Author's Note:

Four chapters left! Getting excited now! Thanks to all those of you taking the time to review!


John followed his husband with a smile, his eyes slipping closed as he relaxed. "Giving you blow jobs is my favorite things," he said softly, burying his face into his husband's hair. Did he really just say that? Good Lord, he needed to put a filter on his mouth. "I'm...sorry. That was...sorry."

Sherlock smirked and kissed the shoulder his head was nuzzled into. "Why ever for my dear doctor? You are fine." He kissed his husband's shoulder again in reassurance. Did he have a favorite thing to do for John? He had never really thought about it before. He did enjoy marking his husband but that was more for him than John.

"Because I should keep some things to myself," John laughed softly and took a deep breath. "But it is true. You are so expressive and now that you talk I just...it is wonderful." There. So he had told Sherlock that and there was no going back. His husband should know all of the things he enjoyed. Not all communication had to be about negative things.

Sherlock smirked again. "Well, I didn't know how amazing talking and making noise was before. I was obviously missing out." He shrugged a bit. "And you always like it, so definitely worth it." He was quiet a moment. "I like the smile you get when I tell you 'I love you' first," he admitted quietly.

For a moment John was fairly sure his heart stopped because that was something more personal than giving blow jobs. He couldn't even speak. God, that was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard. He looked down at Sherlock was a small smile, eyes wide as he tried to focus. "I love you," he finally whispered.

This was one of those instances where Sherlock couldn't gauge what he had said had been well or ill received. "I love you too." He was quiet for a bit before he looked up at John. "That was okay then? I…never know if I say the right things sometimes." He felt stupid for the admission but it was true. Sometimes what he said was good, fantastic even and other times a fight would erupt.

"Fantastic. It was fantastic," John whispered with a smile and a soft laugh. "You always say you don't know what to say but you always say the right thing. It is always good." He met his husband's lips again. Despite what had happened to them, almost drowning and being exhausted, he was glad they were forced to stay in bed together. "You can act a bit more confident because you are figuring out this relationship thing."

Good. Sherlock relaxed back down against his husband's shoulder. "Are you sure you want me to do that? I am pretty cocky and confident about everything else already." He smirked up at John. "Then again, I'm perfect and amazing so it would only be natural I would perfect the art of being in a relationship."

"Hush," John said with a laugh, playfully pushing at his husband's chest. "I do want that, though. I want to see you approach our relationship with the same confidence that you use approaching a crime scene. I want...I want you to not be scared," he said softly. And it was all honest and not meant to start a fight, something he was suddenly nervous about.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows slightly and then shrugged. "I guess, since I have never been in one before I am still trying to figure it out. And when I think I do, I don't really. Something is done or said that leaves my head spinning and sometimes I don't even know what happened. I'm still…in the learning stage I guess. But…I think I am doing better. I have been able to give Mycroft relationship advice and I am more comfortable admitting personal thing."

"Nobody ever gets it completely right. Every relationship is different, Sherlock." John lifted a hand and ran it through his husband's hair with a smile. Hell, he had already been through one horrid relationship that was long term and multiples that had failed for one reason or another. "I don't know everything. Probably never will but I am all right with it because we are learning together."

Sherlock smiled, liking the sound of that. The smile twisted into a smirk when he looked back up at John. "Just you wait. I will become so good at this relationship thing that I will be so cocky and confident that you will be wishing for me to be apprehensive again." He snuggled back into his husband's shoulder because he found it to be quite comfortable to be nestled into.

"Oh really?" John laughed and pulled Sherlock closer with a grin. "We will see about that, I am sure. You have the rest of our lives to figure this all out, remember?" He placed a kiss on his husband's temple and took a deep breath. "I hate to ruin this moment but I think I am going to be sick," he whispered, pulling away from his husband gently and moving to the bathroom. He settled in front of the toilet and waited for several moments before he started to vomit, trying to keep it as quiet as possible.

Sherlock frowned, his eyebrows crinkling together. When John had swallowed his semen, it probably hadn't been the best of ideas. He sighed, slamming his head into the pillow below him in frustration. He should have said 'no' when his husband had asked to give him a hand job. He should have known how it would have turned out. Now John was sick because of him. He sighed again, got up and moved to the bathroom. He wasn't really sure if there was anything he could though.

After emptying the contents of his stomach, John was doing nothing but dry heaving. One hand was rested on his stomach, the other curled around the cool porcelain of the toilet. Jesus, this wasn't at comfortable at all. He heard Sherlock move into the bathroom and whimpered, dry heaving again and ending with a bit of a cough. The last thing he wanted to do was make Sherlock feel guilty for the blow job but he wasn't doing a very good job. "You are fine," he muttered, lifting his head slightly.

"I may be fine but you aren't." Sherlock sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi and watched his husband with worried eyes. Damn it. "John, I am serious. The next couple days you are going to take it easy. You need to get better my dear doctor." Resolve and determination was in his voice but he wondered if this time he would stick to it. God, he really was a sex addict wasn't he?

"Mmph," John replied before dry heaving again, coughing harshly before lifting his head and slumping heavily against the toilet. That had exhausted him and, Jesus, it felt like it was never going to stop. He lifted himself up again, vomiting with a whimper. There could only be so much left in his stomach. "Isn't your fault," he said softly, turned his head to look at Sherlock with a weak smile.

Not his fault. Yeah, right. There was no point in arguing about it. What mattered right now was getting John better. Sherlock managed to smile back faintly, but his eyes still held worry. There wasn't anything he could for his husband at the moment. That was the most frustrating part of this whole situation. He didn't like for things to be out of his control.

John didn't move for a while and let out a soft sigh of relief when it felt like his stomach was done. He sat up slowly and pushed himself back to rest against the side of the Jacuzzi, letting his head fall against the side of his husband's thigh. Deep breaths. His eyes slip closed and he coughed slightly. "Sorry."

Sherlock reached down, running his hand through John's hair soothingly. "You are fine my Love. Just sit and rest for bit, I am right here." He shifted a bit so he could put both hands on his husband's shoulders and began to massage them lightly. He hoped to help John relax by the gentle motions.

John moaned slightly from Sherlock's touch, his body relaxing instantly as he smiled. It was clear to him, in his hazy thoughts, that he had clearly married the perfect man. "I love you," he whispered with a grin. "You married an idiot," he added with a soft chuckle. Good Lord, Sherlock's hands were like magic.

Sherlock smiled. "I love you too." He continued the gentle massage, his thumbs moving to do small circles on either side of John's neck. "If you want I can give you full massage on the bed. Only if you are ready to get up, that is my dear doctor." He leaned down kissed the top of his husband's head.

Oh. A full massage. That sounded wonderful. John smiled a bit a nodded. "Yeah, sounds good," he whispered softly. How could he even think about turning that down? "Jus' let me get up."He took a deep, hesitant breath and stood slowly, swaying slightly on his feet and bracing himself against the wall. "Good. I am good," he stated as he started moving slowly toward their bedroom.

Sherlock hopped off the Jacuzzi and caught up with John easily. He locked their arms together gently, so he could help his husband back to the bed. Once John was ready, he straddled his husband on the hips and began massaging the upper back first. "Let me know if it hurts too much at anytime."

John relaxed and sighed shakily into the mattress, nodding his head the best he could. Except this would never hurt, it was perfect. One hand lifted above his head and gripped at the pillow as he tried not to sound so damn sexual. A moan slipped through his lips and he laughed. "So good," he said with a soft smile.

Sherlock smiled and continued the gentle pressure on John's back. Maybe he should continue the story with the knight and orphan. He thought for a moment before he began the third part of the tale; he had secretly come to enjoy telling. "Even though the knight and orphan were stuck in alternate plane of existence, they had figured out a way to get back to theirs. There used to be portals that could teleport people between two worlds, but those of course were broken. With the right tools and material they could be rebuilt. So, the knight and orphan went on many adventures together. Killing bandits, slaying dragons, and even saving a princess from an evil prince. By the time they had finally gathered everything they needed, the orphan was no longer a boy but a man. He could now use a sword, which the knight taught him to use. They got the teleport to work after many weeks of working on it. When they stepped on the working mechanism, a bright light shrouded them and blinded them. When the bright light finally died down and they could see again, they found themselves in a burning city. They vowed to make the evil wizard pay for this. Only they didn't realize it wasn't the sorcerer, a new much worse threat had taken over while they were gone."

John listened intently and slowly opened his eyes to look at his husband the best he could. "Oi, you can't jus' stop there," he muttered into the pillow. He let his eyes slipped closed again he smirked. "I hope the knight got to marry that princess," he whispered as his body slowly started to go limp. Maybe he could just rest for a little bit, maybe that would be all right. His breathing evened out and he fell asleep.

Sherlock smirked. "It's called a cliffhanger John. You will just have to wait to hear the story some other time." The smirk softened into a smile when his husband fell asleep. Good. He was hoping that would happen. He laid down next to John, snuggling into his husband's side. While telling the third part of the story, he had decided he was going to have written down and published. Maybe it could be like a side job, writing children's books. He would of course write under a pseudo name. He had a reputation to keep after all.

John slept for several hours, waking up with a soft sigh. It was dark outside. Had he fallen asleep? He stretched slightly and looked down at his husband with a tired smile. "Mmm, hi." He let his eyes close again and stretched some more. His body felt loads better and he didn't feel like coughing. "How are you?" He asked as he lifted an arm to rest protectively over his husband's torso.

"I am well my dear doctor. How are you feeling?" Sherlock was glad that John had been able to sleep so long. His husband had needed it. He had watched over his partner the entire time, to make sure John was okay. He leaned over and kissed his husband on the lips gently and briefly. "I love you."

John smiled but didn't return the kiss. He had practically thrown up his stomach and that wasn't romantic at all. "Good. I am good. I feel a lot better," he stated with a small nod. It was all because of his husband, too. Without Sherlock's help he wouldn't have tried to break his fever or anything. "I owe you a lot." He grinned and his hand moved to run through Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock smiled. "Good, I am glad." He shrugged a bit. "You don't owe me a thing Love." He leaned over again, this time kissing John on the nose. "So, while you were sleeping I decided to try and publish the story for little Sandi. Maybe read it to her before bed time. Parents do that, don't they?" He wasn't sure. He had never had stories before sleeping as a child. He had read about it one of the parental books he had bought for research.

"They read them stories, yes." John smiled a bit and laughed. "Don't always publish them but you are Sherlock Holmes so I don't really see a problem." He grinned and pulled Sherlock closer. "She is going to love it, though. I know she will." He started tracing soft shapes between his husband's shoulder blades. "I do owe you for taking care of me."

"Part of my job of being your husband is to take you care of you. You would have done the same for me, if the roles were reversed." Sherlock smiled and gave a slight shrug. "But if you really want to make it up to me, you could lay in bed here with me and we could snuggle the night away. Sounds like a fair trade to me."

"I can do that," John replied with a proud smile. That was exactly what his body wanted, really. A day of laying in bed against a wonderfully warm person. That was exactly what he imagined the doctor ordered. "Can I make some tea first? My stomach is still a bit upset and I think that might help," he whispered nervously, taking a deep breath and smiling sheepishly.

"I will make the tea. You stay in bed Love." Sherlock kissed the top of John's head before sliding out of bed. He slid on the boxers he had been wearing earlier and then walked out to the kitchen. It didn't take long to make tea and prepare two cups. He walked back to the bedroom, with a tray. He set it on the night stand. It occurred to him dishes would need to be done soon at some point.

Well, this was more like some fancy hotel than anything. John smiled up at his husband, taking his cup and sitting up to take a slow slip. The movement had agitated his stomach slightly but he ignored it, licking his lips and clearing his throat. "I didn't mean to ruin your plans," he finally said. It was clear he had been holding it in, not wanting to tell his husband. "I want something that you planned to happen, though, I promise."

"My dear doctor it is fine. I am supposed to take care of and that is exactly what I am going to do." Sherlock gave John a reassuring smile. He sat down near the edge of the bed, took his cup and began sipping on the tea slowly. He always took his time when drinking and even eating.

This was an entirely different Sherlock he was dealing with, it felt like. "I don't want to push you," John started out slowly and took a deep breath. "Are you upset about me going out there to get you?" He finally asked, his gaze holding steady as he studied his husband. Sherlock had been acting a bit different the moment he had woken up in that lighthouse

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Mad? Why would I be mad about that? You saved my life John. I guess...I just...when I let go, I was ready to die. I didn't want to, I just...it was the only thing I could think of so you might have chance to get you to safety. I feel like I have been given a second chance with you and I don't want to mess it up..." He shrugged, dropping his gaze. God when did he start to sound so needy?

Right. John had asked a question and the answer had ripped his heart out. The mug slipped from his hands and hit the blanket, his tea spilling everywhere. He couldn't be bothered to look, his eyes locked on his husband. Oh. "Y-You're not going to mess anything up," he said softly, taking a shaky breath. "I...you're not," he repeated weakly because, damn it, Sherlock was the most perfect man he had ever met.

Sherlock frowned as John dropped the cup. Had he said something wrong? His husband was upset. Great. He kept his gaze fixed on the cup. He didn't know what to say now. What he said had been true though. He had been willing to die so John could be safe, yet here they both were alive. He was determined to be the best husband ever. What if next time he didn't make it? Would his husband know how much he meant to him? Almost drowning and dying...it had put things in perspective...

"I love you," John said softly, picking his cup up and kicking the blankets to the end of the bed. "God, I love you." He straddled his husband's hips swiftly, framing Sherlock's face in his hands and meeting his lips. Nobody had ever said something like that to him. He'd had men sacrifice their lives for him but nobody ever told him that, some didn't even make it. And here Sherlock was, changing his life because of what happened.

So John wasn't mad? Sherlock smiled, fumbling a bit as he took the time to set the cup of tea down. He then wrapped his arms around his husband and hugged the other man close to him tightly. "I love you too." He had been scared at the lighthouse, like he had at the hospital the day John was shot. Too many close calls for them. He needed to stop being so stubborn and selfish, there was more than just him to worry about. What if… He took shuddering breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and pressed his head into his husband's shoulder.

John moved a hand to rest one the back of Sherlock's head, scratching at his husband's scalp. "It's okay," he whispered. His husband hadn't verbalized that something was wrong but he could feel it. The way he had let out his breath was enough for him. There was a moment where he felt helpless but he pushed it away to take care of Sherlock. "We're both here. We are fine."

"Sorry," Sherlock mumbled into the shoulder as he loosened his grip on John. Okay. He was fine now, right? No reason for any of this really. Stupid emotions. He hated them sometimes but he didn't want to go back to living without them. He finally lifted his head to look at his husband with a small smile and then leaned in for a kiss. It was a little more aggressive and needy than he had meant.

John moaned softly into the kiss, tangling his hand in Sherlock's hair. Earlier his husband had said that he wanted to wait for a few days but after this... Shit. John pushed his hips back and away from Sherlock to hide his growing erection. The last thing he wanted was to tempt his husband. He had seen the look on Sherlock's face when he was throwing up. But this was good, very good, and he didn't really want to stop.

Sherlock really wanted John right now, but he didn't want desperate, needy sex. He wanted what they planned before all this had happened. God, he still needed that. He continued the kiss anyway, breathing loudly through his nose when he refused to break it. He hadn't realized what an emotional mess he was until now and he didn't know any other way to fix it, so his kiss became progressively more needy and sloppier.

Right. God, what a wonderful kiss. John whimpered into Sherlock's mouth, gasped and moved forward, pressing his erection against his husband's stomach. He couldn't help himself. The kiss was needy and desperate and they clearly both felt like that. His hips didn't move after that, keeping his cock trapped between them as he followed the sloppy kiss the best he could.

Sherlock whimpered when he felt John's penis against his stomach. He finally broke the kiss panting for a moment before speaking. "Fuck me, please. God I need you right now." So much for waiting a couple days for his husband to get better before they shagged. His fingers clawed gently at John's back, his body bucking up into the man above him fervently as another whimper escaped his lips.

Okay. Could he do this? Would John's body be able to even last that long? "Yeah. Slow?" He slipped slightly on the sheet his arms giving out from just holding him up for so long. But Sherlock wanted this and he didn't want to disappoint his husband. "Jus'. Yeah. Lube," he said weakly as he tried to push himself up again.

Shit. What the hell was he thinking? "John...wait. Stop. I'm sorry. Just...just lay here with me?" Sherlock sighed, his eyes closing shut. He did want his husband but he couldn't be selfish, not right now. John could barely keep food down, now was not the time to shag.

Stop? John sighed and relaxed against his husband, his hands clutching at the sheet below them. "Sorry," he muttered with a small frown. Had he disappointed Sherlock? That was the last thing he wanted. "Sorry," he repeated as he pressed his face into Sherlock's chest.

Why was John apologizing? Sherlock gave his husband a reassuring smile. "You are fine my dear doctor." He reached a hand down to John's face, giving the cheek soothing strokes. Maybe he was getting better at self control. He supposed that was a good thing, despite the fact he still wanted his husband.

"It is going to make our romantic night a lot better," John whispered with a small laugh. The soothing movement of Sherlock's hand made his eyes flutter shut. Despite being little more than skin an bones, his husband made a wonderful pillow. "Sorry I couldn't shag you. Sorry," he repeated with a small yawn.

Yes. Making love under the stars. In his haze of excitement Sherlock had almost forgotten about it. It was better to wait. "You should sleep some more my dear doctor." He moved his hand up to John's head, where he began scratching lightly at the scalp to help relax his husband even further.

John mumbled something into his husband's chest and stretched slightly against Sherlock's body. "Not tired," he whispered softly as his fingers curled tightly into the sheet on the bed. "Stay awake with you," he added with a small yawn. He was fighting it, trying to stay awake so he could keep his husband company. "I love you."

Sherlock smirked a bit and kissed the top of John's head. Not tired indeed. He snuggled in closer to his husband. "Love you too." He continued to run his fingers through John's hair lightly. He decided to stay quiet, in hopes sleep would find his husband anyway, even though the other man was fighting it.

Quiet. Sherlock's chest was moving in such a wonderfully shallow way and his heartbeat was powerful and an anchor. John finally relaxed fully against his husband, snoring softly against Sherlock's chest. He slept for several hours before slowly waking up, shifting slightly against his husband. God, he hated being sick.