Author's Note: Sorry this update took forever. I was facing a block, but I'm better now. This chapter was inspired by Day Old Hate by City and Colour.

Thank you to all the reviews! They make writing worthwhile.

Enjoy!

"You have to eat," I say. It's Saturday afternoon and Watson has just woken up.

"Coffee," John manages to mutter, turning his face back into my pillow. He's taken my room, bed, and body hostage since the night he told Mary to fuck off. I'm sure he said it much more politely.

"Almost, but no. Food." I try to get up, but Watson pulls me back down.

"Stay," he says and I am powerless to his plea. I melt into his arms. After all, how bad is it to be his hostage? I'm actually quite enjoying it.

"You really should eat." I do say finally.

"You go days without food regularly."

He's right. "And what do you always make me do when you find out?"

John opens one eye and I know I've got him.

"Eat," he says, "I don't want to move or bathe or dress and I don't want you to go."

"Well then, we have a mystery, my dear Watson." I break free of his embrace easily and stand. I put on my robe as well and grab my pipe.

"Oh, god." I hear him say. He doesn't see my smile.

"Lets deduce this simply, shall we?" At that precise moment, there is a knock on the door, as I expected. Upon opening, Mrs Hudson allows herself in with a tray of tea and biscuits. "Elementary, my dear Watson."

"You can hardly take credit-" John tries to argue.

"On the contrary. I predicted your condition yesterday evening after you left. So, I made arrangements with Mrs. Hudson for meals to be brought to the room today and tomorrow. You already missed breakfast, as you can see." I gesture to an uneaten tray in the corner. I then take the fresh tray from Mrs. Hudson and dismiss her.

"Are you mad?" He asks me indignantly. "How must it look for me to be naked in your bed and you to be in nothing but a dressing gown? Holmes-"

"Don't worry so much. Money can buy nearly anything. Including silence."

I can see my words sink in his mind.

"You paid off our maid so she wouldn't tell the police that we're sodomites."

"When you say it like that-"

"Bloody hell, Sherlock! You're fucking mad, I swear."

"But brilliant."

He shoots me a glare that almost instantly softens.

"How on earth do you know me so well?" He asks after a moment.

"I've watched your mind at work for a long time." I say. "You fascinate me. After all these years, I just know you."

He continues his stare for what feels like weeks while he eats. I give him space, sitting in my chair by the window with my pipe and a cup of tea. But I am so drawn to him. Our eyes meet every 5 or 6 seconds. We have no words, but our eyes say so much.

In this moment, I paint a picture of him. Mentally of course. How is hair is tousled. How his arms flex with each movement and his muscles stand out of his chest. How his scars light up his skin with an eerie glow. I lock it away for future reference.

He's so unkempt and lost. Wild.

I will always be drawn to his eyes. They constantly change colour depending on how he feels. Today they are dark and stormy like thunder clouds with bolts of white lightening. Mesmerizing.

I have never seen him quite like this. I cannot read his thoughts the way I do, as if the clouds shield his mind. After all, the eyes are the windows to the mind, heart, and soul.

"Stop looking at me like that," he says, breaking our stare.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm broken." His tears fall like rain. His face is emotionless aside those drops which fall one after another down his face.

I go to him and pull him into my arms. He doesn't speak. I don't think he can.

"What you gave up was very special to you." I say.

I ruined it.

"You are special to me," he whispers, "I may not look it, but I love being here with you. I'm just feeling a lot of things." His tears are more thunderous than before. "I broke her heart."

"You broke yourself too." I say. "Calling off your future... for me. It broke you."

"I'm not broken!" He frees himself from my arms and begins pacing the room. "I'm scared shitless. I'm confused. I'm hopelessly in love with you. And if anyone finds out we'll both die."

"There's always chance of imprison-" He kisses me and we fall back into bed.

"Just shut up, Holmes." He murmurs into my lips. I do shut up after that.

I kiss him again and again. He sighs deeply and holds my face in his hands. There's no place I'd rather be in this entire world than underneath Watson. When my lips are on his, the world is invisible. My mind is off. There are no mysteries except the language of his lips, the way we say I love you without words.

"Take me," he whispers and I don't believe I heard him correctly. "I want you inside me." He clarifies, knowing and reading my mind.

It's as if I've been electrocuted. Warm arousal ignites my veins in waves as his words roll over me. The shock reverberates through me.

"Don't ask me if I'm sure." He looks at me then, his eyes tell me Because I am. Then his lips repeat the message on my jaw, then my neck. He's sucking on the hollow of my neck and collar, sure to leave a mark. I've never been more turned on in my life.

An imaginary switch is flipped in my mind.

My hands roam his body, feeling every inch of skin. I rake my fingers down his back when he bites down suddenly. A low moan leaves me as my hands find his perfect arse, the skin so soft and plump. I pull our groins together, the thin fabric of my robe hardly hindering the sensation.

"Don't tease me," he begs and that alone makes me impossibly harder. "I need you."

I leave him for only a moment to grab the oil on the night stand. I pour some on my fingers.

"This will hurt, darling." I tell him before slowly teasing his entrance.

"Please," and he sounds already in utter agony. I push one finger inside and his response is instant. His fingers grips my shoulders so tightly I'm certain there will be bruises. Oh, how he loves to mark me. I wait a moment before I move the appendage out then back in. Stretching him is so slow. I want to be sure he isn't in any sort of discomfort, but I know he will hurt.

I have three fingers in him now and he's rutting back against them, his lips parted and his breathing desperately uneven. "Now," he says breathlessly. He helps me take off my robe and discard it to the floor. It's his hand that pours the oil onto my erection and strokes me once, my breath hitching at the much needed friction.

He pulls me on top of him, our bodies flush together. He wraps his long legs around my hips pulling our groins together. We moan simultaneously. I need this so badly. I hear his words through the kiss he gives me. He sucks in my bottom lip and twists his fingers in my hair. Now. The word rings through the air, floating around us.

I position myself and inhale sharply before slowly pressing in. His breath whooshes out in a low "Oh." I feel like I'm moving in slow motion, trying to be as careful as possible not to hurt him more than necessary.

When I'm in all the way, so very deep inside him, I let out that breath. "Oh, John."

We stay like that forever. Or what feels like it. We share kiss after kiss, accepting that we can never go back now. This new connection has changed everything.

His tension slowly subsides and I feel his relaxation flow through his body to mine. We are one. We move as one, our hips rocking together. Everything is so slow, soft, sweet. This means something more than what it is. We truly are making love.

So many infinite kisses. I love you. Harder. Faster. Slower. There. There. There.

Our thrusts pick up and slow down and I know I'm hitting that sweet spot inside of him. His head throws back in pure ecstasy and my name falls from his lips over and over.

"Sherlock."

My head is spinning, dizzy from pleasure. He's so tight and warm and inviting, each thrust matched and each moan echoed. Neither of us want this to end, but already I feel that warm tightness in my stomach and he's clenching around me sporadically. We're so close.

Our pace builds and maybe I imagine it, but I swear I hear thunder. Each thrust brings us closer and heats our skin. I reach down between us and grasp his leaking cock. He gasps and moans, his body already shuddering from the pleasure.

"Come with me," I manage to whisper because I'm almost there and I need him to be with me.

We kiss for an eternity and everything slows again. Now.