there was a knock at the door.
Charlie's voice came from on the other side of the door. "Young Master Holmes. Captain Watson. Lady Holmes and Master Mycroft are waiting for you downstairs. They request your presence for the photographer."
John lifted his head with a small, jealous growl. He didn't want to share Sherlock today. Not with Nancy or Mycroft or some bloody photographer. He stood slowly, still glaring at the door, as he adjusted and straightened his tuxedo. "Sod the photographs," he muttered a bit unhappily as he turned his gaze back to his husband. "Why do we even need wedding photos? We were there, we knew it happened. Why pictures?"
"Mum wants them. She paid for the photographer and the wedding. Our honeymoon too. Come on. Best to just get it over with. There is a family brunch afterwards too, I believe. You, me, Mum, Mycroft, Harry, Mrs. Hudson, probably Lestrade and of course little Sandi." Sherlock got up off the bed and put a reassuring hand on John's good shoulder.
Amy. Christ, he hadn't seen his little girl in over a day now. That made him relax slightly and a small smile tugged at his lips. "Alright," he whispered as he moved to laced his fingers with Sherlock's hand. He tugged his husband from the room, through the hall, but froze the moment he saw Mycroft and Nancy.
"Finally decide to stop shagging each other?" Mycroft muttered with a knowing smirk. "Honestly, Captain Watson, I heard you on the other side of the manor." He nicked his head slightly to the side and glanced around the parlor with a bored sigh.
Sherlock walked hand in hand with John. He smirked at his older brother. "Mycroft, you are just jealous Lestrade couldn't keep you up all night.
"Boys!" Nancy scolded. "Honestly, we have guests still. Mycroft, stop instigating."
Sherlock smirked. "Yeah. Stop-"
"Sherlock! Stop being a stubborn brat. Good heavens, what I am going to do with you two? Do I really need to put you in separate corners?" Nancy shook her head, clearly exasperated with her two sons.
John glanced between the Holmes brothers with wide eyes, dropping his head as Nancy snapped at them. He squeezed Sherlock's hand. Despite the embarrassing content of the conversation, Sherlock and stood up for him. It was clear only a day after marrying the man that he had made the perfect choice in marrying the man next to him. "Mrs. Holmes, did you have any idea where you wanted to take pictures?" He hesitantly lifted his gaze to look at Nancy.
"Oh, hush, little brother." Mycroft took a step forward. "I cleaned up the ballroom for you so you could go back and shag him. Doesn't seem like too good of a night to me."
"Sherlock, you made your brother pick up after I told you that you and John were to do it? Really…" Nancy shook her head. "Can't you just listen to me for once?" She took a calming breath, as she often did when dealing with her sons. She looked over to John. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Nancy? And yes. Outside. Better lighting and it is actually a nice day out."
Sherlock glared at Mycroft for ratting him out. He bit his lip, to prevent progressing the quarrel because their Mum was already upset and he didn't want to make it worse. His hand involuntarily squeezed John's in his silent seething. Just another day with the family. And they still had brunch to struggle through. Bloody perfect.
Mycroft smirked proudly and moved out the double doors into the backyard, clearly proud of himself.
"S-Sorry." John dropped his gaze. He squeezed the hand back reassuringly. "It was me last night, Mrs. Ho- Nancy. I... distracted Sherlock. I'm sorry." He looked up at her and bit his bottom lip. Christ, the woman was worse than his Mum. Then again, his Mum worked two jobs and was rarely home. This is what it must have been like to actually have a Mum. "I can clean up after the brunch, if you would like, ma'am."
"I was finishing it and he offered to do the rest," Sherlock muttered as Mycroft walked out of the room.
Nancy shook her head at John. "It's fine dear. The boys are just fighting for my attention like usual." She followed after her eldest son.
"This is pretty much a normal day for the Holmes household," Sherlock commented to John. He wasn't looking forward to the rest of the day at all and just wanted to go back to their flat and be left alone in peace.
John looked up at his husband. Had he just gotten the other man in trouble. "I'm sorry... I didn't think..." He tugged at Sherlock's hand without finishing the sentence, following Nancy outside with a small frown. What the Hell were they supposed to even be doing in these pictures? Smiling and looking happy? Because after what had just happened, John was fairly sure Sherlock wanted to punch Mycroft in the face.
"Mum, I was thinking by the fountain," Mycroft commented with a small smile. "Over by those cherry blossoms. If we could get them smiling and ignoring the camera, the pictures would look wonderful."
Sherlock shrugged a bit. "Not your fault Mycroft is a prat." When he passed Mycroft, he made sure to ram his shoulder into his older brother as he went by. "Suck up," he growled between clenched teeth. He put on a fake, tight smile. He just wanted to get these stupid pictures out of the way.
Nancy eyed her two boys. "Honestly, if your father was still alive…" She trailed off and she had to clear her throat to keep her emotions in check.
Mycroft stumbled slightly and shot a glare toward his younger brother. "I want the pictures to look nice," he growled, only stopping at the mention of their father. Too close. His gaze went instantly to their Mum and he seemed to learn his place almost instantly.
John tensed at the mention of Siger, at the obvious show by Nancy to keep herself calm. "I... That sounds wonderful." He looked up at Sherlock and took a deep breath. "If you wouldn't mind, Nancy." He reached out and gently took her hand, squeezing it as he flashed her a warm smile.
Nancy took a moment to compose herself. She was still struggling with everything that had happened, though she tried her best to hide it from her sons. "I just wanted a nice family photo I could put in the sitting room. I wish…your father could…" She trailed off again, clearly fighting for control once more.
Sherlock frowned at the words spoken by their mother, but kept any thoughts he had to himself. Just because he had been over his Old Man's passing didn't mean his mother was. He hadn't really thought about how she was dealing with things. Just a prime example of how much of a selfish child he really was at times. He was at a loss for words, but he was certain Mycroft would say or do something to make everything magically better. He was the perfect son after all, he thought bitterly.
Mycroft looked at Sherlock with wide eyes, hesitating but not moving. What did one do in these situations? He had never seen Mum cry and it looked like it was about to happen.
John glanced between the Holmes brothers before pulling his hand away from Sherlock's and embracing his mother-in-law. "Nancy, it's alright," he whispered as he held her close to him. The other two men clearly weren't able to handle emotions at all, especially from their own Mum. "We can get a really nice photo, just the three of you, yeah? I am sure it will look just as nice." He placed a soothing kiss on her temple, one hand rubbing up and down her back in an attempt to calm her down. "Maybe one with me and Lestrade in it? All of your happy sons?"
Nancy returned John's hug and nodded into his shoulder. She refused to cry again. Especially not while her boys were present. "That would be good. Yes. Perhaps a picture of you and Sherlock with Amy as well. And then all of us together. Yes." She released her son-in-law, finally back in control. "Everyone in place for the first picture. Boys, over here with me by the fountain."
Sherlock watched John console his mother with seemingly effortless ease. He didn't argue when he was beckoned, merely moved over to his Mum immediately.
Mycroft followed his Mum but kept his eyes locked on John in awe and jealousy. It had been so effortless for the other man to comfort his Mum and he had stood around and done nothing. Wonderful. Now he looked horrible. He situated himself behind Nancy and looked over at Sherlock.
John watched with a small smile as the three of them moved to the fountain, glancing around the backyard with a small sigh. There. Easy enough fix, really. Considering he would be dealing with a teenage girl in a few years he figured he had done quite a good job. He grinned at Sherlock, his heart jumping into his throat at the sight of his husband in his tuxedo, looking particularly handsome in the sunlight.
At least someone here was emotionally equipped to help soothe their Mum, because Sherlock and Mycroft were sorely lacking in that area. He saw John grin and he couldn't help but smile back.
Nancy stood between her sons and smiled for the camera. "Okay, now Sherlock and Mycroft behave for a bit. I want a picture of you two, then you two with John, then Sherlock and John. And then the happy couple with Amy. Oh! And me with Amy!" Just talking about who went where in what photo made her brighten. It was often she got pictures of her family all dressed up. Only once before, but that'd been about twenty years ago.