Author's Note:

You had to know it was coming sooner or later. Drama this chapter. Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!

Sherlock sighed but nodded anyway. He frowned as he looked down at John's shoulder. "Here, I'll get it. You stay here and rest." He kissed the top of his fiancé's head, sat up and as he did so became aware of the pain in his chest. He ignored it and hobbled out of the room. Even with some kind of lubricant it was a bit awkward to walk right after sex. When he reached the bathroom, he took a moment to catch his breath. He winced and closed his eyes, the pain in his chest had intensified. Fuck, he could really use some drugs right now. No. He was doing so well. What had he come here for? Bandages. Right. He grabbed a box and made his way back to the bedroom, once more ignoring the aches of his body. He didn't want John to worry so when he walked back in he smiled. "Couldn't find them at first because I was thinking about how damned amazing you are during sex." That was a good excuse as any he figured.

John glanced up at Sherlock momentarily before returning his eyes to his hand skillfully removing the bandage. "Broke my stitches," he muttered with a tight smile. "C'mere, I am going to need your help." He stood slowly, grabbing the box and placing a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek. He entered the bathroom and dug around under the sink before finding a forest green box and setting it next to the sink. "It wasn't my amazing sex that took you so long," he muttered through clinched teeth. "Even though I am amazing." He opened the box and searched around for a moment. "How's your chest doing?" He asked knowingly.

Sherlock followed John back to the bathroom and couldn't help but smirk. "I forgot how astute your doctor skills are. Honestly? I feel like I got kicked and punched all over again. That is largely due to my stubborn refusal to pain medication. It will pass, it always does." He shrugged and immediately regretted it. He was certain his cracked rib would never heal at this rate, given their penchant for sex. They were supposed to be resting to get better for their honeymoon but somehow he doubted that would actually get accomplished.

"You are doing very well." John smiled softly and turned to gently meet Sherlock's lips. He pulled a small white package from the box and then a slightly bigger one. After glancing at himself in the mirror, tilting his head and pursing his lips, he grabbed a pair of scissors in a package and set them on the counter. "I am going to need you to hold some toilet paper or... something under my wound. Think you can do that?" He grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and finally flipped the green box shut.

"Pretty sure I can handle that," Sherlock replied with a slight smirk. He pulled some toilet paper off the roll, wrapping it around three fingers a couple times before tearing it off. He applied the toilet paper once John was ready for him to do so, hoping it wouldn't cause too much pain to his fiancé.

John smiled for a moment before opening the scissors, cutting off the old stitches and quickly grabbing Sherlock's hand and pressing them to the wound with a small hiss. "Shit, forgot how much that hurt," he said through clinched teeth, his eyes pressing shut. He set the scissors down in the sink and picked up the two other packages, ripping them open with his teeth. "You will probably need some more," he commented without glancing at his fiancé. He pulled several curved needles, prepackaged with the blue surgical sutures attached. He didn't hesitate to pick the first one up, stab it into the skin surrounding his wound, and successfully tie the first stitch. "Five left." He glanced at Sherlock and managed a tight smile as a small stream of blood started to run down his arm.

With his free hand Sherlock reached over and got more toilet paper, making sure to hold the other hand in place firmly. Once he had another wad wrapped around his other hand, he resumed a more comfortable position. He stayed still and watched his fiancé work in silence, so as not to disrupt John's surgical procedure.

John moved with ease to re-stitch his wound, slumping back slightly when he finished. "Oh, that was tougher than I remembered." He glanced at Sherlock, lopsided and exhausted. He picked up his mess, tossing everything in the trash and putting back the green box. "There we go, then." He quickly re-bandaged it and turned to his fiancé. "I hope that is the most drama we have the next few months." He moved forward and gently met Sherlock's lips. "Christ, I want to shag you again."

Sherlock dropped his hand to the side when it wasn't needed anymore. "I would be okay with that being the most drama we have for the next few years." It had been a little over a year and half since their world had been turned upside down by Moriarty and even with the man dead, his criminal network was still able to get to them. The thought was frustrating. However, his thoughts dissipated when John's lips met his and he returned the kiss with a smirk. "Already? I'm not sure which of us is more sex driven…" The smirk broadened and resumed the kiss.

John couldn't help but laugh into the kiss, pulling away slightly. "Probably you. You are a few years younger, have that mind that could probably give you a hard-on in the next few minutes. I am rather normal." He reached around his fiancé and gently squeezed his ass. "Glanced at the clock on the way here. It is nine. We are getting married in, what, thirteen hours?" He ran his hand down Sherlock's side gently. "Want to drink some tea, nibble on some biscuits, and make googly eyes at each other across the kitchen table?"

The smirk returned. "Me, huh? You are the one ready to go at it again." Sherlock gave John a quick kiss on the nose. "Googly eyes?" He echoed, with slightly raised eyebrows. "What the hell does that mean?" He thought about the context of the sentence and still came up empty. All he could come up with is staring longingly into each other's eyes. He wasn't sure if that was right, since it wasn't something they really did, even when making love. How was it there was always something new to learn in a relationships? They were far more complex than he had first realized.

"Y'know, sit across from each other? Play footsie and giggle like a bunch of teenage blokes? Haven't you ever found somebody attractive and just stared at them? Don't know why?" John's gut clinched at the example because, more often than not these days, he found himself watching Sherlock's every move. After a moment he was realize that he was literally staring at his fiancé with his mouth ajar. "And then you realize you just can't stop because they are... wonderful and perfect." His gaze locked intently on the man in front of him.

Sherlock frowned and shook his head. "No. Although it shouldn't really come as a shock to you, since I have never been remotely interested in anyone until I met you. And since we have never done that…" He trailed off with a shrug. Did people really do that? He supposed they did, if there was actually a term for it. It seemed pretty silly to him but he had been doing a lot of silly things lately. Talking to an unborn child. Playing with a rubber duck that squeaked. Man, had his life changed drastically as of late.

It shouldn't have hurt him, really. This was Sherlock, after all. But the pang he felt in his chest, that odd feeling of just being doused in ice water was a bit hard to ignore. "Right. Yes. Well, people generally do that. Just stare at people they find attractive." He placed a quick kiss on Sherlock's cheek and moved back into their bedroom, moving to the dresser before yanking on a new pair of underwear and a pair of old pajama pants. "Should probably just sleep, then. Big day tomorrow and such." He muttered as he discarded the blanket he had used to clean them earlier, tossing it on the floor with a bit more force than necessary.

Sherlock followed his fiancé to their bedroom with a confused frown on his face. John's body language spoke volumes. However, he wasn't really sure what he had said or done to upset his fiancé. Was this over the 'googly eye' thing? It seemed likely since that was when the other man's demeanor had changed. He sighed, not really understanding still. Yep. Relationships were a whole lot trickery to maintain than he originally thought. He decided to stay quiet, so as not to upset John further. He didn't want to fight the night before their wedding.

What Sherlock had said was honest, truthful, and John was acting like nothing more than a child. He kept his back to his fiancé for a long moment before taking a deep breath, letting his shoulders drop and losing any sense of perfect posture he'd had before. "So you haven't ever... I dunno, caught yourself just staring at me?" It was said with uncertainty, his voice low and struggling. "You don't ever just watch me do something simple like make tea or read the paper? And then wonder why the Hell it fascinated you so much?"

The next few questions left Sherlock more confused than he already was. Were these trick questions? Was there a right or wrong answer here? He wanted to answer with whatever would make John happy for the sake of avoiding a fight. He thought seriously on the questions in quiet contemplation, as he reviewed every moment shared with John in the last year or so. "Sometimes when I don't sleep when you do, I will just lay next to you and watch. Or when we shower together…" He trailed off with uncertainty. Better to tread lightly at this point.

Sherlock's words seemed to relax John slightly. His head fell forward with a small sigh of relief. Watching him when he slept was one of the most romantic things he could imagine. "Yes, like that," he whispered as he lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. He wasn't sure why his back was still to Sherlock but it was easier to talk everything out like this for him. "Sherlock, there are times when you will be doing something so incredibly domestic, like making the bed or reading a book... and I can't keep my eyes off of you. It's simple and stupid and, quite frankly, silly, but watching you do normal things is the most beautiful thing ever."

Jesus Christ, where was the conversation going? Sherlock felt more and more confused with each word John spoke. He was left clueless on how to respond yet again. His fiancé didn't seem to be as upset but the other man still wouldn't turn and look at him. This whole situation was beginning to frustrate him. He didn't understand anything that was happening right now. Would no response make things worse or better? It had been a long time since he had felt lost in the workings of normal social interaction. He had improved on it a lot, all thanks to John but in this very moment he felt like he'd forgotten everything he had ever learned and was stuck on square one again.

Silence. John closed his eyes for a long moment, biting his bottom lip before turning around to glance at Sherlock nervously. "I just... I know you are different and that you hadn't been interested in anybody, really, before me." He wouldn't mention Irene, the tension in the room was already high, "But I guess I just expected you to tell me that you did little things like that, too. That you caught yourself watching me make the tea and couldn't stop looking. It's... stupid." He shook his head, clearly embarrassed now for making such a scene out of it. "Should we just go to bed?"

The frown on his face deepened. Sherlock was still trying to understand what was going on. Or rather more accurately, comprehend what had happened to upset John. He wanted to know for future reference, so this awkward conversation wouldn't ever repeat itself. He wasn't in the least bit tired but decided to just to agree anyway. "Yeah…sure…" He had never been so unsure in his whole life. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

It had become normal for Sherlock to snuggle into John in the past few weeks but right now John wanted nothing more than to cuddle into Sherlock's side and fall asleep. "I have made you uncomfortable," he stated as he moved to sit on the edge of the mattress. It wasn't a difficult thing to spot. The man in front of him was speechless, agreeing to things that he would normally object to. "I'm... just. I know our relationship is far from normal. It is pretty obvious, really. I guess I was expecting something really domestic of you. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

Sherlock sighed. He had kept mostly silent to avoid a fight. Apparently his fiancé didn't want to let the subject drop. Fine. "John, I just don't understand why you got upset in the first place. I really don't know. Did you want me to lie to you and say yes? Would that make you happy? I'm sorry but I don't. I'm not really sure why it comes as surprise to you. You are one of the few people who get me and of anyone, I thought you would understand that but instead you get upset. It just…doesn't make sense to me is all. I have changed myself and pretty much my entire way of living for you, but there are some things about me that won't change. If you have a problem with that then maybe…" He stopped himself dead right there. "Fuck, I need a cigarette…" He craved more than that really and he turned to leave the room. So much for not starting a fight. Why couldn't John have just gone to bed like suggested? But no his fiancé just had to press the issue.

John felt sick to his stomach and let his head drop. That sentence would have ended badly. He knew the words and they were echoing in his mind. "I still want to marry you," he said softly, lifting his gaze to his fiancé. "I always will. I am madly in love with you. I got upset because... sometimes I just want to hear things from you that I know I will never hear and that is something I am still trying to figure out myself. But... don't ever, for one second, think that I will ever regret asking you to marry me." He stood up slowly. "The past two times we have made love I've felt something with you so strong that I can't even put it into words and I just thought... I don't know. I know you love me and I know you are just as committed to this relationship as me, but I just wanted to hear something like that from you. I am acting childish, I know, but sometimes lovers just want to hear that from each other. When you said you watched me sleep." He paused and shrugged, slapping his left hand against his thigh. "It made me happy. That was something I wanted to hear."

Sherlock stopped at the doorway but didn't turn around. "So what? You just want me to make something up next time, is that it? Tell you what you want to hear? Apparently even if I do, it still isn't good enough. So really, I lose either way." John wasn't the only one who could be a child. In fact, on many occasions he had been told just how much of child he could be at times.

John's gut twisted. So even the sleeping thing had been a lie? He lowered his head and shook his head. "That isn't what I'm saying," he said softly. His words didn't have any fight left in them, now he was just grasping to keep his fiancé in the same room as him. "I am saying that I understand you will never say something like that, or do something like that, but that." He took a shaky breath. "That it doesn't mean I don't want to hear it." This was ridiculous. The night before their wedding and they couldn't even stop fighting. Over something as stupid as just wanting to hear little romantic things from his fiancé. He was being selfish. Something inside of him snapped and his hands twisted into fists, his foot slamming into the floor. Christ, Sherlock was still naked from the last time they had shagged. They couldn't even wait that long to start fighting again. "I just want proof that you love me, damn it!"

"Proof? John…" Sherlock trailed off, his voice broken. What else could he possibly do to show hi fiancé he loved him? Everything done in the last year and half had been for the other man. He wasn't angry anymore, just hurt. His shoulders slumped back and he leaned into the door frame for support, his knees suddenly too weak to support his body. "Everything I have ever told you has been nothing but the truth but sometimes I feel like, whatever I tell you just isn't good enough for you. I don't…I don't know what you want from me in moments in like those…" His voice was soft, barely audible. His head leaned against the wood, eyes closing against the moisture in his eyes.

Shit. That had... sounded a lot better in his head. "No. No." John rushed forward without a thought. Fuck the fight, he had literally just broken Sherlock down with one sentence. "I know you love me, Sherlock Holmes." He turned the man around and wrapped him in a fierce hug. "Everything. Cleaning the flat and emotions and saving my life. Twice. And Amy and... oh, God, you are the most wonderful..." his voice broke and cracked rib be damned, he held Sherlock tighter. "This is stupid. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to go to bed every night and have to fight you for the blankets and wake up in the morning laughing because you won. You always win. And I don't care if you can't tell me cute little sentimental things because I can see it. Just see it every time you look at me and that's enough. It will always be enough." He fought the tears that he felt in his eyes, clutching at his partner in desperation.

Sherlock slumped into John heavily, his head resting on the other man's shoulder. He didn't care about the pain in his chest from the tight embrace. It was better than feeling his current state of being. He returned the hug, unable to find words at the moment because really he had already said everything he'd wanted and needed to. He just continued to cling to his fiancé, in fraught need. Eventually words came to him. "I love you. I'm sorry." He wanted to beg John not to go, but he couldn't bring himself to say those words, fearing if spoken it might actually come true. Ridiculous of course but the thought of losing his dear doctor was the most terrifying thing he could ever contemplate.

No fighting. Ever. They couldn't keep doing this to themselves. It only ended in this. Slumping against each other for support and physically begging each other to not leave. "I love you, too," he whispered into Sherlock's hair. "And I could never imagine myself with anybody else. Ever. You are perfect." He ran his hand gently up and down Sherlock's side, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm so sorry. So sorry. I know you love me and you have shown me and I know you always will."

Why did they keep fighting like this? Sherlock had tried so hard not to, but despite his best efforts here they were in the aftermath of one. Was this normal in other relationships? It just felt like not even a week could go by without a dispute of some sort erupting between them. He continued to cling tightly to John, unwilling to let go of his fiancé at the moment. "I love you," he repeated for no real reason other than making sure John actually knew. He lifted his head off his fiancé's shoulder and pressed their lips together roughly, desperate to prove himself now.

John opened his mouth to reply, to let Sherlock know how much he meant to him, but he was taken aback by his partner's kiss. Rough. Needy. Desperate. They hadn't been this rough since...since Sherlock had caught him with Sarah. He had torn Sherlock down that bad. Guilt raged through his body and he surrendered to the other man's mouth, opening his lips with a small gasp of air. His good hand lifted to tangle in Sherlock's hair hesitantly, realizing almost instantly that his fiancé was in control and there would be no dispute about. Sherlock needed to be in control after what John had just done to him.

Sherlock continued to kiss John aggressively, opting to breathe through his nose rather than break it. He wasn't really ready for a second go around, but the desire to be close to his fiancé was overwhelming. He began moving forward, in hopes of backing the other man into the bed so he could straddle John. His embrace around his fiance slackened slightly, as he began scratching his fingers up and down the skin on the back.

John followed Sherlock's feet, stepping backward without a question. When the mattress hit the backs of he knees and sat obediently, taking quick and shallow breaths in through his nose. This was more intense than what he ever remembered and suddenly John wanted to breathe. He pulled away from Sherlock's kiss with a gasp, panting for breath and grimacing from the scratches to his back. He glanced up at Sherlock, internally smirking at their position. John was usually straddling Sherlock but now here he was, his lap full of his fiancé.

When the kiss finally parted, he inhaled deeply once and then began sucking on John's neck, marking the skin in various spots. Despite his inability to get an erection at the moment, he pressed into his fiancé's lower body tightly. Once he was satisfied that he sufficiently marked the man below him, he began nipping, licking, and sucking on John's ear. His fingers had begun to trail down his fiancé's side, leaving light red streaks in the wake.

The pain was too much but John let Sherlock get it out of his system. Christ, those were going to be visible tomorrow at the wedding with his tux on. John's muscles tensed under his fiancé's harsh touch. His hand moved hesitantly to return the touches, scratching once down his partner's back. Apparently they weren't over their rough stage just yet. He lifted his hips slightly to reciprocate the movement of the man above him, letting out a soft groan at every ounce of pain his body was feeling.

Sherlock continued the rough treatment on John's body for a little while longer, until it became abundantly clear he wouldn't be able to perform. He sighed in frustration and rolled off of his fiance. For a moment, he laid on his back panting as he caught his breath. After the intensity of emotions died down, he turned to look at John and cringed when he saw the damage done to the other man's body. "Sorry," he muttered and reached over to gently take John's hand.

"Fine. 'S fine," John managed to say between desperate pants for breath. His body could literally feel everything. The scratches down his sides were stinging and the marks on his neck were doing nothing to help calm his mind. "Your Mum is going to kill us. People are going to be able to see this tomorrow." He squeezed Sherlock's hand softly and fell back to lay beside his fiancé, closing his eyes and forcing himself to relax. "Also, you might look into trimming your fingernails."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. "You haven't seen the tuxedos, have you? They will be a tight fit, coming up to our chin with that stupid tie. Should be okay still. Although, I am sure my brother will give us an earful. At least we don't have to worry about a rehearsal dinner. There wasn't enough time to set one up." He brought a hand up to inspect his finger nails, he supposed they were a bit long. Grant it, trimming his finger nails hadn't been something he had really worried about in the last month or so.

Of course Mycroft would know. It was some secret Holmes skill to know and see everything about everybody. "Bloody wonderful," John whispered with a soft laugh. "I love you." He turned slightly and placed a kiss on the side of Sherlock's arm, struggling to move. He had taken a bit of a beating from the other man. "Even if you do use me as a personal punching bag." Except, really, he had deserved every last mark on his body.

"I love you too." Sherlock was about to say more but cringed at John's last words. His fiancé had been through enough abuse, physically and mentally, that the other man didn't need any more added to it. "I'm sorry," he uttered, feeling rather miserable about it now. "Wanted to show you how much I loved you…" He tried to explain and realized how lame the excuse, no matter how true, sounded.

In Sherlock's head he was sure that was really showing John how much he loved him. "You marked me as yours. I believe you." He smiled softly and turned to curl into his fiancé's side with a small sigh. Warm. Comfortable. Curling against Sherlock was possibly his favorite thing. He closed his eyes for a moment to try and focus on each area of pain on his neck. Five. Five love-marks. Christ, Sherlock had really wanted John to know that he loved him. "You will have to top that... tonight. We are getting married today." He looked up at his fiancé with a tired smile.

Sherlock managed a small smile at John's words. He was nowhere in the mood now, to the point he didn't even want to think about sex, let alone actually doing anything sexual. He wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. That didn't mean his fiancé shouldn't. "You should try and get some sleep before we have to be at my Mum's." He placed an arm around John tentatively, mindful of the scratches and careful not to aggravate those areas.

Sleep. John tensed involuntarily at the word but nodded softly against Sherlock. He really should try and get some sleep. His fiancé hadn't said anything but he knew he looked horrible after the past few weeks. "You sleep, too, you stubborn git," he whispered against his partner's chest. "We need to look good for tomorrow." The statement ended in a yawn and John shifted, hooking one leg over one of Sherlock's and pressing tightly against him before his breathing dropped off almost instantly