Author's Note: Thank you so much for your continued support! Also, thank you to those who left comments. They were a nice little surprise. Anyways, here's the next chapter; I hope that you enjoy it!

Sherlock woke up the next morning in John's arms. He glanced over and smiled at the smaller man who was curled around him. John's arms were draped across Sherlock's torso, pulling him close to him. The sun's rays streamed through the windows, lighting the relatively small room. Sherlock wanted to get up, but he didn't want to get up before John was up. This was their first day of their honeymoon - something that was important to most people- so he didn't want to mess it up. He wanted to show John that things like this were important to him, too, even if he rarely said so. Well. Maybe things like this weren't important to him, but they were important to John, so he wanted to make it special.

John's eyes fluttered open a few minutes later. He blinked a few times before he realized that Sherlock was in front of him. The corner of his lips curled upwards as he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's neck.

"How did you sleep, love?" he asked.

John didn't normally like to use nicknames or "pet" names for the people that he was close to, but the word slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. However, it didn't feel wrong to use it. Sherlock was his love, after all. He hadn't met anyone who made him feel so…at peace. When he was with Sherlock, he knew that he was the "person" that he was supposed to be. He didn't need to put up any facades for the other man. He could simply be himself.

"Very well, thank you." He ran his hand through John's short, blond, hair. "How did you sleep?"

"Quite well. I don't think that I have ever slept that well."

Sherlock rolled over so he was facing John. He chuckled when a thought popped into his mind.

"What are you laughing at?" John asked, his eyes sparkling.

"Just...last night. It was quite fun."

John blushed very faintly at the thought of the night before. He had imagined that moment for a very long time, but he was wrong: the real thing was definitely much, much, better. Sherlock had a surprisingly fantastic skill set when it came to being intimate. The smaller man wasn't quite sure how Sherlock had learned some of those moves, but he figured that he wouldn't ask. Well, he wouldn't ask yet, anyways. Sherlock watched John carefully, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Do you not agree?" Sherlock asked.

John's blush became even more pronounced.

"No...I think that it was fun."

Sherlock kissed him on the lips, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pulled away and grinned.

"You're very skilled at being intimate, John." He said, suddenly feeling bashful. He didn't feel like he could use the word "sex". Mycroft had said that sex alarmed Sherlock in some way, but he was wrong. Sex didn't alarm him at all. The word "sex" did. Doing something and telling people about it were two very different things, even if the person who you did it with was laying right across from you.

John didn't mind Sherlock's bashfulness, though. If anything, he thought that it was endearing. It was interesting to see what made Sherlock uncomfortable. A bunch of murderers weren't any problem for him, but talking about sex was very much a problem for him. He chuckled softly to himself, amused by the consulting detective.

"Why are you laughing?" Sherlock asked. His eyebrows shot up.

John tried to stop laughing, but it wasn't any use. He chuckled a bit more before finally composing himself.

"I was just laughing at you."

The consulting detective crossed his arms and pouted, clearly not happy with the doctor before him.

"I am not funny, John."

"I know...I was just laughing at something about you."

"What about me is funny?"

John waved his hand, trying to dismiss the conversation. Of course, Sherlock wouldn't have any of John's excuses.

"Tell me, John."

He sighed and rubbed his thumb along Sherlock's cheekbone.

"I was just amused by what bothered you, Sher. You don't have any problems going against a murderer, or a villain of some sort, but you don't like saying the word sex. I know that you do say it, but you usually don't like to say it. You prefer to say 'intimate' instead."

"I do not do that," Sherlock said, his cheeks going red.

John raised his eyebrows.

"Are you saying that I'm lying to you?" John smiled, hoping to calm Sherlock down again. Sherlock didn't mind being teased occasionally, but he didn't like it when the comments thrown at him seemed like insults. He might put up a "strong" front, but John knew that he was actually much more vulnerable than he let on. He wanted people to think that he couldn't be bothered by anything, really, but John knew that he did.

"Of course not."

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock gently. They kissed for a few moments, lost in the sensation of the other's lips. After a few more moments, John broke away, his breath coming out a bit more ragged than before. Sherlock groaned softly and opened his eyes.

"Why did you pull away?" he asked, pouting.

"Because...I'm hungry."

It was true. John hadn't eaten much on the plane last night. He had wanted to, but he had never actually gotten around to it. He supposed he was too distracted by Sherlock to actually eat anything. He wasn't complaining, though. Plane food was never that appealing.

"Oh, right...you've barely eaten." Sherlock blinked and backed away more. "Would you like to go downstairs and get something to eat? I remember there being a sign about breakfast or something like that."

"Oh, yes, that sounds very good."

With that, he got out of bed, trying to ignore the fact that Sherlock was staring at his bare body.

"I can feel you staring at me, you know," he said lightly as he took their suitcase and opened it. He rifled through their clothes until he found something that he wanted to wear.

"Don't act like you don't like it. We both know that you do." He said lightly, teasing his husband.

John blushed softly and stood back up with the outfit that he had decided to wear.

"You know that I like it."

His blush deepened as he slid on a pair of red pants, realizing that this pair of pants were one of Sherlock's favorites. Sherlock hummed loudly once they were completely on.

"Those do look fantastic on you, John. Did you know that?"

John wiggled his butt in affirmation. Sherlock crawled to the edge of the bed while John was still facing away from him. He reached out for his butt and gave it a light pinch. John jumped a bit, completely taken off guard.

"You have the most beautiful arse, John."

"So you've said." Despite John's words, he smiled and pulled on a pair of black shorts. Sherlock sighed and shook his head.

"There should be one of those law things about your red pants- you should not be allowed to cover them."

John turned around so he could see Sherlock. The detective was laying on his stomach, arms crossed in front of him, his chin resting on the top of one of his arms. His face was lightly flushed.

"I don't know if you would want everyone to see my pants, though, Sher. I think you might not want people to look at me in that way."

John took a few steps towards Sherlock and ran his hand through the detective's hair. Sherlock leaned into the touch, comforted by it. He never knew how much he liked his hair being touched until John Watson came along. John made Sherlock want to be touched all the time, which was odd for him. He never knew how much he craved attention - physical attention that was - until this army doctor came along.

"That is true. I don't want anyone touching you," Sherlock admitted.

"I know," he smiled softly.

I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Feel free to leave a comment telling me what you thought! As always, thanks for your continued support. It truly means a lot to me.