Due to his warped sleeping schedule the day before, John woke up at six in the morning. He felt James sleeping beside him and closed his eyes, enjoying the presence as he rested for another two hours. Finally, James stirred next to him, which actually forced John to rise out of bed. He would make breakfast, as per usual… probably omelettes today since he honestly didn't want to put forth the effort for much more than that… while James got ready for work. Rising to his feet, he trudged into the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator. He yawned before reaching in and grabbing the eggs.

"What do you want in your omelette?" he called out as he opened the fridge once more.

"The usual," James responded as he headed for the bathroom.

John nodded and grabbed out what he needed – cheese, green peppers, red onions, and some sliced chicken – before proceeding to cook them breakfast. Just as James emerged from the bathroom, he flopped the second omelette onto the plate. "Done," he declared softly.

"Give me a minute," James responded. A couple of minutes later, he emerged in a button-down shirt and jeans. It was the most casual that John had ever seen him. Clearly seeing the confused look John was giving him, he explained, "What? I'm staying home for work today."

Still perplexed, John pressed, "Why?"

James examined him carefully for a long moment. "You honestly have no idea, do you?" he inquired rhetorically.

John replied anyway. "Have no idea about what?"

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing," James responded dismissively, waving a hand as if to brush off the comment. He grabbed his plate and dug in. "I swear that your cooking has gotten better."

John smirked. "Considering just how much I have been cooking since moving in, that shouldn't be much of a surprise," he responded as he finished eating. Honestly, part of him couldn't wait to get back to 221B and cook there. Not that it would impress Sherlock too much, as he didn't eat very often, but maybe he could get a backhanded compliment. After all, he could only ask for so much when it came to Sherlock. Finishing his meal, he put his dishes into the dishwasher. "Did you leave any hot water for me?" John teased, knowing James would understand the reference.

"That was one time, it was at a hotel and not in my flat, and I simply had to steam up the bathroom in order to clear out my sinuses. It's not my fault that the hotel didn't have enough hot water to last them the entire night and then the next morning. They should have invested in larger water heaters," James snapped back defensively. John grinned "God, I should have never told you about it."

Chuckling under his breath, John waltzed into the bathroom. He quickly stripped and tossed his clothes into the hamper. After checking for hot water, he jumped into the shower and took his time. He always loved taking a nice, long, slow shower whenever possible, and James could more than afford this little luxury for John. When he was done, he slowly trudged out of the shower. He shivered as the cold air nipped at his skin and quickly wrapped a towel around his waist after drying off enough. As he exited, he noticed James sitting at the dining table with his laptop in front of him. James glanced up before doing a double-take. John smirked before sauntering over, feeling up to harassing James just a bit.

"What are you doing?" he prompted, looking over James's shoulder to see his laptop.

Without missing a beat, James flicked his fingers over the track pad. Every single window on his screen flew off the screen, hiding from John's view. "It's none of your business," he answered a bit curtly.

John backed away immediately. "Sorry to tread in your territory," he responded. Clearly, he had ventured past his invisible boundary. He rounded the table and jested, "You really don't have to work from home, you know. Even without Moran, I think I can survive."

"I just didn't feel like going in today," James responded matter-of-factly, his eyes fastened onto his laptop screen once more. "So sue me." He glanced back up and gawked for but a second before forcing his eyes back down. "Go get dressed," he ordered.

"I'm sorry. Am I distracting you?" John inquired teasingly.

Without looking up from his laptop, James replied, "You know you are."

"I'll go get changed then," John responded, turning around and heading towards the bedroom. He let his towel drop slightly to show his arse, and he was rewarded by dead silence in the room. Trying to look innocent, he glanced behind him at James, who had already shut his laptop and was stalking over to John. "Something wrong?"

Instead of verbally answering, James stood in front of John and captured his lips in a bruising kiss. The two of them staggered backwards and into the bedroom. James ripped the towel away from John's body before pushing him back onto the bed. Gazing up at James, he watched as James ripped his clothes off swiftly before leaning down and kissing John once more. He reached for the lube, taking it and coating one hand. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed John's half-hard cock and stroked it into a full erection.

"James," John called out in need.

James leaned down and kissed him softly. After he broke it, he murmured, "I know, John."

With that, John widened his legs to give James better access. He let out a low moan as he felt the first finger brush his prostate. Very slowly, James worked him open. Each finger slid in carefully, and each thrust precisely hit his prostate. Once he was stretched out completely, James slicked himself. As he did so, he confessed, "I want to take you bare."

John shifted uncomfortably as he heard this. He didn't want to clean himself out, which was something he made very clear to James from the get-go. "James," he started to object.

"Please, John," James said softly. "I'll clean you out myself if that's what it takes to convince you."

John frowned as he heard the touch of desperation in James's voice. Of course, he would never be outright with how he felt, and John was a bit baffled about why it was so important. He paused a moment. After all, James always requested permission – he always placed John's wishes first – and he had used condoms every other time. He let out a low sigh as James waited, clearly willing to accept either answer. John could say, "No," right now, and James would let it drop. But he couldn't bring himself to do so. Besides, it was a good compromise. John had objected to cleaning himself out, but if James did it, it could wind up turning into something a bit more fun.

"Alright."

James let out a long sigh, leaning down and kissing John yet again. "Thank you," he managed to say before flipping John on his side.

Before John could ask what he was doing, James slid up and inside of him. Gasping as he was filled, John shifted a bit. The angle was strange – like nothing he had ever experienced before – and the pace was slower than he was used to. James took his time to fill John before pulling almost entirely out and slowly thrusting back in. John gripped at the blankets before reaching down to stroke himself. Normally, he would stroke at the rhythm of James's thrusts, but those were far too slow. His speed was fast and rough, and he let out a low moan. And then his hands were suddenly batted out of the way. Immediately, he went to object only for James to start stroking him. Of course, it was in tempo with the far-too-slow thrusts. Honestly, he wasn't sure how much of this he could take. It was so different from their previous times, which had all been raw and rough. But this felt like a connection was being formed between the two of them, and that struck a chord deep inside of John. He didn't know how much more he could take. It was all too… intimate.

"James," he finally murmured, unable to take much more. "Please, James. Faster. Harder. God – anything but this."

"No," James responded, much to John's surprise. "I want you to remember this. How I took you slowly. How it felt to be filled by me. How you begged for me. I want you to remember every second for as long as it lasts."

Shuddering, John went pliant. He collapsed into the mattress, letting James touch and fuck him as he pleased. But for the first time, he actually committed himself to remembering it. He felt every thrust into his body, actually taking in the length and girth of James's cock. He memorised the feeling of pleasure shooting up his spine as his prostate was hit. Moaning, he tightened his arse around James's cock, and everything became even more intense. John was panting hard, writhing underneath every thrust and ministration. Rolling his hips in circular motions, James continued to slowly fuck John. John noticed the knot in his stomach becoming tighter and tighter. Before he even knew what was happening, he felt himself tip over the edge into unadulterated pleasure. Moaning out James's name, John came onto the sheets. Despite everything, James maintained his slow rhythm until towards the very end. John knew his orgasm was coming when his thrusts became jerky and faster. Despite what he thought, though, James pulled out and came onto John's back instead of inside of him.

He blinked a few times and looked at James in confusion. "But I thought you wanted to come inside of me."

"I did, but I couldn't get the fact that you didn't want me to out of my head. So I didn't," he responded before leaning down and kissing John. "But I came on you, so my offer still stands."

John smiled as he heard this. "I can clean myself up, thank you," he responded.

"Doesn't mean you want to," James pointed out.

Pausing a moment, John debated on his independence or an opportunity to feel that he was actually loved by this man. His resolve broke. "Fine then. Clean me up."

"Let's go for a walk," James suddenly declared, catching John off-guard.

John cocked his head to the side. Well, that was a new one. Then again, the park and café had been new as well. Maybe it was just James's way of showing that he, to an extent, trusted John. "Sure. Why not? Anywhere in particular or just out and about?"

"How about we just see where we wind up?" James responded. "I'll call a taxi and have him drop us off somewhere else in London. There's nothing to see here anyway."

Nodding, John went and fetched his shoes as James called for a cab. They headed down about ten minutes later to find it waiting for them outside of the flat. Without saying a word, they both clambered inside. John sat in silence, closing his eyes and just enjoying James's presence. It was strange how much their relationship had developed. Now, they were at the point that just sitting there with James was somehow soothing. Neither of them looked at the other person, each of them staring out his own window. Eventually, the cab came to a stop in a busy district of London. John was familiar with this part of town, and he emerged from the cab and took in a deep breath of fresh air.

"John," James called out, catching his attention.

Quickly, John headed over to the sidewalk. "Aren't you worried about Mycroft seeing us?"

"I know what incompetent people he has looking out for us," James retorted. "Besides…" He pulled out a London cap and shoved it onto John's head, tugging it down by the bill teasingly. By the time John looked back up, James was putting on a matching one. "You make a lovely tourist," he jested, grinning.

"At least one of us does," John joked in return.

Holding out his hand, James responded, "Come on then, you git."

John chuckled and grabbed it instinctively. Of course, it served as merely a guise. James had explained it thoroughly the last time they had gone out. Mycroft's people shouldn't be looking for John, as it made no logical sense for John to be allowed out and about, but in case they were to stumble across someone who was the same size and shape as John Watson, they would be thrown off by the holding hands with another man. Since John verbally objected again and again to being gay, they would have no cause to send someone in to get a closer look. That had been, of course, under the assumption that they spotted John at all. In fact, this was the first time that John was in an area where he knew CCTV cameras were set up. Normally, Moriarty was a lot more careful about taking John out and about. Something was different about today. He just didn't know what.

"Is it your birthday today?" John inquired suddenly.

Looking at him in confusion, James asked, "Why would you think that?"

"Well, you said that I didn't realise something earlier today, and this is hardly a normal activity for us. I thought perhaps today was your birthday," John explained.

"Maybe it's your birthday."

John scoffed. "Entirely wrong part of the year for that."

"Global warming does wonders, doesn't it? Feels like it's an entirely different part of the year when it is, in fact, not. Happy birthday, Johnny," James jested, grinning widely.

John rolled his eyes. "You're a right git, you know?" he responded. "That was a perfectly fine guess, all things considered."

"I suppose it was, but that doesn't make it any more correct," James informed him, tugging him over. He just barely dodged a businessman in a hurry, and he heard James huff in irritation. "If it was your birthday, though, what do you want to do, Johnny-boy? Go to a café? Nice restaurant? Stay in and get takeaway?"

John shrugged. Well, this was hardly difficult to answer. After all, he had already told James about his sexual desires. This was nothing compared to that. Besides, this was more hypothetical than the sex acts were. "A birthday with you, I am assuming," he murmured before thinking about it. "I'm not entirely sure. I think we would have to go out to a nice restaurant – one only you could afford – on your behest. And I would probably object, saying it's too expensive or I'm not properly dressed or something. And you would, of course, convince me otherwise as you always do. I would try to buy the least expensive meal, but you would know what I really wanted and insist on me eating that instead. Then there would be dessert, which we really wouldn't be hungry for, so we'd have to split it. After that, we would head back to the flat. I expect you would have a plan that would start at that point."

"You're wrong with a couple of points," James informed him.

Cocking his head to the side, John inquired, "How so?"

"The meals we would have eaten at that restaurant would have been small. They always are at restaurants like that. So we would be hungry for the dessert, but I would still insist on sharing it with you anyway, because those sorts of desserts are always too rich in taste to eat all by oneself," he explained matter-of-factly. "But you are right on my plan. I would have fucked you into the mattress so hard that night, Johnny, that you wouldn't have been able to walk the next day."

"And what would we have done if it was your birthday?" he asked curiously, enjoying this conversation. It was innocent enough and so improbable that it made things easy to talk about. After all, it wasn't as if John was ever going to get to be there for James's birthday, so what was the harm talking about it? What was the harm pretending a bit longer? An ache suddenly stung John's heart, and he shoved those thoughts aside.

Humming, James tugged his hand again and turned them down a different street. "We would have gotten takeaway delivered, although I doubt that we would have ever been able to eat it. We would be going at each other like tomorrow wouldn't come. Do everything that you've ever wanted – that I've ever wanted. It'd be like the last week or so only on steroids. Literally. I'm pretty sure we would have to take something to do everything we wanted to do."

With that, John burst out laughing. James joined in soon after. "Oh, God," he finally managed to say. "You're a riot."

James settled down as well, tugging John's hand again and making them cross the street. "You're just getting that now? I knew you were a bit slow, Johnny-boy, but that is taking it to a whole new level."

"… And now you're a git."

Grinning at him, James turned left and kept walking. Suddenly, he changed the subject. "I was right about you, you know."

"Now you're seriously an arsehole," John snapped, glaring at him.

"No, no, no. Not about the slow part. However, you do need to try to keep up, Johnny, or else you'll prove me right," James responded. "You're interesting like I knew you would be."

John stumbled, having missed the uneven crack in the sidewalk. Once he regained his balance, he looked at James and responded, "Well, of course I'm interesting. I'm living with Sherlock Holmes. Did you honestly believe that he would just let anyone be his flatmate?"

"I suppose not. Although it is a shame."

Confused, John pressed, "What's a shame?"

"That he found you first. Think about it, Johnny-boy. Just how different would our lives be if I had been the one to find you?" James pointed out.

John laughed. "You wouldn't have given me the time of day. Had a limp at the time. I wouldn't have been very useful to you, and I doubt that I would have been able to hide my moral compass enough to work for you. You found a good man in Moran, you know. You probably shouldn't let him go so easily."

Humming in response, James tugged John yet again and pulled him into an alleyway. And now that John was starting to look around, he realised that he recognised everything around here. But what were they doing…? Suddenly, James stopped in his tracks. John halted as well, looking over at James in confusion before looking at the spot where James was. His heart dropped. There it stood in front of them, just down the alleyway and across the main road. 221B Baker Street. Instantly, John began to put the pieces together.

"You knew," John accused, turning on his heels to face James. "Today was the last day. You knew the whole time, and you never told me."

"Why should I? We were having a perfectly fine time without you knowing. And it hardly would have changed anything anyway," James responded coolly. "But you're home now, so you should probably get on inside. Mycroft's probably in a tizzy right now, trying to figure out when I'm going to call him to tell him where to pick you up."

Balking at him, John pressed, "That's it?"

Confused, James responded, "That was our deal."

"But-"

"You knew this would happen," James cut in.

John replied, "Yeah, I know, but…"

After a moment's pause, James prompted, "But what?"

"Without a fight? Without talking about it? Just… just this?" John inquired, jabbing at 221B.

"This isn't a romance novel or Hollywood film, John," James informed him. "What more were you expecting? A sudden love declaration? That we would run away together? Drive off into the sunset, so madly in love, and live happily-ever-after? That's childish at best."

Scowling, John snapped, "But we haven't talked about this at all."

"What would we have even said?"

John shrugged and frantically looked about. "No clue. Perhaps what will happen now? Or should I just pretend that nothing happened between us?"

James stared at John for a long moment, and John immediately began to see Moriarty emerge. "Pretend nothing happened. That would be best, all things considered."

John felt like he had just been slapped in the face. Of course, there was no way for them to continue this relationship… if that's even what it was. More like a one-sided romance. An unrequited love. Besides, James was right. This had been a long time coming, and John knew the day would arrive when he would have to return to 221B. Hell, part of him had actually been looking forward to it. But at this very moment, John only felt a bit sick. He didn't want this to end – to be severed so definitely from James Moriarty. But what alternative did he have? It's not as if they could sneak in visits, especially with Sherlock being who he was. He would have worked everything out in the matter of minutes. No. This was for the best.

Turning to face James, John pressed, "At least one last kiss."

"Not worried about Sherlock seeing you?" James pressed.

"Not in the least," John responded, knowing that this alleyway was cast in shadows. Sherlock wouldn't have been able to see anything even if he had binoculars.

Humming, James stepped forward and lifted a hand to cup John's cheek. John's heart began to race, electricity shooting through him, as he leaned forward. Their lips met, tentative and slow at first. Eventually, John's arms wrapped around James's neck and drew him in closer. James moaned and wrapped his arms around John's waist, locking their bodies together. They kissed for a long moment, their tongues sliding smoothly past one another, each dancing to his own tempo and yet in perfect rhythm with the other. Slowly, however, their kiss broke. Once it did, they untangled themselves. John took a step back, his heart aching already. Putting on his stoic front, he gave a nod to James. "It's been something else."

"That's an understatement," James responded with a chuckle, offering a smile. "Goodbye, Johnny-boy."

"Goodbye, James."

With that, John turned around. His heart was shredding, being ripped in two with every step. God, whatever pain he had imaged before was nothing like the pain he was actually experiencing. He slowly headed towards 221B, checking both sides of the street before crossing. Once at the door, he put his hand on the doorknob and froze. This was it. Once the door closed, the month he spent getting to know James would be over. It would eventually fade in his memory until it felt more like a dream than reality. Part of him wanted to turn around and give one last wave. Another part of him was scared that James had already left. That he wasn't there anymore, and John would turn to see no one. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he turned the doorknob and entered 221B.

When he heard the door shut behind him, he leaned against it and let out a soft whimper, smothering it with his fist. He headed up the stairs, not wanting Mrs Hudson to come across him to just yet. He reached the flat to find the door open and the place empty. Sherlock must have gotten called away for an urgent case, because he had left most of the lights on. Much to his surprise, John was relieved. He honestly didn't know how he would be able to handle Sherlock right now. Turning to leave, he caught a glimpse of something. He looked over to see his army rucksack sitting there. Of course. James would have thought to ensure that it was brought over. Smiling softly, he reached down and picked it up, slinging it onto his shoulder and heading upstairs.

Nothing had changed about his bedroom. Hell, Mrs Hudson had even made sure that it didn't get dusty, which he was grateful for. Dropping his rucksack on the ground, John flopped down on his bed and felt how empty it was. No one next to him. He tossed an arm over his eyes, blocking out what light came in through the window, as he tried to get to sleep.