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WARNING! STEAMY SCENE!

This is the final chapter of 'Holiday Of Sorts', enjoy!

'Do all Spanish menus consist of only fish?'

'What's wrong with fish?'

'Nothing, I'm just not particularly fond of it.'

'You like cod.'

'That's different. Cod has batter and things on it. All the fish here is...naked.'

John sighed. 'Order something else then?'

Sherlock inspected the menu. 'There isn't much else.'

'There's steak.'

'-With a weird sauce on it.'

'It's better than nothing. For once in your life you're actually eating whilst on a case; I'm not letting this one exception slip away because you're a fussy eater.' John said, snapping the menu shut. 'You know, you really could've dried yourself properly.'

Sherlock looked down at the half-damp shirt he was wearing. 'Dull.'

'And also uncomfortable. Don't blame me if you catch a cold.'

'Wouldn't dream of it.'

A waiter who looked a little like a bell strolled up to them. John ordered for both of them and the waiter left again.

'You ordered steak for me.' Sherlock said.

'I know.'

'I didn't necessarily want steak.'

'Well, ha ha. You didn't specify.'

Sherlock grunted and sat back in his seat, drumming his fingers on the table tunelessly. They sat in comfortable silence before the detective brought out his phone. John rolled his eyes. 'Not again.'

'What?'

'You've barely been off your phone all the time we've been in Spain.'

'I have a case; I need to communicate with people.'

'You could not work on it whilst we're eating.'

'We're not eating yet.'

'You know what I mean.' John muttered. He went silent, before smiling to himself. '...This looks like we're on a date again.'

Sherlock glanced up at him for a second and then looked back at his phone. 'Sorry?'

'I was just saying that-' He paused. 'Never mind.'

'No. Do tell.'

'It's just that, I don't know, it looks like we're on a date.'

Sherlock raised his eyebrows for a millisecond. 'Really?'

'Slightly. People will talk.'

Sherlock shrugged. 'They never stop.' John chuckled and looked at his shoes. Sherlock hesitated. '...This isn't a date, is it?'

'No, no, no. Of course not.' John said quickly. Sherlock nodded.

'Good.'

Ouch. John winced slightly. '...But if it-'

The waiter arrived with their meals, placing them in front of them. They both said a quiet "graḉias" as the waiter walked away. They started eating in silence. After a while, Sherlock spoke up. 'Sorry, what were you saying?' He asked, not looking up from his plate.

John shook his head. 'It's not interesting enough for you.'

Sherlock looked up at him. 'How rude.'

John laughed. 'Ha, I was just saying that if...' he swallowed. 'If this was a date-'

'But it's not.'

'I know. But if it was, would you...be okay with it?'

Sherlock calved up more of the steak he was eating. 'I don't know. I don't like speculating things.'

'Right, sorry.' John turned his attention back to his food. Sherlock tilted his head at him.

'Why?'

'Ignore me. Just ignore me.'

'You can't ignore someone who's right in front of you.'

John smiled down at the table. 'You seem to manage fine normally.'

Sherlock blinked at him. 'Do I ignore you?'

'Sometimes.'

'Oh.' Sherlock swallowed down a mushroom.

'Don't worry about it- I'm not offended.'

'I wasn't worried.'

'Right. Okay then.' Sherlocks phone started ringing for the fifth time that evening. He answered it as John sighed loudly. 'God's sake...'

'Hello?' Sherlock said, talking into the phone. He nodded a few times before mouthing "Lestrade" at John. The detective started rattling on about the case to Lestrade before his phone started ringing again. He muttered something about another incoming call and then answered it. He started speaking Spanish to the person at the end of the line, so John can only assume that it was the Spanish police he was talking to. It took another tedious ten minutes before Sherlock put his phone down again. '...Sorry, what were we talking about?'

'The fact that you ignore me.'

'Ah, yes.'

After they had finished eating and paying, Sherlock and John started walking back towards their room. They had nearly reached the elevator, before Sherlock glanced out at the now closed off terrace. He looked back at John. 'Swimming pool's empty.'

John's finger stopped in mid-air, about to call the lift. 'Sorry?' Sherlock repeated himself. 'Of course its empty-it's locked, the blinds are down over the windows, it's late.'

Sherlock smiled. 'Fancy a swim?'

John frowned at him. 'I just said that everything's locked. The staff have all gone as well.'

'Indeed they have.' Sherlock replied simply, walking towards the terrace door and stooping down in front of it. With a shift and a click, the door swung open. John raised his eyebrows as Sherlock stood back up.

'You know how to break locks.'

'Mm.'

John rolled his eyes and followed Sherlock onto the terrace. 'This is ridiculous. We're going to get caught.'

'We'll be fine, come on.' Sherlock kicked off his shoes and socks along with his coat and scarf. He rolled up his trouser legs a little and sat down with his feet dipped into the water. He winced slightly.

John tilted his head at him. 'What's wrong? Is it cold?'

'No, it's fine.'

John sat down, discarded his shoes and socks and rolled up his jeans. He swung his legs over and dangled his feet in the pool. He gasped. 'Oh my God, that's cold!'

Sherlock laughed. 'It could be worse.'

'Liar. It's freezing.'

'Only slightly.'

They both sat in silence, their legs slowly adapting to the cold water.

And then Sherlocks phone rang again. John groaned in frustration as the detective answered it. Once again, he mouthed "Lestrade" before continuing to talk.

That's when John Watson went a bit berserk.

He grabbed the phone off of the detective and stood up, darting towards the edge of the fencing. Sherlocks eyes widened as he ran after him. 'Don't you dare!'

John dared. He tossed the phone in the air and caught it smartly, before throwing it over the fencing, into the open air. And then it just kept going. And going. And going.

Sherlocks mind flashed for a millisecond to wish his phone a new and happy life in California before saying a quiet, 'you threw my phone.'

'I did.'

'You threw. My phone. Over a fence. On a hotels fifth floor.'

'Yup.'

Sherlock paused and then gave a small psychotic laugh. 'I don't think you understand what you've just done.'

'Oh come on. It's not like you haven't got another phone at home.'

Sherlock closed his eyes and then opened them again slowly. 'You ignorant bastard. I need that phone.'

John raised an eyebrow and stepped past him, sitting crossed-legged near the pool. 'Run after it then.'

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and sighed in defeat. 'I hate you,' he said, sitting down next to him, his legs also crossed.

'No you don't.'

'You don't know that.'

'I can guess though.'

Sherlock let the smile creep back across his face. 'Indeed.' He looked at the ground, pursed his lips and then said, 'the thing we were talking about in the restaurant.'

'...What? What thing?'

'The thing about the whole date scenario.'

John looked away. 'Forget it.'

'No, I shall not.'

'It was just a stupid comment which didn't mean anything.'

'It did, though.' Sherlock said. 'I'm just saying that,' he swallowed, 'I wouldn't have minded if it was a date.'

John looked at him. 'Are you trying to seduce me, Mister Holmes?'

Sherlock smirked. 'I don't know. You can decide on that one.' He looked at him up and down through long lashes. 'How long?'

'How long what?'

'How long have you been...fond of me in that sense?'

John's mouth opened slightly. 'How did you know?'

'I notice things, it's my job. Answer the question.'

The doctor breathed out heavily. 'I don't know. A long while, I think. I suppose I started noticing you properly ever since our first case together. After that, things have just progressed in my brain.'

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. 'Ah. That's...quite a while.'

'Yeah.'

'Why didn't you tell me before?'

'Why do you think? You're Sherlock Holmes. You don't do anything.'

'Since when?'

John blinked. 'Since I met you. You said that you don't do relationships.'

'Right.' Sherlock went silent. '...Am I allowed to make an exception?'

John bit his lip and leaned forward. Sherlock went completely still as John stopped inches away from his face. 'Do you trust me, Sherlock?' He murmured.

Sherlock eyes half-closed as he said a quiet, 'what do you think?' before closing the gap between them. Sherlock hadn't kissed anyone before, and he had a feeling John knew. Maybe that was why the doctor was going soft and steady with him; they barely touched apart from the outline of their lips. They parted after a few seconds, foreheads pressed together.

'You okay?' John asked finally. Sherlock looked at him and nodded. 'You sure? It wasn't weird was it?' John pressed.

'Why would it be?'

'I don't know-kissing another man for a start, kissing your best and only friend for another. I mean, that's gotta be a bit weird, isn't it? It's not for me, but-' he was cut off when Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer and kissing him again. Okay, Sherlock was inexperienced; but like John cared. The doctor hesitantly wrapped an arm around his waist to pull him even closer. The dark-haired man responded by slowly running a hand through the other mans hair. He felt himself smiling with immense pride as John let out an "mmm" of satisfaction. The shorter man parted for air for a second before locking lips again with added force, raking a hand through Sherlocks curls. Sherlock sighed and gripped onto John's shirt. 'You alright?' John managed to say.

Sherlock breathed deeply. 'Yes.' He muttered, and grabbed Johns face again, drunk with desire. John breathed deeply and placed a hand on Sherlocks chest, pushing him down gently, slowly, slightly, so that the small of Sherlocks back touched the ground. The doctor dared himself and slipped his tongue out and ran it across Sherlocks teeth, requesting access. Sherlock complied with a moan, opening his mouth slightly. After a while, John parted and panted.

'Fuck, you're good.' The doctor whispered, making Sherlock chuckle breathlessly.

'Thanks.'

They both breathed deeply in silence, looking at each other. After what seemed like an eternity, Sherlock inclined his head and kissed him once again, both hands on either side of Johns face. The detective began rolling over so he could be on top of him, take control.

'No, Sherlock!' John said frantically, arms flailing.

The rest may not be clear to you yet. You may be slightly confused as to why both men suddenly yelled in surprise afterwards. Let's just say-Sherlock forgot that they were next to a pool.