AN: Thanks to all who reviewed/story alerted/faved! It means a lot to us! Also this story takes place after Scandal in Belgravia and from there is AU.

My tumblr: lovelyrosesandthings . tumblr . com

Co-author: forevernerdy . tumblr . com. She also has another lovely story up called Home with the Holmes. Go check it out!

Warnings: Implied sex, nothing graphic.

Disclaimer: These characters are owned by Moffat, Gatiss, and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Chapter 2

They avoided each other all day and most of the evening. Sherlock kept to the flat, working on experiments, while John got out of the flat somewhere far away. He left right after their fight and didn't come back until 11PM. Sherlock could hear him trudge up the stairs, obviously drunk on copious amounts of alcohol. Sherlock was in the kitchen, looking through his microscope, trying not to acknowledge that John had come home.

"We got a package. Mrs. Hudson said it came in this morning."

Sherlock grunted in response. John made a frustrated noise, slammed the package on the floor and stomped his way into the kitchen.

"You know we can't keep avoiding each other, we have to come to a decision about the, uh, the state of our relationship."

"John you are currently intoxicated so you aren't in your right-"

"Damn it Sherlock, don't you understand? I want a relationship with you."

Sherlock looked up from his microscope, staring at John, wide eyed with shock. John kept speaking.

"I want you. Can't you see that? Or are you just angry at the fact that you made yourself vulnerable to me? I understand that Sherlock, but if you don't want a relationship with me then tell me and stop trying to avoid-"

John was promptly interrupted by Sherlock getting up and hugging him. It was surprising and sweet and tender. Sherlock's fingers were threading through John's hair automatically making him relax. Sherlock pulled back a bit, a blush prominent on his cheeks.

"I'm not good at relationships of any kind, I will do things that will make you mad or frustrated, and I will do things that could possibly get me killed or injured, but I-I love you," he bit his lip a bit at the admittance, "and if you are willing to have me-"

John kissed him this time, effectively shutting him up. The kiss was sweeter this time, softer and less forceful. Sherlock's hands were in John's hair, threading his fingers through the fine, blond locks. John grabbed at Sherlock's hips, bringing them together. Sherlock, surprised at the suddenness of it, broke the kiss.

John looked up at him, with a coy smirk on face, and asked Sherlock, "Come to bed?"

Sherlock, unable to say anything else, nodded silently as they went up to John's bedroom.

Sherlock was the one to wake up first. It was 4:57AM on the little alarm clock. He looked around blearily, not used to having that much sleep. When he does have to sleep, he sleeps maybe three hours, but it's been seven. It was the best sleep he had ever had.

He felt John move as he cuddled more into Sherlock's arms. He couldn't quite hide the wince. He was unexpectedly sore from the activities from the hours before. Sherlock blushed, remembering in detail what happened. Sherlock made sure to catalogue all touches and sensation for future use. He thought of Mycroft and smirked; he can take his comments about Sherlock's lack of a sex life and shove them up his ass. Right now though, he didn't want to worry about Mycroft, he was just content to lie with John for the rest of the day but as luck would have it, Sherlock's stomach decided to grumble loudly. Realizing he hadn't eaten all day yesterday he tried to disentangle himself from John, but he wouldn't have it, tightening his grip on Sherlock's waist.

"Come on John," he laughed a little at how endearing John is, "I'm hungry."

"Way too early, come back."

Sherlock sighed and gave up trying to get up. He got all settled with John pressed up against him and then the shrill sound of his cell phone ruined the whole moment.

"Sherlock," John groaned, "Shut it off."

Sherlock stood, wrapping the sheet around him. John laughed a bit, no doubt remembering their time at Buckingham Palace.

Sherlock answered the phone with his usual "What?"

"Something's happened," Lestrade's voice crackled.

"Obviously."

"A triple murder and a kidnapping," the other side said, "All of the possible are were locked."

"We'll be there."

Sherlock hummed into the phone in response to what Lestrade said and then hung up with a flourish.

Sherlock smiled at John with a grin that could only mean one thing.

"John, we have a case!"

It took all of about ten minutes for them to get showered and dressed and out the door of the flat and onward to the crime scene.

It was a crisp early morning, too early in John's opinion. He looked at Sherlock's face, flushed a bit from the cold. He looked different, more relaxed and happier. John felt warmth spread from his stomach to his limbs, knowing he had some part in making Sherlock like that.

They hailed a cab, and hastily climbed in to hide from the cold. Sherlock spouted the address of where they were off to, and then it was silent. The only sound in the cab for awhile was the hum of the engine until John glanced over at Sherlock staring out of the window and noticed that there was still some toothpaste on the corner of mouth.

"Sherlock, face me a moment," John said while gesturing for him to do so.

Sherlock turned to face John and asked, "What is it?"

John reached over to swipe the bit of toothpaste off with his thumb. He swiped over the corner of Sherlock's mouth twice more to get the rest of it off. Once John was done, Sherlock whipped his head around to stare through the window again and the cab suddenly filled with tension.

After a moment John broke the silence, "Is something wrong?"

No response.

"Sherlock?"

"Just thinking, John. Why would there be?" Sherlock said a bit bitingly.

"I'm sorry."

Sherlock looked at him with a confused look on his face.

"I'm sorry, am I supposed to act differently now?"

John looked at Sherlock, and he really truly was genuine in his question. John sighed a little, knowing that of course Sherlock wouldn't totally change. He smiled a bit, happy knowing that their relationship wouldn't change Sherlock completely, he would still be that brilliant, infuriating man, but he loved him for it.

"No, I suppose not, but Sherlock," Sherlock looked at John properly this time, "Try not to snap too much at your lover."

The cab dropped them off in front of a café which John was rather odd. He looked at Sherlock with a questioning look and Sherlock answered, "The actual crime scene is less than a mile away, I just- Well, you didn't have breakfast."

John felt a blush creep up his neck as he realized that Sherlock did this for him.

"What about the investigation?"

"They will be fine for a little while. I'm sure Anderson won't totally screw it up."

John nodded as he went inside the little café. There was no one inside, which wasn't so surprising since it was so early on a Sunday. They sat down in a private corner as a waitress came and took down John's order. They sat in a companionable silence as John ate his breakfast. Once he finished, Sherlock was quick to pay for John's meal. John didn't know how to react so he let it go. Sherlock was indeed a strange man.

As they exited the heated café, they were bombarded by the cold outside. It was gray and cold and it chilled John to his bones. Walking about a mile in the cold is not what John had in mind for a Sunday.

They kept walking toward the crime scene when Sherlock looked down at John. His nose was red from the cold and his hands were stuffed deeply into his jacket pockets. Sherlock, without even thinking, said, "Take my hand."

John looked up, surprised and a little pleased. So he took Sherlock's hand; it was surprisingly warm, despite the cold. John squeezed the hand and smiled at Sherlock who in turn smiled back.

They held hands all the way to the crime scene. Despite it being a crime scene, they were over the moon.

As they approached the police tape, Lestrade was standing there holding open so they can duck under.

"Five minutes."

"That's all I need."

Then Lestrade happened to look down at their clasped hands. He looked up, pleasantly surprised and said, "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," John responded, glad that it wasn't too weird.

Sherlock's hand tightened around John's has they approached the flat where the crime took place. As they walked by Anderson, he muttered, "About bloody time."

Sherlock turned to glare at Anderson, but he was too far gone to notice Sherlock's glaring. When they entered the flat, they immediately saw the dead bodies. There were three of them, a man, a woman, and a little boy. They were pale but no obvious signs of injury, they just looked as if they were sleeping.

Sherlock took a look of the room. He walked over to the windows for signs of being forced open but there were none. He checked under the bed and in the bathroom but still no sign of a break in. But he did find a pink pair of baby booties. They were new, so it couldn't have the boy's booties so a baby was kidnapped, but why? They obviously didn't want money or they would be alive, nothing seemed to be stolen, so what was their motive?

Sherlock moved on to examine the bodies. He started with the man. There is no bruising, no sign of struggle or assault. There is no bullet wound or any wound at all.

Dead bodies, for the very first time, made Sherlock very, very nervous.

TBC