It was 4 o'clock. Late afternoon. A glowing sun was resting just over the horizon; it made days seem shorter in the winter because of this. John was wearing his thick cream jumper which effectively shielded him from the frost-bitten cold, he walked into the lounge with two steaming cups of tea in hand to find the detective draped in his dressing gown as he lay across his armchair. John let out a deep sigh as he turned on the television, "I don't want to leave you, Sherlock." he mumbled as he placed Sherlock's tea on the coffee table. He slumped into his own chair, watching Sherlock scan through the contents of his case folder that Lestrade had given him that morning; his face was engulfed by a mop of inky curls. It was 20 seconds later that the detective decided to respond. "Did you say something?" his curls gracefully bounced as he jerked up his head. John should have expected to lack Sherlock's attention when he was in deep thought, how stupid of him. John shook his head, not wanting to bring his emotions into his partner's work. The detective nodded in response and lay on his back; his legs were tucked to his stomach and his hands were together, resting on his chin. His hair was hanging over the arm of the chair. John could do nothing but watch and ache, for the doctor knew that in less than 48 hours, he wouldn't witness the detective's behaviour for a month. He debated on whether to continue watching Sherlock and make the most of it before he leaves or to stop torturing himself and turn to the television. He eventually found himself staring at the television screen; but he only focused on the detective's blurry silhouette out of the corner of his eye. 'Positive. Think positive. It's just a month' he told himself. The more he thought about the opportunity he was given, the greater it seemed. The only negative thought that practically crushed him was the fact that while he will be there, he will have the world's only consulting detective's absence. Why couldn't he just solve the case? That way they can spend as much time together as possible before John's departure. Just as if Sherlock read his mind, he gave a loud exaggerated sigh. "My goodness!"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, that was so incredibly easy, John! It's like Scotland Yard isn't even trying anymore!" He tossed the folder into the air before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone.

"Oh," John replied, "you only started that case 10 minutes ago. I was expecting you to take longer." He endeavoured to hide his smile.

"That's my point! If they're going to give me a case, they could at least give me something that will give me a bit of brain stimulation!" His slender fingers tapped away on his phone as he texted Lestrade. He aggressively shoved the phone back into his pocket shortly after.

The doctor silently stared at Sherlock who was now pacing from the kitchen door to his desk repeatedly. 3 minutes passed before the detective sighed and collapsed into his armchair; he locked eyes with John.

"Are you okay?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"You know why, John."

"Yeah, well..." John's sentence trailed off as it also just occurred to him that he won't be under Sherlock's observant eyes for a month. Sherlock obviously noticed this and stood up before holding out his hand for John. He willingly took it as Sherlock pulled him up to his feet. The detective held him tight; just like when they reunited at the top of 's. His arms were like a shield to John, that protected him from his negative thoughts; that numbed the pain from his aching heart. He embraced the warmth of the taller man that penetrated his rigid muscles; he inhaled his scent. It was a mixture of his spicy cologne that was partially masked with the scent of disinfectant from the lab. Despite the struggle, John successfully held back his tears and sighed deeply into Sherlock's dressing gown. "The month is going to fly by, don't worry." Sherlock's voice was deep and quiet. It bordered onto a whisper. John could only nod into the detective's chest, not trusting his voice that was most likely thick with the tears that he held back. "I'm not telling you to go to hurt you, John, I'm telling you to go because I know you want to."

"Mmmm" John acknowledged Sherlock's statement. He pulled away as he began to regain confidence in his voice. "I would object due to obvious reasons, but then again, who am I to argue with the world's only consulting detective?" A smile finally started to grow on his lips.

...

John was now in between Sherlock's legs as they sat together on John's armchair, they spent the last two hours watching television. The doctor occasionally flinched as Sherlock randomly shouted at the screen, telling the inanimate object that it's not possible for the person on the screen to be the murderer, the way he matches his shirt with his shoes was the 'obvious' giveaway, apparently. John couldn't give a damn about what was on the television though, what he focused on was the warm embrace around his torso, the slender thighs surrounding his body. His heart was racing, his palms were sweating and his pupils were dilated, no doubt. He knew the man shouting at the screen was fully aware, but was thankful that he was 'distracted' by the plot in the TV show, instead of bringing up his arousal and embarrassing the blond.

"Hmmm..." Sherlock's chin rested atop of John's head, causing his deep voice to vibrate through John's skull.

"What is it now?" John laughed, "Not sure whether Sally's sleeping with Jim because she's changed her lipstick?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. She's sleeping with Pete because she's wearing that necklace! Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth." Replied the rather smug detective.

John let out a soft chuckle. "What is it then?"

"I...I kind of like Pete's moustache." He answered, rather shyly.

"Hey!" The doctor playfully elbowed Sherlock's torso.

"Oh, don't worry, John, you're still the best man for me." Sherlock insisted, trying to hold back laughter over John's jealousy.

"I better be, Holmes."

John shuffled around and swung his legs over the arm of the chair. He turned to see Sherlock's amused expression, causing him to blush, earning an even larger smile off of the detective. Sherlock leant an inch forward before planting a soft kiss on John's lips.

"You are."