At some point, John and James had found a morning routine that worked for them. James would wake John up before heading off and taking a shower. John would go and prepare breakfast. Once out of the shower and dressed for the day, James would join him and eat with John before heading off to work. Then John would putter around the flat until James got back. They had just fallen into the routine as they spent random mornings together. And honestly? John sort of preferred it over 221B. After all, he and Sherlock failed to establish a morning ritual. John never knew exactly what he was waking up to: a "dull" morning, or a failed experiment, or – sometimes even worse than that – a successful one, or a new case or client. And although John enjoyed staying on his toes, every now and again, he wished he could just wake up and know what was going to happen. With James, that was never an issue.

This morning had been no different. He had made them scrambled eggs and toast. In fact, he had just started to eat his breakfast when he heard a knock at the door. Pausing, he waited a moment, slightly confused. James was currently getting changed in the bedroom, and there would be no reason for a guest. At the very least, he knew it wasn't Mycroft's men or an enemy. They would have busted down the front door in their haste. So either Moran was coming over or a neighbour needed something. After a long moment, he heard the front door open. Immediately, his brain began to go into overdrive. What if it was an assassin? He might have knocked to throw John off. Or to see if anyone was home. Although he knew he was being irrational, John instinctively reached over for a knife. The door to the flat opened to reveal Moran, and he relaxed, setting the knife back down. "I didn't know you were coming over," he explained as Moran caught a flash of the knife.

"Boss didn't tell you?" he inquired. "Thought I'd come visit you one last time."

"Before what?" John asked, somewhat surprised.

Sebastian looked at him in confusion. "Don't you know?"

"Know what?" John pressed as James came out of the bedroom. He glanced over for a brief moment. As soon as he saw Moran, James's posture changed. His gaze sharpened, and he stood tall and rigid. Immediately, John recognised the Moriarty façade. Slowly, he looked back towards Moran. "What's happening tomorrow?"

"You seriously have no clue," Moran noted, sounding incredibly baffled. John scowled as he heard the tone. Obviously, he didn't know what Moran was talking about. There was no need to rub his face in it. "Tomorrow-"

"Moran is going to Moscow for a job," Moriarty cut in sharply, causing both of them to look at him. "He won't be back for a while."

Blinking a few times, Moran paused before saying, "I thought the boss would have told you since I had been planning on visiting you one last time."

"I forgot," Moriarty said dismissively. "I was otherwise occupied when I returned home."

John went red as he heard this, and he avoided Moran's gaze as he turned back to the meals he had just finished preparing. Setting one plate onto the island, he said, "If I had known that you were coming over, I would have made you some, too." He picked up a fork and stabbed into his eggs, eating a bit as he waited for a response.

"I already had breakfast," Moran informed him, pulling up a seat at the island.

James headed around and grabbed a fork. He seemed somewhat tense, and John realised that Moran had never been around extensively when they were both home. After observing a moment longer, John realised Moriarty was trying to keep up an appearance in front of Moran, which hardly surprised him. Moriarty and Moran worked together, after all, so there had to remain some sort of professional air between them.

Eventually, Moran's voice caught his attention again. "I brought you a new game for us to play. I think you'll enjoy it. It's a zombie apocalypse game. All you have to do is kill zombies and not die. Think you can handle that?"

Grinning, John responded, "Yeah, I think I've got that covered."

"Good. Because I don't want to be saving your arse every five minutes today."

Snorting, John retorted, "If I recall correctly, I saved your arse more than once from an enemy soldier in the last game we played." He stabbed another bite of food.

"It was the least you could do while I was doing all the work," Moran countered jokingly.

John rolled his eyes and swallowed the bit in his mouth. "You're full of shite."

Moran grinned in response. Just as he went to go on, James stood abruptly. They both instinctively looked at him . "I see you two will get on just fine without me here. Just remember what I told you, Sebastian."

"Of course," Moran confirmed, nodding his head slightly.

James slid his empty plate towards John, who took it and put both it and the fork into the dishwasher. "Have fun playing your silly games," Moriarty goaded as he headed towards the front door.

"Same to you," John retorted playfully before shovelling another bite into his mouth.

James turned slightly and barely smirked at John before leaving the flat. Letting out a long breath, Moran responded, "I don't know how you get away with saying such shite, but you do and manage to survive in the process. I have to say kudos."

"Don't be absurd," John responded, waving the comment off. "By the way, what did he tell you?"

Humming, Moran paused for a moment before answering, "Oh! He told me I had to be out of here by six o'clock. That he didn't want to come back to his flat just to see my ugly mug."

"He's got a point there. You're not all that good-looking," John jested as he put his own plate and fork in the dishwasher. "Ready to play?"

"Do you honestly have to ask that?" John went to head over to the living room when Moran said, "But first!" Pausing, he waited as he watched Moran head back into the entryway and emerge with a case of beer. "I brought this for us. Put it in the entryway since the boss thinks drinking before noon is unbecoming."

John snickered. "You do realise that he probably noticed it on the way out, right?"

"Probably, but he left it there for us, so I'm guessing he didn't have a problem with it." With that, Moran cracked open two and handed one to John. "Cheers!"

"Cheers," John managed, staving off his laughter long enough to take a drink. He then headed over to the living room, flopped onto the couch, and took a controller in his hand. "So what's this game we're playing like?"

It took no time before John and Moran were comfortable and slaughtering hoards of zombies. The game, although rather straightforward in concept, still contained a nice plot and subplot for each campaign. But the characters were painfully American – fitting, he supposed, since the story was set in the United States. Even so, he wasn't entirely sure if the one needed to have that awful Southern accent that raked against his ears. He was having enough fun, however, to let that all slide. Moran and he made a dangerous duo in this game, as most of the zombies had no concept of stealth. They supported each other well, as a team should be. The entire time, neither of them said a negative word towards the other. Not even in a joking manner. Before John knew it, they had completed three campaigns and were going onto their last one.

"Enjoying yourself?" Moran inquired as he fiddled with the settings.

John took another swig of beer. "Yeah," he responded, setting his half-full can down next to the empty ones. Moran was drinking two to his one, and he was slightly in awe of Moran. After all, John's tolerance for alcohol had always been on the low side, which was why he didn't drink too much. Leaning back into the seat, he watched as the short cut scene started. "I'm surprised you wanted to see me before we parted ways. Although I really shouldn't be. I mean, look at me. I'm the best mate a guy could have!" he joked.

Grinning in return, Moran said, "I actually had another motivation to come here today."

"Oh?" He paused the game and looked over. "And what might that be?"

Moran pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to John. "I want you to memorise this number. If anything happens and you need back-up, I want you to give me a call."

Looking down at the number, John glanced back up and frowned. "What do you think is going to happen?"

"Right now? Nothing. But you can just never tell, can you? I want to know that you can contact me if you ever need to. I want to be able to back you up should anything happen. Be it a possible assassination or the need for a handsome date for a wedding."

Moran was trying to play it off, but John felt slightly off about the entire situation. After all, Moran wouldn't give him this information if he didn't think John would need it. Blinking, he looked down at the number. He quickly ran it through his head several times, trying to find patterns or mathematical methods in order to remember it. There were a few – enough to get John started. After reading and rereading the number for a good ten minutes, John set it down and recited it to Moran several times. He knew he would be randomly tested throughout the day and probably be left with the number in order to study it further, but for now, he had it down pat.

They resumed playing their game, working together seamlessly. As expected, Moran would randomly quiz John on the number, ensuring that it was instilled in his mind. As they wrapped up the final campaign, Moran slowly rose to his feet. "Repeat the number," he ordered. John did as he was told, reciting it perfectly. "Good." With that, Moran picked up the card from the table and slipped it back into his pocket.

"Wait, you're taking that with you?" John inquired, not having anticipated that move.

"I can't have you keep it."

Confused, John pressed, "And why not?"

"To be honest, the boss probably wouldn't like what I just did. Anything that connects you back to Moriarty is detrimental to the both of you. But I couldn't leave without knowing that you can contact me somehow if you needed to," Moran responded as he headed towards the door. "It's been nice getting to know you again, Watson."

John felt a strike of nostalgia. Offering a small smile, he answered, "Wish I could say the same thing."

"Git."

"Arse."

Moran tossed up a hand as a goodbye before he walked into the entryway, leaving John alone in the flat. This was all a bit much for him, and he wasn't entirely sure what his emotions were doing. Who would have thought that he would make a friend in this entire fiasco? Who knew that he would get attachedto people? But what bothered him the most was that he knew this was only a taste of what was to come. For when he and James would have to go their separate ways as well. He hadn't been counting down the days for far too long, but he knew that his time was coming to a close. It had to be. Honestly, he felt like he had been staying with James for months, not just days… or was it weeks now? Bloody Hell, he didn't know anymore.

Tossing himself onto the sofa, John buried his face in the pillows and closed his eyes. He just needed to take a moment for himself. To calm down and recalculate everything. After all, he had Moran's number now. It wasn't as if they were completely separated for the rest of their lives. He was just a phone call away. Relaxing, John smiled softly. Until now, he hadn't realised just how much he needed that number – a connection – something to tie him down here. It made everything that much more tangible. And no matter what, he always had to remember that his relationships with Moran and James were genuine. Especially since he knew the hellfire that was waiting for him once he left the flat, and it was not something he was looking forward to.

Despite all of his thinking, John had managed to slowly drift to sleep. It was such a slow drift, in fact, that he hardly realised he was floating until he heard the door open and footsteps approach. Struggling to open his eyes and greet James, he shifted a bit on the sofa and reached a heavy hand up. Before it fell back down into the sofa, it was caught by another hand. John smiled softly as he felt those familiar fingers spread his apart.

"Move over," James called out warmly.

Groaning, John shifted to the edge of the sofa and felt James slide down the back of the sofa and behind him. He was pulled back as their bodies slotted together. James rested his chin on top of John's head, and his thumb stroked the back of John's hand. Humming contently, John dozed off again. He woke up once more and shifted, feeling James's arm tighten around him momentarily before releasing him. After blinking a few times, he looked over at the clock. 10:17 PM. He had slept for a good four hours at least, which he figured was bound to throw off his sleeping schedule. Stretching, he yawned and let out a low groan. James stirred next to him before sitting up and pressing a kiss into John's neck. His hand drifted across John's chest and down his stomach. After processing the movement, John figured that sex was hardly a bad way to wake up.

Pulling James into a kiss, John sighed slightly as their lips fitted together like two pieces of a puzzle. He pulled James up onto his lap and felt him instinctively wrap his legs around him. Suddenly, James gave a hard grind down on him. John gasped as he felt his cock begin to swell. Urgency rushed through him, and John knew that if they didn't get to the bedroom now, they would be fucking on the sofa again. He wrapped his arms securely around James's legs before standing up in one fluid movement. Breaking the kiss, James let out a startled yelp as John lifted him up, and John pressed a comforting kiss into his neck. His arms strained slightly – James was heavier than he anticipated – so he strode quickly towards the bedroom. Once they were in front of the bed, John set him down on his back before attacking his mouth once more. James kept his legs wrapped around John's waist as their tongues swiped and flicked at one another.

James broke the kiss and looked up at John with half-lidded eyes. "Take me."

John didn't have to be told twice. Lunging for the nightstand, he yanked out the almost empty lube bottle and a condom. He quickly slicked both his hands as James undressed himself. As soon as both were ready, John reached down and started stroking James's cock with one hand while one finger slipped into his body. James gasped, his arse tensing a touch before he managed to relax again. Carefully, John stretched James finger by finger, making sure he was nice and loose before sticking in another. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was hurt James by being too eager. Not when this occurrence was so seldom. As he stretched James out, he continued to stroke James's cock, switching from firm and fast to light and teasing just to keep James wanting but not letting him orgasm yet.

Suddenly, James bucked down on his hand. "I'm ready," he rasped out, confirming what John already suspected.

Nodding, John removed his fingers and pulled back. He stripped as quickly as possible, needing some attention himself by now. After giving his cock a few strokes to subside the need, he rolled on the condom and made sure it was slick as well. He then slipped in between James's legs, lifting his hips slightly before slowly penetrating him. It felt wonderful, just as good as he remembered, and he couldn't keep himself from groaning out James's name in the process. James moaned in response, clawing at the sheets underneath him, as John sank in to the hilt. Panting, he struggled to keep his self-control as James shifted around a bit to get used to his size. Finally, James nodded signalling John to continue.

Even though James gave him the 'okay,' John didn't move for a moment. He shifted back through his memories, trying to remember how James had ridden him, as it would tell him how James preferred to be taken. Slowly, he began to move in and out of James, increasing his speed over time. He always made sure to aim for the prostate, wanting to subdue any discomfort James might be feeling. Despite himself, James moaned underneath him, writhing as he hooked his legs around John's waist once more. His hands eventually reached around John's back, fingers digging into his skin. John moved precisely – hard and fluid, but not nearly as hard as James would take him. If James wanted it harder, John figured he would say something. After all, he had never had a problem with speaking his mind before.

James moved perfectly with him. Every now and again, his arse would tighten when John struck his prostate, telling him that he was doing something right. James raked his fingers down John's back, causing John to gasp and buck slightly harder. Eventually, James reached down and began to stroke himself. It only took a few pulls before James was coming onto himself, moaning out John's name in the process. The sight – the sound – the feel - it was all overwhelming for John, who watched in fascination as James lost himself in pleasure. And to know that he was the one who sent him over filled John with a sense of pride. And yet… He leaned down, still thrusting into James's body, and kissed him gently as he felt that knot begin to tighten painfully. James responded eagerly, and it didn't take John too long before he spilled into the condom while letting his moan get muffled by the kiss. Groaning, he pulled out of James's body and sat back on the bed.

After a few more kisses, they split apart. Neither of them said a word as they went through their post-coital routines. John disposed of the soiled condom and cleaned himself up while James showered to get all the cum off his skin. But they eventually both wound up back in bed. John flopped down next to James, sliding under the covers. Closing his eyes, he let out a deep sigh, contented and now sleepy once more. James shifted next to him, and he cracked one eye open to see James looking at him. He closed it again before inquiring softly, "Is there something you need?"

"No. Nothing at all," James replied before shifting once more.

John opened an eye again to find James was facing the ceiling now. Letting the eye slide shut, he sank into the mattress, planning to drift off peacefully. James shifted again… and again… and then a third time… and then a fourth. Finally, John forced himself to look at James again. He had returned to looking at John, his elbow propping his head up. Snapping his eyes shut for the final time, John prompted, "Are you going to go to sleep, or–?"

Cutting him off, James responded, "No. Not yet, at least. I'm going to stay awake for a little bit longer."

"Well if that's the case, could you be still if you're going to stay in bed?" John inquired. His voice wasn't bitter – more so pleading than anything.

"Yes. My apologies," James answered.

Grateful for the apology, John hummed in acknowledgement as sleep tugged at his body once more. He was slightly amused that his plan for waking up actually wound up backfiring on him. In fact, he was more tired now than he had been when he woke up. As he slipped off, he felt the faint brushing of fingers as his fringe was moved out of his face. It was a strange sensation – one that was incredibly intimate – and he wondered if he had imagined it. Even so, he stirred slightly and smiled softly before finally falling asleep once more.