As soon as Irene had left the room John launched himself at Sherlock and attacked his mouth feverishly. "You bloody brilliant man. What could I have possibly done to deserve you?" John muttered between kisses, moving to the detective's neck and nibbling his ear lobe gently. Sherlock chuckled and pulled the little man up to meet his lips again.
"Actually, I wanted to ask you if-" Sherlock began, but was cut off by John persistently snogging him, and so he gave into temptation. His son was down for a nap and his daughter had locked herself in her room to read or draw, and so the two men made their way upstairs for the first snatch of alone time they had managed to grab in a good few weeks.
Sherlock sighed happily, running lazy fingers over John's bare chest, and rolled off him slowly. John grinned, turning on his side to stare into the detective's beautiful silver eyes. "I love you" He murmured sleepily, inching forward to kiss Sherlock leisurely, letting his hands wander idly over his husband's pale lithe body.
"I love you too" The detective replied, kissing John's cute button nose with adoration. John rested his palm on Sherlock's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart returning to its usual rhythm once more. It was reassuring, and he spread his fingers over the other man's skin, feeling the heat he radiated beneath his fingertips and the fine sheen of sweat cooling on his body. The detective's breath was coming short and laboured, and he fought to control it after their recent activity.
"You look perfect like this" John mused, sweeping a stray curl from his husband's brow, admiring the blissful smile gracing the other man's lips and the feint blush creeping from his cheeks.
"And you are always so unbelievably sentimental and dopey after sex." Sherlock replied, arching an eyebrow and flinching as John slapped his arse playfully. The contact resounded with a satisfying smacking sound and John laughed, pressing his lips to the detective's shoulder and closing his eyes as Sherlock drew him closer.
"So what was it you wanted to ask me before?" John said, glancing at Sherlock momentarily before burying his face in his husband's neck again.
"Oh that...It was about Irene, I was wondering if I might home-school her. Of course we could both take part in her education." Sherlock ventured. "I just feel that mainstream education would be too much for her, and we could let her be herself without the interferences of the other pupils." John had maintained a meditative silence throughout Sherlock's proposition. "John? I'm sorry; I thought it would help her...forget I said anything."
"OK."
"I just want her to be ha-what?"
"I said OK."
"Really?"
"Yes. I trust you, Sherlock. Strangely what you said actually does make sense."
"Don't sound so surprised."
"Sherlock?"
"Yes?"
"No acid."
"Damn."
"We should probably move soon." Sherlock uttered the words neither of them wanted to hear. John groaned and snuggled into the detective's body sleepily, wrapping his leg around Sherlock's and getting as close to his husband as humanly possible without being inside him. It was still a bit too early for that, and let's face it, they weren't getting any younger.
Sherlock rolled his eyes at his husband, who had suddenly become the human equivalent of a limpet. "You don't want Irene to come looking for us up here do you?" John threw off the covers and leapt out of bed, dragging Sherlock by the hand to the adjoining bathroom in his haste to get them cleaned up and downstairs to resume their parenting duties before such an instance occurred. 'Well' thought Sherlock, 'that was certainly effective'.
John bounded over to the shower and turned it on full blast, letting the steam engulf them as they crowded under the spray. John chucked a bottle of shower gel in Sherlock's general direction when he felt soft long fingered hands kneading his arse, followed by gentle lips kissing the delicate skin at the base of his neck. The doctor turned and looped his arms around the consulting detective, letting the water cascade over their bodies, and kissed him passionately. Sherlock took the shower gel and emptied a puddle of the liquid into his palm, proceeding to rub it over his husband's chest and back in a strange sensual massage. John groaned and pressed against him, lust consuming him.
Sherlock and John wandered downstairs a good twenty minutes later, wearing clean cotton tee shirts and jeans. John had his hand in the detective's back pocket, and Sherlock had looped his arm around the smaller man's waist casually. He could still smell the heady aroma of John's shower gel on his skin and the shampoo lingering in his damp dark blonde, mussed up hair. They entered the living room to find Irene lounged in Sherlock's armchair reading. She looked up when they ambled in, grinning like idiots. "What have you been doing, you're all wet and ...happy" She asked, snapping the book shut and scrutinizing them closely. Sherlock shrugged, leaning down to peck John on the lips as he trotted off to make dinner. He could feel his daughter's gaze, cold and penetrating like his own, tracking him around the room as he sat at the table and opened John's laptop. Sherlock looked up to meet her curious eyes.
"Calorie burning" He replied with a wry smile.
