~SLASH~ You can skip straight to chapter 4, if you want to; no major plot elements.
John woke up the next morning to the familiar feeling of Sherlock's gaze on him. He had missed it. Funny, the little things you grow used to.
"What time is it?" he mumbled, a faint morning light trickling through the curtains.
"Six thirtytwo," Sherlock said brushing his hair.
"Ouch, give me another two hours." John closed his eyes.
"Sure," Sherlock agreed pulling the duvet off John and sliding his hand under the pyjamas to stroke John's chest, leaning in to kiss affectionately where his hand had passed. As his lips tasted John's skin, he inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent. John. His hand wandered on lower and he fondled John's groin briefly in passing making John sigh with pleasure, his body unfolding, opening itself for Sherlock, inviting his touch. Sherlock started unbuttoning John's pyjama top, his lips following along, caressing John's chest, sides, abdomen. Gently waking up his senses, every brush rousing him. John still held on to the remnants of sleep, sensing everything through slumber. Sherlock's touch a comforting dream.
"…if you're happy letting the convalescent do all the work," Sherlock scoffed sucking just below John's nipple with sudden force. John moaned delighted.
"That would be unethical, now, wouldn't it?" John groaned. He pulled Sherlock to his lips and kissed him eagerly. These full lips all for him, for him only. He relished Sherlock with his tongue, arousal now fiercely rushing over him. Sherlock yelped surprised as John turned him to his back and got on top of him.
It had been way too long since he had had Sherlock under him, yearning for his touch. John took a moment to look at him, the eyes full of desire for his touch, body bucking up against his, lips parted in excitement. Beautiful. He leaned in to kiss Sherlock deeply, fully, before moving hungrily lower, pecking his neck. Sherlock already whispering his name, letting him know how much he needed him. It had been weeks, if not months, since they'd made love. Work, blasted work, being a priority. Right now neither one of them could imagine what could possibly be more important or more compelling than this.
John finished undressing them slowly. Took off his own pyjama, then Sherlock's, traced his arm, arm, leg, leg with his fingers, his mouth, learning their composition once again. Sherlock quivered. They had longed for each other's bodies, their lips and fingers keen to touch the other where they could, feeling each other again, thirsty after a long draught. Their cocks hard, brushing as they pressed together. John kissed Sherlock's stomach, buried his face against it, one hand absentmindedly stroking the soft skin on his balls. Sherlock raised his hips, aching to be held. John, unable to resist, took him in his mouth, all of him, swirled his tongue around the tip savouring the taste, loving how Sherlock's breath grew faster, more shallow, anxious for John.
John made Sherlock get close, so blissfully close, until letting go, coming on top of him once more. As their lips met, Sherlock grabbed his hair, pulled him closer, his eyes begging for John to fuck him.
"You're gorgeous. Gorgeous," John panted as he slid gradually, carefully in to the tight heat. The glorious ass encasing him, John caught his breath. Amazing. Pushing in, pulling out, slowly. In again, further. Their eyes open, locked, passing messages there were no words for. John quickened his pace, Sherlock pushing back, pulling him deeper. He took Sherlock in his hand, the rhythm of their hips guiding the strokes. Sherlock held on to John's buttock, the other hand on his face, the thumb slipping into John's mouth. John sucked it desperately.
Sherlock started coming first, thrusted his head back, pulling John along with the trembles of his body. The pleasure shattering them, a silent weep escaping. The release almost unbearable. John pressed his mouth against Sherlock's chest, muffling his groans on it.
John collapsed next to Sherlock, cuddled against him, Sherlock's cum now all over them.
"Where've you been?" Sherlock whispered wrapping John in his arms, "I missed you."
"Me?" John laughed in a daze, "Been here all along, luv. It was you, who found a case more interesting."
"How incredibly idiotic of me," Sherlock kissed John's face tenderly.
"Agreed. But don't worry, I'll be here waiting for you. Always," John pecked the corner of Sherlock's mouth.
John stretched to get a tissue and wiped the cum and the lube off the sheets best he could. It was one thing telling your friends you were gay, quite another leaving them the proof in the laundry. Sherlock sat up and John nestled next to him, his head on Sherlock's lap as Sherlock picked up a book from the bedside table, and started to read stroking John's hair distracted. It was peaceful, no sounds of traffic, and even the birds weren't chirping. Sherlock so warm and comfortable against him, his touch soothing. John nodded off.