Sherlock had barely changed; his pale face still glowed softly in the bright moonlight. The man's piercing eyes were still an icy pale blue as they gazed intently into John's. John observed Sherlock who was sitting next to him in the London cab on the way to Baker Street. Only one thing about him had changed in John's absence; his figure, it was much slimmer. Sherlock clearly hadn't been eating much as he waited for his doctor to return, as a consequence, he had lost all the weight that John helped him put on after his 'return from the dead' as most people called it. Guilt suddenly engulfed John's paralysed body as he continued to stare at the man beside him. His guilt was soon replaced with content though as he watched the silky ebony curls that hung freely across Sherlock's forehead bounce as the taxi went over a speed bump. He stifled a chuckle. He was aware of his love for Sherlock, but on that ride back to the flat, after a month of not seeing him, John was finally certain that this was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life: to constantly be in the detective's presence and to have moments like this, where they don't need to talk, their eyes do all of the talking as they drink in each other.

After a 20 minute journey which seemed like only 5 minutes, the consulting duo were stood in front of a well known jet black, glossy door which held the address '221B'. The metal plates shimmered every time it caught the glow from the headlights of cars as they drove past. John watched as Sherlock hastily searched his pockets for the key. As a bitter breeze passed him, the doctor wrapped Sherlock's overcoat around himself tighter. He will never forget the concerned yet caring look the detective gave him at the airport as he swiftly took off his overcoat and draped it around John to keep him warm. One of the rare selfless acts that Sherlock had done for John. John inhaled deeply, the familiar aroma of Sherlock filled his lungs: Spicy cologne and a bit of lab disinfectant. The blond was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the door unlock. Mrs Hudson quickly ran down the hallway to greet the two before pulling John into a tight hug. "Lovely to have you back!"

"Glad to be back." John smiled softly.

"Would you like a cuppa?"

"No he wouldn't." Sherlock quickly responded before John could even think of an answer, earning a rather confused look off him and Mrs Hudson.

"Actually," John finally answered, "I would love-"

"No you wouldn't. Come on, John; I'll help you unpack."

Suddenly, the doctor was pulled by his arm as Sherlock ran up the stairs...

Sherlock stopped in front of the door, hesitating to open it. "Sherlock?" John began, "are you oka-" He was abruptly cut off as Sherlock pulled John into a kiss. This wasn't like the one they had shared at the airport; it was certainly passionate, but it was also desperate. John moaned softly into the kiss as his fingers gradually found themselves entwined in Sherlock's curls. Just as it began to get more heated, Sherlock pulled away. "Mrs Hudson could come up at any moment, sorry." The detective smirked as he opened the door. As John peered through the doorway his jaw dropped at the sight of the living room. The room was immaculate, not a speck of dust in sight and not an item misplaced; this was not the reason John was so astounded though. The lights were off but the room was filled with a warm golden glow from the roaring fireplace and the candles which were scattered around its surroundings. Flickering flames from the candles that were lined up along the frame of the fireplace lit up the glistening mirror behind them. John speechlessly stepped into the room, he inhaled deeply at the familiar scent of the flat which had a subtle undertone of vanilla and cinnamon from the burning candles. "Sherlock...this is-"

"Shhhh." Sherlock gently pulled his coat off of John and hung it on the door before guiding the doctor to the kitchen. The usual smell of rotting flesh and bacterium in Petri dishes was replaced with the irresistible aroma of spaghetti bolognaise and garlic bread. Red wine was resting at the side of the table beside two glasses which glistened in the candle light which filled the kitchen as well as the living room. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk; he didn't realise that Angelo would take the meal this far. Nevertheless, the scenery was still breathtaking. The detective gestured for the stunned John to sit; he willingly obliged.

"Sherlock, what you've done here," John twirled the spaghetti around his fork, "is absolutely incredible."

Sherlock smiled as he also started to eat. He was famished. Sherlock couldn't remember the last time he had a meal, he had a mince pie a few days ago, but that was it. John's absence had significantly reduced his appetite. "Really?" he chuckled, "it's not too cheesy then?"

"No, it is." John opened the bottle of the red wine and began to pour it into both his and Sherlock's glasses. "I wouldn't ask for anything less though, since when does Sherlock Holmes, the man who expresses little emotion-well except towards me- put together a meal and atmosphere like this?"

"I've had a bit of help." Sherlock admitted.

"Really? Off whom?

"Angelo; who else would cook an Italian meal?" Sherlock teased, "No wait, who else would fill a room with this many candles?"

John laughed as he continued to eat. "Thank you." His voice was soft and appreciative.

Sherlock looked up at John. The golden glow softened the features of the doctors face, there was a gentle smile at his lips as he took a sip of the wine. His eyes were soft and warm, no longer bloodshot, nor fatigued, they were instead, filled with admiration. "You're welcome." Sherlock replied.

The detective bombarded John with what seemed like hundreds of questions throughout their meal; about how the lessons he taught were, how he was treated, the reputation he had etc. after every question that John answered, Sherlock came up with a new one. He spoke for hours as Sherlock listened attentively, his chin rested comfortably in his hands. It soon reached 11:00 PM when John had finished Sherlock's long list of questions. After his apologies of rambling on, he asked what Sherlock had done over the past four weeks, to which the raven- haired man responded with "Nothing much" as a wide grin spread across his face.

Sherlock pulled out his phone as he finished the last of his wine; he scanned through his music library as John watched him curiously. Suddenly 'The Way You Look Tonight' started playing from Sherlock's phone as he placed it in his trouser pocket. He stood up from the table and walked up to John who was now staring at him in perplexity.

"May I have this dance?" Sherlock asked with a hint of charm to his voice. He held out his hand, anxious for John to take it. Would John find this romantic? Or would he laugh and think he was joking? These were the questions that plagued Sherlock's spinning mind as each second passed. Much to his relief though, John smiled warmly at Sherlock as he took his hand. How much time had passed as they danced? None of them knew, all they knew is that it was now the ninth song that was playing on Sherlock's playlist that he had put together especially for that night. The couple's feet were synchronised as they slow danced together, occasionally humming to the romantic songs that sounded from Sherlock's pocket. To John, this was the highlight of the night, Sherlock didn't need extravagance to show his love -although the meal was mainly Angelo's doing. The simplicity of them dancing together, without saying a word and feeling as connected as ever was what made John feel loved the most. He pulled back a bit to meet Sherlock's eyes. "Why did you go to such an effort tonight?"

"What do you mean?"

"You could have waited here, ordered a takeaway and then we could have watched television together, but instead you've gone to this great effort to make everything perfect, not that I don't like it," John smiled, "but why did you do it?"

"I didn't really realise how much you meant to me until after you left; when you did, I felt lost, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. Your little departure taught me that you don't deserve just a takeaway and television, I care for you too much to do something so basic. John, I'm doing this because you deserve my whole heart and my very best." Sherlock gazed into John's eyes which were now glossy with tears of happiness. "Although I wasn't expecting to see so many candles when I got back, I wasn't expecting to need a gas mask to prevent myself choking on the aroma they're emitting either." Sherlock smirked. John chuckled as he rested his head on the taller man's chest. "I love you, Sherlock." His feet still gracefully moved in sync with Sherlock's.

"I love you too." Sherlock held onto John tightly as he gently stroked the hair on the nape of his neck. "Welcome back John..."

The couple weren't exhausted from slow dancing that lasted nearly an hour, but they decided to sit down on the sofa anyway. "Sherlock..."

"Yes?"

"You kissed me in the airport, you lost." John couldn't hide the large smile that was growing on his face.

"What?"

"You heard me, Sherlock. You lost at your own game."

"Don't be absurd. I didn't lose."

"Really? Because I believe that you lose after showing affection in public." John's smile was ever-growing.

Sherlock paused as he considered to admit defeat. No, he couldn't do that. Sherlock Holmes was not losing at his own game. "And did I show any sexual affection? No."

"It doesn't have to be sexual affection! You still gave away that we're together!"

"It has to be sexual affection, John, even if it wasn't I still wouldn't have lost because the conveyor belt at the airport was practically deserted!"

"There were still a few people there though! They could have saw us! And I'm quite sure that it had to be any signs of affection."

"Nope, hugging is affection, it doesn't necessarily mean that we're together if we hug."

John paused, he had full knowledge as to why Sherlock was being so stubborn. The detective was lying too, if he could get away with kissing, why did Sherlock stop him when John went to kiss him when they were shopping? Fine. If Sherlock wanted to be stubborn, John would need a way to make him lose again...

"Fine, I'll let you get away with it." John rolled his eyes, revealing defeat to disguise his scheming mind. "We're not in public now though..." John slowly crawled onto Sherlock's lap before he started to play with the man's shirt buttons. "So there's no need to hide anything, normal or sexual."

"A valid point." Sherlock's voice suddenly became deep and quiet, John could only just hear him.

"I think you need to make up for the cheesy meal." John winked as he started to unbutton Sherlock's shirt.

"Do I now?" Sherlock now had a mischievous grin across his lips.

"Yep, and for being so stubborn with your little rules..."

Before Sherlock could reply, John had closed the distance between them, forcing Sherlock against the back of the sofa as he demanded dominance. He used his delicate tongue to force Sherlock's mouth open and explore its contents. Sherlock couldn't stop the lustful moan which escaped his invaded mouth. He struggled to gain dominance but John refused; the doctor pushed his hands against Sherlock's now bare chest with increasing force as Sherlock struggled helplessly. He eventually gave in and caressed John's waist when the doctor speedily slid Sherlock's plum shirt down his shoulders and threw it to the other side of the sofa. The room was filled with newly discovered moans as both of their hands explored each other desperately. John eventually straddled Sherlock and he littered the detectives neck and chest with heated kisses, this didn't stop Sherlock from trying to hastily undo John's belt though. The doctor found his fingers deep within soft ebony curls as he slammed his mouth frantically against Sherlock's, his tongue battled with Sherlock's playfully as he felt his trousers tighten; the detective's hands roamed beneath John's jumper before he pulled it off in one fluid motion. Gasping up for air, John pulled back, causing Sherlock to whimper slightly. "I think the bed would be more comfortable than the chair." Sherlock stated as he lay helplessly beneath John, panting. John nodded in agreement. "I also have protection in the bedroom..." Sherlock suggested.

"Are you sure?" John asked, concerned.

"I couldn't be more positive." The man chuckled as he pulled the blond into another heated and lustful kiss...