Author's Note:
A mostly feel good and fuzzy chapter. Many thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!
After the Skype call was over, the days, weeks and even months went by fairly quickly to Sherlock's surprise. He kept the flat clean, continued to make wedding arrangements with his Mum, set up an office, met with Sarah biweekly, kept in contact with John any way possible, kept up to date on Mycroft's people rounding up the rest of Moriarty's network, converted John's room into a nursery/guest room for when Sarah would start staying over, and he did a lot of research on parenting and bought a few books he thought would actually prove useful.
Sarah was about a month away from being due so Sherlock decided it was time to build the crib. Only it wasn't going well. Whoever had designed the instruction manual was a bloody idiot. He growled his frustration and threw a rod across the room. Hamish lifted his head and then went back to sleep on Sherlock's chair.
The planning had, honestly, been Hell. Keeping secrets from Sherlock wasn't anything he had wanted to do but he figured it was going to be worth it in the long run. Surprising Sherlock after thinking they wouldn't be able to see each other was what he had been looking forward to. During the entire trip he was too excited to sleep and instead settled for shifting restlessly anytime he could.
London made him smile and he managed to nab a taxi to the flat without a problem. He was in his uniform, his bag thrown over his right shoulder, as he entered the flat silently and winced at the sound of something being thrown around upstairs. Not good. John hesitantly moved into the flat and smiled softly. "D'you want some help with that, then?" He let his bag slide to the floor and he crossed his arms over his flat with a grin.
No, it couldn't be. Impossible. Sherlock scrambled up off the floor so quickly he almost tripped over the parts by his feet. "John?" He asked as he spun around. He took the few steps toward his fiancé and embraced him in a tight hug. He had so many questions but right now he didn't care about them and just held on to his dear doctor. "I've missed you."
The hug knocked the air out of him and he leaned heavily against Sherlock, grinning as he pressed his face against Sherlock's shoulder. "Hi," he muttered, returning the tight embrace. "Christ, I've missed you." He let his eyes slam shut. This was probably the best idea he had ever had because seeing Sherlock like this, happy and excited and caught off guard, and it made his heart swell. "How're you?" He should have pulled away to study Sherlock's face but he kept his face buried in his fiancé's shoulder, inhaling the scent of home.
Here…John was really here in his arms. It was so unexpected but wonderful. For awhile, he just held onto his fiancé, his head resting on the army doctor's head comfortably. "So much better now that you are here." Finally, he let go so he could take in John's whole form, hands still resting on his fiancé's shoulders. He smiled. "Are you home for good?" He asked hopefully.
John's smile faltered slightly and he moved his hands to run down Sherlock's chest as he shook his head. "Just a week and then I go back to finish out my tour." He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "But it's a week, that's awhile. I get to spend it with you. It was a surprise." He leaned forward and place a chaste kiss on Sherlock's lips. "And I can help finish setting everything up for Amy... and hopefully see Sarah one of these days."
A week. That was better than only a couple days in some hotel in the desert. John here with him at the flat, what a brilliant surprise. "Well, the only thing left really is the crib. Probably a good thing you came when you did, I was about to throw the whole damn thing out the window." He smirked a bit. "I'm supposed to see Sarah in two days, I'm sure you'd be more than welcome to come as well."
"We can build it together," John laughed as he moved across the flat, picking up the thrown piece with a glance over his shoulder in Sherlock's direction. "Shouldn't be too hard, should it? There's directions. I think we'll be fine." He moved across the flat heavily, his combat boots clunking against the floor without grace. "And I'd love to go," he commented absently as he studied all the parts to the crib. There were a lot more pieces than he thought. "You didn't throw out the instructions, did you?" He turned to look at Sherlock with a hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
The noise of John walking, startled Hamish awake. The cat blinked up at the unknown presence, jumped off the chair and then ran into the kitchen. "Well, he didn't hiss at you. That's something." Sherlock commented as he watched the cat for a moment. He turned his attention back John and nodded to the piece of paper on the floor. "They are right there. Maybe you can make sense of them." He nudged a piece of the crib with his foot, his lip puckering into a slight pout.
"That bloody cat," John muttered, glancing in the direction it had run off. "Has it gotten any better? It needs to calm down." He crouched down and picked up the piece of paper. Directions should be straight forward. These were practically written in Japanese. "The... Hell?" His eyes raised to Sherlock and he shrugged. "This makes no sense. At all." The paper was dropped to the floor as John turned to look at the crib pieces spread out on the floor. "I guess we could just wing it and see what happens? Aren't you a genius?" He kept his head lowered to take in all of the pieces. "Shouldn't you be able to, I don't know, put these all together in your mind or something?"
"He has gotten better actually. Doesn't destroy things anymore, I think he'll be okay. Hamish just isn't a people's person." Sherlock shrugged and couldn't help but smirk. "My dear doctor, flip the paper over and you'll find the instructions in English on the reverse side. All the parts are labeled with a letter with a picture but…" he sighed and shrugged again, "…apparently I can't seem to figure it out." He cleared his throat, trying not get flustered over such a silly thing. "It's just another solar system to me," he muttered.
"Sod off," John muttered as he ripped the instructions off the floor and flipped them over. A smirk was on his lips and he read through the instructions twice before looking back at the parts. "Right. So... I feel like it might be a bad omen if a bloody genius can't even put this thing together. We'll try anyway," he stated with a nod. He slowly started to sort out the pieces into piles before slowly figuring out where each one went. "Have you got a screwdriver or something?" He turned to Sherlock and ran his forearm across his forehead. "Need one to keep putting this together. Go find one and then help me put this together, lovely husband." He slowly started unbuttoning his over shirt before tossing it somewhere on the floor behind him.
Sherlock huffed at John's words. He wasn't an architect. Building things wasn't something that interested in him. "The screw driver is right…" he searched the floor for a moment, before picking it up and offering to John, "…here." He smirked a bit and then sat down on the floor to see if maybe attempting to build the crib would go smoother a second time around.
After double checking the piles of pieces John moved to sit beside Sherlock on the floor with a sigh. "See those pieces to your right? I'm going to need them soon so make sure they don't run off." He grabbed two different pieces and slowly started attaching them. "The flat looks different," he commented with a small shrug. "Very different."
Sherlock put the indicated parts in pile near John. "Well, I've moved a lot of stuff out and into my office. It's a 'chaotic mess' as Mycroft puts it." He shrugged and smirked slightly. "And I may have had help from one of the baby books. Things you shouldn't have, sharp edges covered, electrical sockets also covered, special locks on cabinet doors, that kind of thing. I also got one of those gates, to put up by the stairs."
The amount of work Sherlock had done shocked John. He was taking this seriously, more seriously than even John had thought about himself. "That's... amazing." He lifted his gaze to his fiancé and laughed slightly in disbelief. "You've really prepared for Amy." The shock restricted his chest and he dropped the screwdriver and the connected pieces he'd been working on to lean forward and meet Sherlock's lips.
The work had kept him mostly preoccupied and helped not think about John being away. However, Sherlock couldn't wait to start working cases again. To have John home. To have his normal life back. It would be a bit different with the baby, but things shouldn't change too much he figured. His thoughts dispersed when he felt John's lips on his. He smiled and returned the kiss, eyes closing instantly.
It had been so long since he had really kissed Sherlock and John took advantage of it, letting his tongue roam the other man's mouth eagerly before pulling away to take a breath. "Good. That was good," he stated while licking his lips. While being distracted by Sherlock was certainly something he wouldn't have minded, he figured it would probably be better to finish putting the crib together before he did anything else. "Been practicing with your pillow?" He asked with a chuckle as he turned back to the crib pieces and started putting another two together.
Sherlock savored the kiss, not remembering the last time they had just made out a little. It was a nice change of pace. He smiled at John as his eyes opened when the kiss ended. The smile turned into a frowned at the question. "No…do people do that?" He eyed the instructions and the diagrams and picked up a few pieces but couldn't get them to fit. He sighed, wondering why this was so difficult. John made it look easy. He discarded the pieces back onto the floor. He was about to stand up when Hamish pounced into his lap and laid down. He scratched the cat behind the ears absently.
"Yeah, people do that all the time," John muttered with a shrug. "I did when I was younger, I know that. Wanted to impress my first girlfriend." He started putting a few more pieces together with ease and sat back with a proud grin. "There, we've got the base," he glanced at Sherlock and bit his bottom lip as the cat jumped into his lap. "Think I could pet him?" He lifted a hand hesitantly and moved it toward Hamish.
Practicing kissing on a pillow, really? And people called him a 'freak'. Sherlock glanced down to Hamish and shrugged. "That's up to him. The only other person he has let pet him is Mrs. Hudson. He usually bites everyone else." The cat gave a warning growl, its tail lashing behind him. "Well, at least he gave you a warning. More than what he gives most people. Maybe he'll warm up to you." He hoped so. He didn't want to have get rid of Hamish because he had become quite attached to the cat, though he wouldn't admit.
John snatched his hand back quickly, glancing up at Sherlock with a nervous smile. "I hope he does warm up to me. I want you to keep him." He turned his gaze back to the crib pieces. At least the bottom was already put together, all that was left was to put the surrounding pieces around and put the mattress in. "Want to take a break? I am craving a good cuppa." He turned to rest on his knees, ignoring Hamish as he straddled Sherlock's thighs and met his lips again, deciding that making out with Sherlock again was more important than anything else.
Before Hamish could bite John, Sherlock removed the cat from his lap and instead got bit himself. The cat stalked off but he ignored it because John was kissing him and that was far more interesting. He wrapped his arms around his fiancé, pulling the other man into a slight hug. "I missed you," he murmured behind the kiss.
"I know," John whispered against Sherlock's lips, snaking his tongue in between Sherlock's lips with a breathy sigh. "I missed you too, so much." He let his hands travel to rest on either side of Sherlock's face, tilting the other man's head to get better access to his mouth. He had been so focused on putting the crib together, on helping Sherlock, and he wondered how he managed to not attack his fiancé the moment he walked in the door. He sucked Sherlock's bottom lip into his mouth and nipped at it with a small smile.
After moving some bed parts blindly away, Sherlock laid down on the floor. His hands came to rest on John's back, fingers trailing down it lightly. He still owed John a day of submission and after his accidental affair, he felt like he owed it to the army doctor. "Do you want to take advantage of you being in control now or later?" He asked, pulling away from the kissing momentarily.
John shook his head despite the strong feeling in his gut. He wouldn't tell Sherlock, he never would, but he was constantly thinking about Sherlock cheating on him. It twisted his gut and he had the strong feeling to take Sherlock as rough as he could to remind his fiancé that he was his. Despite those feelings he took a deep breath and met Sherlock's eyes. "No, later. Kissing is fine, perfect." He gave Sherlock a quick kiss, "We haven't done this much and you're a bloody fantastic kisser." He slid one hand to rest on the side of Sherlock's neck while the other tangled in his hair. He let his lips drop to Sherlock's neck as he started to mark him, not holding back and attacking the skin beneath his mouth roughly.
Only kissing, hm? Sherlock smirked a bit and tilted his neck up so John could reach more of it. He ran one hand up his fiancé's back, to his neck and then finally came to run through the short hair on top of the army doctor's head. The other hand maneuvered its way up John's shirt, to scratch the skin lightly. With control he managed not buck the man above him.
John exhaled loudly through his nose and pulled back to inspect the deep red mark on Sherlock's skin. "Mine," he whispered as he moved to a new spot, giving a gentle tug to Sherlock's hair. "Mine," he repeated as he shivered at the scratches against his skin. A hand dropped from Sherlock's neck as he shifted against the warm body beneath him, managing to reach under Sherlock's shirt and hike it up to expose half of Sherlock's chest. His hand grabbed roughly at Sherlock's body, a thumb running across Sherlock's left nipple as he grinned against Sherlock's lips. He had been ready to deepen the kiss when he heard a knock at the door to their flat and he raised his head with a messy groan. Who would be visiting the flat? He looked at Sherlock quizzically. "Who did you have plans with?"
Sherlock had been so entranced by John's attention that someone knocking hadn't even registered. He blinked at the question and frowned in thought. "No one. No plans with anyone until I see Sarah in a couple days and dinner with Mycroft at the end of the week. And if it was my brother or even Lestrade, they just let themselves in. No one knocks anymore…A case maybe?" He couldn't think of anyone else it could be. "Just ignore it. Maybe they'll go away."
John took several deep breaths and nodded in agreement, meeting Sherlock's lips again and continue the rough movements with his hands before another knock was at the door.
"Sherlock Holmes?" A voice asked on the other side, clearly a bit nervous.
That made John's head shoot up almost instantly because the only explanation for that was a case. Case. The thought made him grin and look at Sherlock as he scrambled to his feet, completely forgetting their previous activities as he straightened himself up, ran the back of his hand over his mouth, and opened the door with a flourish.
"Oh, Sher-" The man paused as he spotted John, tensing right away. Tan skin, bright blue eyes, a sudden flush of skin... and a white coat that had a name written across it in blue stitched yarn.
"Jackson," John commented absently before his hand was moving forward, connecting with the other man's face in a loud crack.
Of course after all these months a potential case would come along and ruin this moment with John. Sherlock got to his feet and clear surprise was on his face when he saw who was standing on the other side of the door. Jackson. No. What? Why? Why was that man here? He watched his fiancé punch the other man. Stop the fight? Let John vent his obvious frustration? He stood by, unsure what to do. He was usually a man of action but he really wasn't sure what to do about this current situation.
John wiggled the fingers of his left hand with a hiss and when he turned back to glance at Jackson the other man rushed forward, plowing his shoulder into John's stomach. They both fell to the ground, John grunting as Jackson landed on top of him. Jackson lifted an arm, preparing to deliver a blow to the man below him, but John wiggled his body quickly, rotating at the waist and throwing the younger man off balance. The small scuffle resulted in Jackson propped slightly against the back of the couch with John above him, landing several rough punches to the other man's face. "Fuck you," he growled as Jackson tried to push him away and failed. It didn't take long for blood to start coating John's hands, for Jackson to slowly start losing the power to fight back, but John didn't stop.
For a moment rage found him, as Jackson plowed into John. He was about to intervene but his fiancé held his own and then things began to get of control. Oh shit. "JOHN!" Sherlock rushed over. "Stop! Jesus, you'll kill him at this rate!" He grabbed his fiancé around the waist and pulled him away, and held him in a tight hug. "Breath my dear doctor. It'll be okay." He kissed the top of John's head, more concerned with calming his fiancé down than the bleeding man on the floor.
The moment he was pulled away tensed, attempting to fight the hold around him until he felt the kiss against the top of his head. Sherlock. Safe. John took several deep breaths, slumping back against his fiancé with a small growl. Jackson shifted slightly against the couch, coughing and splattering blood across his body and on to the floor. "Fucking bastard," John hissed. "What makes you think you have the right to come here?"
Jackson groaned and lifted up the end of his white jacket, running it across his face in an attempt to clean it. "Wanted to check on Sherlock," he muttered, blood pouring from his nose and a split lip. "Wanted to make sure he knew I was sorry about everything. Didn't think you'd be here."
John fought against Sherlock's hold now, clawing at the arms around his midsection. "What, so you could shag him again?" He shouted angrily.
The man on the floor pressed tightly against the back of the couch to avoid John. "No, to make sure he was doing alright, you bloody madman! To make sure everything had worked out and that I didn't screw anything up!"
Sherlock kept a tight hold on John, ignoring the scratches raking across his skin. "Be still my dear doctor. Enough is enough." He shifted his gaze to Jackson. "You should leave. Don't try to contact me ever again." He squeezed John into him, hugging his fiancé closer to him. He gave another kiss on top of the army doctor's head.
Jackson stood slowly, stumbling slightly to the side and running his arm down his face to clear the now constant stream of blood. "Fine," he muttered as he locked his gaze on Sherlock. "I hope everything is going alright, then." He paused and kept his eyes locked on the consulting detective.
John tensed and tugged against Sherlock's arms again before Jackson got the hint and slowly left the flat. John leaned back against Sherlock with a low sound from his throat, letting his arms relax. After a long moment he lightly pulled away from Sherlock's grasp and moved into the kitchen without a word, turning on the sink and slowly starting to wash his hands off.