Author's Note:

Another chapter. Wanted to get it posted before I went into work today. Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews!

John followed after his husband and grabbed his own towel, dropping it on the floor of the bedroom as he moved to the dresser and looked around. Sherlock was dressing nice. Of course he was. The man only owned nice clothes. John bit his bottom lips and grabbed a short-sleeve, button up shirt, slipping it over his shoulders. He grabbed a pair of old jeans and slipped them on before glancing at his husband. "I am going to buy you a new outfit," he muttered. "Of not dress-up clothes."

Sherlock frowned a bit in confusion as he turned to look at John. "Why?" He liked the clothes he owned. Dressing nice was the Holmes way. It was weird to think about wearing anything else. He finished putting on his clothes and then his shoes. It was strange enough not to have his coat and scarf to wear, but they weren't needed in this climate. He strapped his watch to his wrist and grabbed his wallet.

John watched his husband with a smile. "Because I wouldn't mind seeing you in jeans," he stated softly as he grabbed his mobile and his own wallet. "And you have got wonderful arms," he whispered as he moved to wrap his husband's arms around his waist. "And I want the world to know what is all mine." He grinned and gently met Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He leaned back into John's body, his hands resting upon his husband's. "Just want to show me off, huh?" He smirked. "Not that I blame you since I am so amazing and perfect." The smirk got bigger, squeezing one of John's hand lightly.

John returned the squeeze with a roll of his eyes. "Git," he muttered into Sherlock's back with a small laugh. He was nervous about telling his husband that. Asking him to eat and sleep had led to a month of Hell for them both. This was pretty drastic. "Just... one outfit, yeah? If you really hate it then I won't force it on you, promise." He closed his eyes.

"I am old enough to pick out my own clothes you know," Sherlock replied with a feigned upset tone. He squeezed John's hand one more time before pulling away from his husband and turning around to face the other man. "Come on then my dear doctor, let's go make me do more domestic things like shopping." He smirked as he grabbed John's hand and led his husband out of the bedroom and then out of the house.

John laughed and squeezed his husband's hand. "You have wonderful taste in clothes and, yes, you are old enough to buy your own clothes but... humor me," he said with a small smile. It wasn't often Sherlock would actually agree to these little things that made him happy so he was going to take advantage of it. "Hell, I won't even buy them if you just put some jeans and a t-shirt and I get to look at you," his voice trailed off as they entered the tiny village and he took the time to glance around with his mouth slightly open.

Sherlock smirked a bit at John. "Since you are the shopping expert, I will just follow you around to wherever. Just so long as we don't have to stop at every shop to try something on?" He really didn't want to do the latter. That would end up being too much for him. "Unless there is something else you want to do first?"

"Shag you," John commented softly before tugging his husband toward a rather nice looking store. "Here. We will look in this store." He tugged Sherlock in the door and smiled a bit. It was simple. Clothes like Sherlock's mixed with jeans and shirts that cost more than his entire wardrobe. "Want to try some if I pick them out? Then we can shag in the changing room because you will be so damn attractive?"

Sherlock smirked a bit. "That is fine. I look damn attractive in anything or nothing for that matter." The smirk got bigger for a moment before he gave a slight shrug. "I am not sure how effective I will be shagging but that doesn't mean we can't try." A retail clerk came up to them and he dismissed the clerk in Italian.

"Snog, I don't care." John said with a laugh, glancing at the clerk. "Right." He pulled away from his husband and quickly grabbed a shirt. It was simple, gray, and extremely soft. "This," he muttered to himself before standing on his toes to survey the rest of the store. Jeans. Dark, John decided. Anything he picked up would probably look marvelous on his husband. "Do you know what size you are?" He turned back to his husband with a raised brow.

Sherlock smirked at John again. He took the shirt and looked it briefly before glancing up at his husband. He shook his head and he hesitated before replying. "Mummy has always bought my clothes," he admitted, cleared his throat, and then looked back down to the grey shirt he was holding.

"It is fine." John smiled at Sherlock and hesitated slightly. "Like that shirt? It's simple. Looks really nice, I think." He approached his husband and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "It will look good on you." He pulled away and moved to the jeans. It was too difficult to guess what pair his husband would need. He grabbed the slimmest pair, dark and faded at the thighs a bit. Perfect. "Like these?"

Sherlock shrugged. To him it was just a shirt. Not something he would usually wear, so he was more or less impartial to it. "It looks fine." He looked at the jeans and nodded. He actually did like those. Dark pants had always suited him. "They look like they will fit too." He leaned in close to John with a smirk. "Do you join me in the dressing room before or after I change?"

John blushed and glanced around the store. It was a rather simple answer, really. "I go in with you," John muttered, glancing up at his husband with a proud, confident smile. "You know, help you get them on." He snatched the shirt away from his husband, held on to the jeans and moved toward the dressing rooms. The young man working them gave them a small card to slip on the door and he pulled Sherlock in with him. "Here." He hung the clothes up on the wall and started unbuttoning his husband's shirt.

Sherlock smirked as he followed after John. Once they were in the dressing room he leaned forward to whisper in his husband's ear. "I don't think you have tried to undress me this quickly before." The smirk returned when he pulled his head up to look at John.

John just grunted in reply. Off. Those clothes needed to be off. In their relationship, he was usually shy and was happy to keep his sex life private. But now, in a changing room, John suddenly didn't care. "These clothes will look good on you. Excited to see it," he lied smoothly, placing a kiss on the exposed section of his husband's chest.

Sherlock smirked because he knew better. He put his arms around John, drawing his husband into a hug. He tilted his down to kiss his partner, his tongue taking no time at all to explore the other mouth. Was the honeymoon going to be like these the whole time? Apart of him hoped so, although he wasn't sure if it was physically possible.

John moaned softly into the kiss, his hands freezing on Sherlock's half-unbuttoned shirt. His knees were going to give out. The kiss was wonderful. He pulled away slowly, panting as he looked up at his husband. At this point he was convinced he married a God. "I love you," he whispered as he finished undoing Sherlock's shirt.

Sherlock smirked down at John. "Love you too." He released his husband from the hug, so the other man could continue to undress him. "Might have to let you do this more often." He smirked again as he removed his arms from the sleeves of the shirt.

John laughed and grabbed the gray shirt, pulling it off the hanger and sliding it over Sherlock's head with a smile. Christ, it looked wonderful on him. The man had a glorious body, especially for the amount he didn't actually work out. "God, it brings out your eyes really well. I am buying it and then shagging you in it," he commented softly, moving his hand down slowly the button and zipper of his husband's pants.

Sherlock looked down at the shirt he was now wearing with a raised eyebrow. "Like it that much?" He smirked as he looked up to John. His body reacted immediately to his husband undoing his pants. He couldn't help but press into John with a soft moan. He leaned his head forward and began kissing his husband's neck. Well, it looked like they may shag in the dressing room after all.

The mouth on his neck made John's hands falter, his breath catching in his throat. Shit. This felt wonderful. "Pants aren't even off," he whispered with a small laugh, his hands moving again. He managed to get the button and zipper undone, his hand sliding to cup his husband through his underwear. "God, you feel wonderful," he whispered as he let his head fall back to expose more of his neck.

Sherlock smirked again but continued to kiss John's neck for awhile before he began sucking and biting on it in excitement. "Likewise," he murmured with a slight growl. He pressed into his husband further, so he could back the other man into the dressing room door. His body writhed into John's, the lips on his husband's neck becoming a little more aggressive.

John backed up without hesitation, letting his back press against the door with a low moan. What was it now with his neck? Before Sherlock he didn't enjoy this but now it turned him onto the point of him not being able to control himself. His free hand wrapped around Sherlock's torso, scratching at his back through the shirt. His other hand squeezed his husband's penis through his underwear.

Sherlock put a hand on the door for support, the other hand clawing at John's chest through the shirt. He moaned into his husband's neck from his partner's touch. His body pressed into John's eagerly and to his surprise he was beginning to get an erection. Although his cock wasn't getting hard as quickly as it usually did. He moved his lips up to his husband's ear where he began to nibble lightly and breathe heavily.

It shouldn't surprise him that Sherlock was getting hard. John took a deep breath and pushed back at Sherlock. "Sit," he whispered, pushing his husband toward the small bench in the corner. He couldn't get an erection despite the circumstances. Perhaps he was just a bit too old for that. "Sit," he repeated.

Sherlock continued to nip at John's ear but when he was asked to sit a second time he finally pulled away. He moved backward and sat down as instructed. He wondered what his husband had in mind. Hand job? Blow job? Something else? He was going to be sensitive that much he knew and he doubted he would last long. Just thinking about the possibilities made him squirm.

John dropped to his knees instantly, glancing up at his husband before slightly pulling Sherlock's underwear down. "Sorry," he whispered, tugging Sherlock's cock free and placing a soft kiss on the tip. "Can't get hard. I am a bit older than you." He hollowed his cheeks out and lowered his mouth on his husband's penis slowly.

Sherlock was about to reply but he moaned when he felt his cock in John's mouth. He should probably try to be a bit quieter with people being around. Both hands grabbed the edge of the bench tightly and with restraint he managed not to thrust forward.

John pulled up slowly, exhaling loudly through his nose as he lifted a hand up to move over his husband's mouth. If they got caught they would get arrested. Christ, this shouldn't be as hot as it was. He placed a gentle hand under Sherlock's hip, lifting up slightly with a bit of a smirk.

As soon as John's hand was over his mouth, Sherlock ran his tongue over the palm slowly and deliberately. He bit down on his lip in excitement, his body writhing some. The grip on the bench got tighter, his fingers turning white. Close now. So very close.

John moaned around Sherlock's cock, swallowing hard and pulling his head up slowly again. "Up," he managed to get out, looking up at his husband. He shifted on his knees and used his free hand to lift Sherlock's hips up, his mouth moving down until his nose bumped against his husband's stomach. He gagged slightly and pulled back up, bobbing his head up and down as quick as he could manage. The hand on Sherlock's mouth curled, his fingernails digging into his partner's cheek slightly.

Sherlock complied but he didn't stay standing long as he came and then collapsed back down into the bench. Although no real work had been done his part, it had left him feeling tired and breathing deeply. He probably should have turned down the blowjob but it had been so wonderful, saying no hadn't even occurred to him. He leaned his against the wall, eyes closing as he tried to breathe quietly.

John swallowed with practiced ease, pulling away with a small gasp and letting his hands drop to Sherlock's thighs. "Sorry," he whispered as he finally managed to take a deep breath. "Couldn't help myself. Oh, God." He dropped his head on to his husband's thigh with a small laugh. "That was good."

"It is fine." Sherlock smiled and brought up a hand to run it through John's hair. "You just want to wear me out so I will sleep tonight." His smile quirked into a smirk, his fingers scratching lightly against his husband's scalp. "Like the jeans," he admitted. "I should make sure they fit first though." However, he didn't bother to get up.

"You figured out my evil plan," John said with a soft smile. He should have moved to put the jeans on his husband but the feeling of Sherlock's fingers scratching at his scalp felt too amazing. "God, you have exhausted me. Not even that made me hard." He laughed softly as he shifted and grabbed the jeans. "Do you like the shirt?"

Sherlock smirked a bit. "It is because you are an old man already." His fingers continued to scratch John's head. He gave a slight shrug at the question. "It is okay. I don't hate it. Just another shirt to me." He really didn't feel like getting up but the retail clerk might get suspicious if they stayed in the dressing room any longer. He got up slowly, reached over and grabbed the jeans. He pulled them on. They fit perfectly. Apparently John had a good eye for that kind of thing. "Maybe you should have been a tailor." He smirked over to his husband.

John stood slowly, choosing to ignore the old man comment and instead studying his husband in casual clothing. "I like it," he muttered, admiring the jeans. "I will buy the outfit for you," he stated softly. "If you want. I... like it a lot." He licked his lips and shifted on his feet nervously. He didn't want to force anything on Sherlock but, Christ, he looked wonderful.

"It is fine. Don't be so nervous my dear doctor." Sherlock smiled as he changed back into his clothes. He gave the outfit to John and then walked out of the dressing room. He walked to the counter where customers paid, while he waited for his husband to make the purchase. Finding the clothes had gone by much faster than he anticipated and he wondered what they would do next. Was this what ordinary people did on a daily basis?

John followed after his husband with a small smile, pulling out his card and sliding it through the machine. After a few moments of waiting the machine beeped. Declined. Oh, shit. He cleared his throat and slid his card again. Another beep. Wonderful. "I, um, sorry. I should have-" He glanced at Sherlock and dropped his gaze to the floor.

Should he offer to pay for it or would it just make John feel worse? Sherlock got an idea and turned to face his husband. "Sorry about that, I gave you the wrong card. Here." He opened his wallet and offered the credit card his mother had given him before they had left on their honeymoon. Hopefully by trying to pass it off as a mistake, it would be less awkward for John.

John glanced down at the card for a moment before grabbing it and smiling slightly. "Just like you, forgetting things." He stood on his toes and placed a soft kiss on his husband's cheek. He turned and ran the card through the machine, smiling when it was accepted and the cashier started to put the clothes in a bag. Still embarrassing. Couldn't even afford a nice outfit for Sherlock.

Sherlock made a scoffing noise but managed a smirk. "Yes, sorry about that darling. You know me and my terrible forgetful mind. You had better hold onto the card, so I don't forget again." The smirk grew marginally as he grabbed John's hand and lead him back out into the village. "What now my dear doctor?"

John pocketed the card slowly and squeezed Sherlock's hand. "Sorry," he whispered softly. "Just wanted to get you something nice." He glanced around the village for a moment. "We could... Wine? I have never been to a wine tasting."

Sherlock returned the squeeze. "It is fine. You should save your money. Mummy would have a fit anyway, if she knew you spent any of your money. You don't want to upset my mother, now do you?" He turned and smirked at his husband. "Wine tasting? Sure. I am sure they have a vineyard or maybe a distillery around here somewhere."

John glanced around. "There?" He pointed to a small path that led up a hill and into a rather large building. "Are you losing your touch, detective?" He smirked at his husband. "Wine tasting. Romantic. Look at us, a regular couple, honey." He tugged Sherlock toward the building.

Sherlock huffed. "I saw it…" He muttered as he trailed after John. "Yes. Look at me being domestic, dear." He looked around as they entered the building. The smell was what he noticed the most. It was sweet. He glanced to the man who approached them and he had a brief conversation in Italian. "Come on." This time he tugged John with him as he followed after the owner.

Wow. This place was a bit fancier than he had thought. John froze for a moment and stumbled forward when Sherlock tugged him. Right. Wine tasting. Because his husband was perfect and knew every language. Of course he would know how to get everything put together. "Oh, sweetheart, you woo me with your words." He let his eyes glance at Sherlock as they walked, entering a large open room with a several long tables.

Sherlock smirked. "Right well babe, you know me. My words are perfect and laced with silver." Christ, what the hell did that mean? He was pretty sure it didn't mean anything, but it had sounded good at the time. The owner looked back at the couple and began speaking quickly but Sherlock managed to keep up. He replied, gave the man some money, and the owner left. "He will be right back." He had given more than enough money to cover anything they may try while here. "He is also willing to give us a tour, private if you want. See how everything is made." He smirked smugly.

John laughed and stood on his toes to place a soft kiss on his husband's lips. "Fine with me. Whatever you want," he stated as he glanced around the room. The amount of money Sherlock handed the man was astonishing, really. They probably could have bought the place. "What is he doing, then?" John asked curiously. "Love."

"He is going to bring us a tray of a variety of wines for us to try, obviously, sugar plum." Sherlock managed to keep a straight face when he spoke. He was running out of cheesy terms of endearments. Maybe he would just start making things up. He was determined to win this little game they had apparently started. "We don't have to take the tour if you don't want to. The owner merely offered it."

"Cupcake, that sounds lovely to me. Did you save his life once?" John asked with a laugh as he looked around the open room again. "Tour. Wine. I don't care." He bit his bottom lip and shrugged. "Being with you is enough." Cheesy. Oh well, it was true. They could be sitting in a cardboard box for all he cared. If Sherlock was at his side he was happy.

"Okay sweetie." Did that count since John already used 'sweetheart' earlier? Sherlock was about to say more but the owner returned with a tray full of wine glasses. There was some deep red, others were champagne white and wide range in between. He wondered how the man managed to balance so many glasses without spilling a drop. He thanked the owner as he took two glasses. "Here sugar pie," he said as he offered a glass to John. Hah. Two terms of endearment. He was definitely going to win this little game, he was certain.

"Thank you, pooh bear," John smirked and grabbed the glass from his husband. So many glasses. And then an odd brown container between them. He decided to not ask questions and took a large gulp of the red wine in his glass, swallowing it with a small smile. "Sweet. I like it." He took another large sip and nodded. "Angel, what do you think?" Nailed it. He was winning this.

The owner's eyes went wide and the man began talking animatedly to John. Sherlock smiled and managed to smooth things over. "Lover boy, you are supposed to taste the wine not chug it. Like so." He swirled the contents, sniffed it, took a sip and spit out. "See? If you drank all the wine offered you will just get drunk. So do try to take it easy there dumpling."

John was too focused on Sherlock and their silly little game to listen to what his husband had said. He had seen Sherlock spit the wine out. Must not have liked it. C'mon, Watson. Think. He turned away from the owner and finished his glass, picking up another one. "Baby cakes, I liked the last one." He took a sip of the new glass, a white wine. Tart. He swallowed it with a small sound of appreciation. "Sex God, can we buy a bottle if we really like one?" Another gulp from his glass.

Mortification would best describe the look on the Italian's face as the man watched John drink the wine. "Tootsie roll," Sherlock paused, wasn't that a candy? "At this point I am sure Arnaldo here would let us take a bottle just so you will stop downing all the wine like a drunkard teddy bear. I don't think a tour would be advisable at this rate pootsky." Okay, now he was just making things up. However, he had up the ante up to three names now.

They were at a wine tasting. That was what John was doing. He finished his second glass and glanced at his husband with a confused expression. This wasn't make any sense at all. "Sherly." He took a deep breath. That wine was a bit more powerful than he was used to. "What in the world are you talking about? I am tasting the wine, honey bee." God, was he already drunk? That one was horrible. He licked his lips. His cheeks were flushed and he suddenly couldn't keep a stupid smile off of his lips. "Boo, this was a good idea." He grabbed the glass from Sherlock's hand and finished it off in one gulp.

Sherlock apologized repeatedly to the Italian man, who was growing increasingly upset. "Johnny, no more wine for you. Adorable little you certainly doesn't need to buy a bottle either. Besides, there is wine back at the beach house if you are really set on getting soused, we can do it back there so I don't have to carry you, my lovely."

John leaned forward against his husband, burying his face into Sherlock's chest with a small hiccup. "Smell good." He licked his lips and pressed further into Sherlock. "Can I have some more?" He looked up at Sherlock with a lop-sided smile, a hand moving down to tug at the waistband of his husband's pants. "Want you," he slurred, reaching for another glass of wine. He really liked wine tasting.

Sherlock took a step back, but he had his arms and hands ready to catch John should his husband fall forward. "John," he used a sharp tone to try and get his partner's attention. "No more. Come on I will help you back." He apologized in Italian once more. "Let's go my dear doctor. If you really want more wine, we can get you some back at the beach house." He decided to ignore his husband's last comment.

Sherlock's sharp tone made John's hand drop quickly to his side. His husband sounded upset. "Sorry." He glanced at the glasses of wine before taking a step forward, tripping slightly and falling against his husband. That wine was strong. Why didn't anybody tell him? Had he missed it? Shit, he should have been paying attention. "Think 'm drunk," he muttered into Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock supported John easily and he helped his husband to stand straight. His tone softened when he spoke again. "It is fine, but we should go now my dear doctor." He linked their arms together to help support his partner as he began steering them out of the building. He tried to keep John as steady as he could as they walked down the streets of the village.

Focus. John walked the best he could, clinging tightly to Sherlock's arm. He had just ruined the day, he was sure. That wasn't very good. When they entered the beach house he slumped heavily against his husband. "Want you," he repeated softly, standing on his toes to place several soft kisses on the side of Sherlock's neck.

"Not when you are drunk," Sherlock replied firmly. He guided John to the bedroom and onto the bed. Maybe his husband would be able to sleep this off. He sat down on the edge of the bed and turned so he could watch John. It was a bit disappointing to see his husband like this but not surprising. It wasn't the first time John had gotten drunk since being together. Although, last time had been because of a fight. This time was different. His husband couldn't hold his liquor apparently, which he did find surprising.

John rested on his back and studied Sherlock, boldly meeting his gaze. "Then 'm not drunk." He reached out and tugged at the waistband of his husband's pants. Not thinking straight. He really just wanted Sherlock inside him. Rough. Hard. In the haze that had become his mind he slowly decided that he was never drinking wine again.

Sherlock sighed and shook his head. "John. No." He got up off the bed, but stood near it as he looked down at his husband with a frown. He thought about leaving the bedroom but he didn't want to leave John alone. He was worried if he did leave his husband could potentially and inadvertently get hurt.

John watched Sherlock stand and shifted slightly on the bed. "Okay," he muttered as his eyes slowly closed. "Your loss," he slurred out as he sat up. Shoes. His fingers fumbled as he attempted to untie his shoes, his torso swaying back and forth as he did.

The frown on his face deepened as Sherlock continued to watch John. He finally moved back over to his husband to help the other man with the shoes. "Here, let me." He moved John's hands out of the way and began untying and pulling the shoes off.

John watched Sherlock and took a deep breath. "'M sorry," he mumbled. It had only taken two and a half hours for him to ruin the day. He had enough of his mind in tact right now to feel bad. "I love you." He swallowed hard. Maybe it was time to talk to Sherlock about things. About his problems. "Can we talk when 'm not drunk?" He asked softy.

Once the shoes were off Sherlock turned to look at John and study his husband thoughtfully for a moment. Talk? Had he done something wrong again? Doubt was not something he was used to and he didn't like this feeling that had come about since being with John. Maybe his husband would forget about it when he sobered up. "Yeah sure," he agreed anyway. He had told John he would work on this whole communication thing, but now he wondered if it was something he was going to come to regret.

Maybe he should just tell Sherlock now while liquid courage was rushing through his veins. "I had a drinking problem," John blurted out, watching his husband as carefully as a drunk man could. "After my second tour in Iraq. I came back and was alone so I blew my paychecks at the pub." He hiccuped slightly. "I was drunk every night. Don't know how I made it home sometimes. Would wake up with random women in my bed." He closed his eyes and swallowed. The room was spinning. God, he didn't feel good. "'m sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know." He reached out blindly for his husband.

Oh. Was it wrong he felt relieved? Probably. He couldn't seem to get anything else about married life right. It made even more sense why John hadn't wanted to stay with Harry after coming back from Afghanistan. Sherlock sat back down on the bed and took his husband's seeking hand and gave it gentle reassuring squeeze. "John I am a megalomaniac with a drug addiction problem. Trust me when I say it's fine." He gave his husband a slight smirk.

John giggled and tugged at Sherlock's arm. "Wanna snuggle against you. C'mere." He squirmed slightly on the bed. They would probably talk about it more when he was sober. If Sherlock wouldn't shag him then he was going to snuggle the Hell out of him. "Still want you," he muttered. He didn't care if it was selfish.

Sherlock moved up the bed and snuggled into John a bit. He didn't get as close as usual because his husband's breath smelled of alcohol. "I am not going to shag you while you are drunk. Maybe that will give you incentive not to drink so much next time." He smirked faintly at John once more.

John narrowed his eyes slightly. "No," he stated simply and shifted down the bed, curling himself into his husband's side and burying his face against Sherlock's ribs. "Why?" He asked, whining slightly as he nipped at Sherlock's ribs through his shirt. "Is good when you are drunk," he muttered.

Sherlock sighed. "John, stop it." He was beginning to get irritated with his husband now and his voice conveyed the agitation. He sat up and got off the bed. "Just sleep of off," he muttered. Cigarettes sounded wonderful now. He was getting stressed out by the situation and nothing calmed him down like a good smoke.

"Fine," John growled and yanked roughly at the blankets to cover himself. "You are a horrible shag anyway," he muttered like a child. It was clear that John being drunk led him to act like a five year old. He rolled so his back was facing Sherlock. "Night," he snapped as he curled into himself and closed his eyes.

Sherlock frowned at John's back. His husband was drunk; no point in taking stock in what was said. He left the bedroom and walked into the kitchen. He wished he had brought his violin, or even a pack of cigarettes to help calm his fraying nerves. He didn't know what to do with himself, so he just sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh.