Author's Note:

This is the last chapter, probably, until I come back from vacation in LA. Thanks so much for all the reviews. And also, thank you in advance for waiting and being patient until the next chapter is posted!

Mycroft stood almost instantly. It seemed the two would get along if Mum was involved. He followed after Sherlock quickly, coming to his younger brother's side right as they left the dining hall. "When are you two leaving?" He asked softly.

John watched Sherlock for a moment before standing and walking over to Nancy. "I think Amy misses her Grandma," he said softly as he handed the sleeping infant over. He crouched next to Nancy's chair and rested a hand at the center of her back.

"Well, we wanted to leave today. Apparently John has plans for me tonight." Sherlock smirked but it faded as he became serious. "Has…Mummy talked to you? She has been…emotional the last couple days…it's worrisome…"

Nancy smiled and took Amy. She continued to smile, as she looked down at the sleeping infant fondly. "I always wanted to have grand kids," she admitted softly. "And Grandma is going to spoil you, yes I am."

Mycroft shook his head and licked his lips with a small sigh. "She hasn't talked to me," he replied softly before clearing his throat. "She has talked to your husband." He looked at his younger brother and frowned. "Should we sit down with her tonight? Could you and John just hold off and stay another night? Mum needs us, Sherlock."

"Do you hear that, Amy?" John smiled as the little girl slowly opened her eyes, spitting out her pacifier to yawn. "I couldn't have picked a better grandparent, Nancy." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against him with a warm smile.

"I know she has, even without John telling me, it was pretty obvious." Sherlock thought for a moment. "What would we talk about? 'Hey Mum, Dad is dead. Get over it.' Not like that of course. She is proud, strong and stubborn. Will she even want to talk to us? Comforting others isn't something I am particularly good at it…not even John at times. It is hard seeing her like this though."

"Look who is awake. Why you are beautiful girl. You are allowed to stay with me anytime you want and as long as you want and Grandma wouldn't mind one bit." Nancy continued to smile down at Amy, but her head rested on John's arm.

"Get her to just... talk." Mycroft shrugged slightly and crossed his arms over his chest. "Just ask her to open up. Tell us what is on her mind. About Dad." He lifted his gaze to his younger brother. "Share memories. Help her move on a bit."

John smiled and ran his hand up and down Nancy's arm soothingly. Amy pressed her feet into Nancy's arm with a small gurgle, her hands curling into fists as she stretched slightly. Her eyes adjusted slowly and she locked her gaze on Nancy. "Look at that," he whispered, lifting his free arm and gently tickling her stomach with his index finger.

Sherlock shrugged as well. "I guess." He really didn't know what to do, but he recognized that something should be done. He couldn't help but wonder if before John, he would have noticed or even bothered trying to help.

Nancy continued talking to Amy, happy to have a distraction. "You are a very lucky girl, young lady. You have a family who loves you so much. And I am certain I won't be the only person who spoils you."

"Thank you." Mycroft managed a smile toward his younger brother and turned back into the dining hall. The moment he crossed the threshold, he froze. There was his Mum resting against John and looking at Amy like she was the most precious thing in the world. "Sherlock," he whispered, glancing over his shoulder and grinning.

Amy's eyes shifted to her father momentarily as he tickled her but darted instantly back to Nancy. She lifted a hand and shakily touched the woman's cheek, curling her fingers before letting her arm drop. John just grinned and turned his head to look at Nancy. "Thank you."

"John makes it look so easy," Sherlock muttered, as he came to stand next to his older brother. It wasn't resentment, merely amazement. Normal people could do extraordinary things, he realized.

Nancy finally glanced over to John. "For what Dear?" She bounced Amy in her arms lightly.

"Sometimes I realize what a great man you married." Mycroft said with a small sigh. He wished he had been able to help their mother like John was.

"For being a Mum to me," John admitted softly, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. What else could he say? The woman resting against him had taken him in and shown him what family could be, what a real family looked like.

"Yes, John…he is a good man. The great sex is just a perk." Sherlock gave a smirk to Mycroft.

Nancy smiled up at John. "Of course. You are a good boy. Although, you and Sherlock get into more trouble than anyone I have ever known. You make my baby boy happy. He needed that in his life. So, thank you."

"I would say that I didn't need to hear that but we've all heard him." Mycroft smiled and finally moved into the dining room. He took his seat next to Lestrade, who was watching Nancy, John, and Amy with a soft smile.

John placed a soft kiss on Nancy's temple before standing up and looking at Sherlock. They couldn't leave tonight. Nancy needed them more than he needed a shag. He moved forward with hesitation and pulled Sherlock into a hug, burying his face into his husband's chest.

Sherlock smirked at his older brother, as the other man walked away. He returned John's hug, resting his head on top of his husband's. He reached a hand up to go through his partner's hair. "Mycroft and I are going to stay another night. If you don't want to, I'll understand." He watched his mother, holding little Sandi with a small smile.

"I'll stay," John muttered against Sherlock's chest. "I think Amy is cheering her up. I can't take that away from her." He lifted his head slightly, gently meeting Sherlock's lips. "Wouldn't mind just cuddling with you in bed tonight anyway." He let his head fall back on to Sherlock's chest as he relaxed further against his husband. "You are doing really well. I am proud of you."

Sherlock smiled and nodded, watching his mother and little Sandi for a bit. She did seem happy with Amy in her arms. She had always wanted grand kids and now she was given the chance. He removed his head from John's head to look down at him with raised eyebrows. "Proud of me? What amazing thing have I done now?" He smirked at his husband, his fingers still running through his partner's hair lightly.

"You are staying to take care of your Mum. You wouldn't have done that a year ago, Sherlock." John smiled softly. A small shiver shot through his body at the feeling of Sherlock's fingers in his hair. Christ, his husband's touch was wonderful. "I wouldn't mind a massage tonight," he muttered, standing on his toes to press a light kiss against Sherlock's lips. "I am really tense. Could you manage that?"

Sherlock gave a slight shrug, perhaps John was right. "That depends, are you going to get turned on and moan at every little touch?" The smirk returned as he looked down at his husband. "Did you want to see more of the place? You haven't even seen half of it, yet. Unless there was something else you had in mind?" In his opinion there wasn't a lot to do here, other than walk around and keep yourself busy.

"Possibly. But it will be good moaning and I promise it will end well for you in the future." John smiled and turned slightly in Sherlock's arms. Nancy had Amy, Harry and Mrs. Hudson were engaged in what seemed to be a rather entertaining conversation and... Mycroft and Lestrade were already gone. "I would love to see some more. Your room?" He grinned and pulled out of Sherlock's arms, lacing their fingers together. "Show me the way, Young Master Holmes."

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk further at John. He began leading them out of the room. "Of course Johnny." He gave his husband's hand a gentle squeeze and then led them up the third floor and took the hallway on the opposite side that had been reserved for them. They entered the last room on the left. It was clean. The bed made perfectly. Not a speck of dust. There was an uncluttered desk with a small lamp against the wall, opposite of the bed. One book case, empty, stood on another wall. There was a dresser along the other wall, with a closet door next to it. "Nothing exciting. Growing up, servants came in all day long to make it sure it stayed like this. Well, the book shelf used to have books on it. And there used to be a microscope and computer on the desk, but other than that…pretty much the same. Very dull and not me"

John looked at the room with his mouth ajar, glancing up at his husband and shaking his head. "It's huge," he stated. "It is like three of my rooms put together, Sherlock. This must have been wonderful." He tugged Sherlock into the room with a large smile. "I mean, you must have had room for everything." After a long pause and a sigh he turned to his husband, gently meeting his lips and moving his good hand to tangle in his hair.

Sherlock shrugged. "I never really spent any time in here..." He wasn't particularly fond of the room and it held no real pleasant memories for him. His reveries were interrupted when John kissed him. He returned it, embracing his husband in a hug.

Good. Kissing. John deepened it with a small moan, his tongue exploring his husband's mouth. He backed Sherlock up to the bed and gently pushed him to sit, straddling him as he finally pulled away for air. "God, I love you." He tilted his head and nipped at bus husband's ear, pausing to suck at it as he gently pressed his hips into Sherlock's stomach.

Sherlock sat down on the bed, pressing back into John with a whimper of desire. "Love you too," he breathed into his husband's neck. He began sucking on the skin with an excited growl. His fingers scratched at the tux, a soft moan escaping his lips.

John gasped. He wasn't sure how much more abuse his neck could take but Sherlock's mouth was wonderful. "Don't have anything," he said through a moan, shamelessly pressing into his husband's scratches. Even Sherlock had to know that touring the manor was going to end with them in a room together. He could barely control himself and he was sure that getting off in their tuxedos would be the best thing ever. "Stop being so damn irresistible."

Sherlock removed his mouth from John and looked up at him. "We can stop if you want, we have been going at it practically nonstop since we got married. Not that I am complaining mind you." He smirked a bit, a hand coming up to thread through his husband's hair. "What do you want to do my dear doctor?"

"I just want to be with you," John said softly as he pressed their foreheads together. "Because I can't believe that I get to spend the rest of my life with you. I just want to constantly be with you." He bit his bottom lip and blushed at the admission. "And tonight I can't wait to just sleep in the same bed as you and snuggle with my husband."

"Do you want the massage now?" Sherlock asked, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist. He kissed John's nose. He kept their heads together, enjoying the closeness of his husband. He moved a hand to his partner's hair once more, enjoying the soft bristles on his fingers.

Oh, the massage. John smiled slightly and nodded. "Please. God, that sounds wonderful." He shifted slightly and placed a quick kiss on his husband's lips before maneuvering on the bed to sit next to Sherlock. He managed to get out of his jacket, vest and shirt on his own, stubbornly tossing them on the floor before twisting to lay on his stomach. He grinned at Sherlock and buried his face into his arms. "Do you want me to give you one when we are done?"

Sherlock took off his own jacket and vest. He also took off the tie and undid the first few buttons of his dress shirt. "I have never had one before...or given one. But I am sure I can figure it out." He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and finally straddled John. "Any area in particular you want worked on, or just your whole back." He cracked the knuckles in his fingers to help loosen them up.

"Just... be careful of my shoulder, yeah?" John tensed slightly at the feeling of Sherlock above him, sucking in a quick breath and forcing himself to calm down. Was he going to be able to make it through the massage? He pressed his face into the pillow with a low groan and tensed the muscles in his upper back. Just the anticipation of Sherlock's hands on him sent a small shiver down his spine.

Sherlock reviewed basic anatomy in his mind before, his fingers began probing John's lower back and looking for any knots or muscles bunched together. When he found a rough spot, he began applying pressure and moving his fingers in small circles. "If it hurts too much let me know. Although it will probably be a bit unpleasant for awhile until I can work out the tension."

Holy... "Oh, God." John went limp almost instantly against the mattress and let out another groan. It was so unfair that Sherlock could pick everything up as simply as he did. This was the best massage he had ever had. "Bloody wonderful." He turned his head to the side and rested against the pillow, mouth open as he took several shallow breaths. "Don't stop."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise. Apparently he was doing a good job so far, he had been uncertain about his skills at first but that quickly vanished. He continued to knead the same spot, this time with a bit more confidence, until he felt the tension leave and then began looking for another spot that was in need of the same attention.

"Below my left shoulder blade," John said breathlessly, swallowing hard and grasping the pillow beneath his hand. Perfect. This was wonderful. "If this whole detective thing doesn't work out then you have a job in the massage business. Christ, Sherlock." He arched slightly into his husband's touch and let out a content sigh. "Might have to shag you tomorrow as repayment."

"It is really just basic anatomy John," Sherlock commented as he moved his fingers up the his husband's left shoulder blade and began working on it immediately. "And you and I both know that you will shag me tomorrow anyway. Payment or not. Because let's face it, I am just so 'amazing' and 'perfect' you can't stay away." He smirked even though John couldn't see it.

This was almost better than an orgasm. Almost. John gasped and let out a low moan of pleasure, his body tensing for a moment. "When I shag you tomorrow I am going to do it against the windo-" Another moan, his eyes slamming shut as he struggled to control himself. "Against the windows," he finished breathlessly.

"Jesus John, it's just a massage." Sherlock wasn't even really trying that hard but his husband seemed to be enjoying it, so who was he to argue? "Against the windows? Really? Are you going to be the one against the window?" He was most certainly intrigued and thrilled by this prospect, his fingers applying a little more pressure in excitement.

John managed a small shake of his head against the pillow and smirked. "No. You. For all of Baker Street to see," he paused and took a slow, measured breath. "Unless you want me against the window." He lifted his hips from the bed slightly and pressed into Sherlock. He felt the pressure of Sherlock's hands change and let out an appreciative moan.

"Oh no, if we are doing it against the window it's going to be you." Sherlock nodded after he spoke, as if reaffirming his words. Ever since they had talked about it that night after their little game of who could hold out the longest, he had been wanting to try it. Only John hadn't seem interested or eager about doing it, so he'd just never brought it up again. But here they were now, talking about it. It wasn't a secret fantasy per se, but it was most certainly something he had wanted to try out.

John nodded in agreement without a second thought because, Christ, those hands were wonderful. "Yeah. Okay." He hissed slightly as he felt some pain shoot through his right shoulder and wiggled under his husband's touch. Of course. Anything nice couldn't be enjoyed for too long. He took a deep breath and whimpered. Shit, he had just agreed to let Sherlock fuck him against the window of their flat.

Really? In his exhilaration, Sherlock continued to add more pressure with his fingers to John's body without much thought. Now all he could think about was being back at their flat. Damn it. He had just agreed to stay a day longer too with his mother. That meant he'd have to wait before it happened. He sighed wistfully and finally came back to reality. Had he just hurt John? "Are you all right?"

"Y-Yeah, 'S fine." John relaxed against the mattress with a small whimper. "Just... my shoulder. Sorry." He took a hesitant breath and twitched when more pain shot through his injured shoulder. "Ah, shit. Must have slept on it wrong or something." He glanced at his husband out of the corner of his eye. "You a bit excited?" He asked with a forced laugh.

Sherlock frowned a bit. "Do you want me to stop?" Even as he finished asking the question, his fingers came to a halt. "Actually, yeah…I suppose I am. It is something I have wanted to try but you hadn't seemed to keen on it so I never brought it up. But you did, so…" He gave a slight shrug of his slender shoulders.

"I want to make you happy," John said softly, shifting and twisting so he ended up on his back underneath his husband. "What time is the talk with your Mum? I want to nap but I can't sleep without you." A hand moved to run softly up and down Sherlock's stomach. "You have become quite the necessary sleeping item for me, Sherlock Holmes."

"John, you do make me happy." Sherlock moved to lay down next to his husband, snuggling into his partner immediately. "I'm not sure. Not until tonight I don't think. After dinner probably, if I had to guess. You can nap now if you want." He wasn't tired but he would lay next to John if it meant the other man would actually sleep.

"Okay," John whispered as he wrapped a hand around Sherlock's shoulders. Sleep. He was exhausted and it seemed that if Sherlock was next to him he didn't have nightmares. It was mental, really, but John couldn't help it. "Wake me up in an hour," he demanded softly before closing his eyes. His last thought was of his husband, a weak smile on his face.

Sherlock rested his head on John's good shoulder, his arm coming to rest across his husband's stomach. "No nightmares my dear doctor," he whispered quietly into the other man's ear. The talk with his mother. He was suddenly dreading it. What were they going to say to her? He honestly had no clue. Maybe Mycroft had come up with something. Hopefully. He went over several possible scenarios in his head, and he lost track of time.

John woke up slowly, groaning for a small moment before he remembered Sherlock. His husband. "Oi, my back." He grinned sleepily and yawned. "Feels good." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. It had been two hours but he'd slept... Sherlock had lost track of time. "Ignore my hard-on," he stated with a small chuckle. "What are you thinking about over there?"

Sherlock had lost himself so deeply in thought that he hadn't even realized John had woken up until finally the question proposed to him finally registered. He blinked and his eyes focused clearly on his husband. "Just trying to figure out the best way to approach Mummy about things is all. Can't really think of anything fitting though…"

Oh. Right. Nancy. He had gone through this before. Granted, he was younger. "When I lost my Dad," he cleared his throat. "Mum just wanted to talk about him. Memories. How we were." He bit his bottom lip. "Sometimes you don't even have to talk, Sherlock. Just... listening. It will be good enough." He lifted his hand and reached across his body, pushing some unruly curls off of Sherlock's forehead. "Imagine losing me." He twisted his mouth to the side. "Wouldn't you just want somebody to listen? To help remember? That is all your Mum wants."

Sherlock was about to nod at what John said, but stopped himself when he heard the last words spoken. Never. He didn't even want to think about it. Maybe it was because in the last year and a half he had almost lost his dear doctor on multiple occasions. When John had been close to death, he hadn't wanted anyone around. Though he supposed normal people needed comfort. Something he wasn't used to giving.

Not the best example, then. "Your Mum is a strong woman, I don't doubt that at all." He placed a kiss on his husband's forehead. "But sometimes even the strongest people just need support. It is your job to help her out." He smiled softly and yanked him closer to his side. "Do you miss him at all?" John asked slowly, his eyebrows knitting together for a moment. "I mean, he raised you."

Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together in thought for a moment. He couldn't help the harsh laugh that escaped from him at John's question. "I really wouldn't call what Dad did as raising me." He didn't bother hiding the bitterness he felt. "But, no, I don't miss him. Not happy about it either, but the bastard had it coming if you ask me. I guess I just really don't care either way."

Oh. How did one reply to that? John had been young when he had lost his father and he missed the man. Then again, this was Sherlock. "Just, be there for your Mum? She needs it right now, Sherlock." He let out a slow yawn at the end of the sentence. "Did your Mum raise you, then? Or just... I don't know, a nanny or something?"

"It doesn't really matter," Sherlock muttered. He didn't like talking about his childhood. Sure he had grown up privileged but it wasn't pleasant. He shifted away from John a bit, turning his back to his husband. He had done everything he could to forget, it was why he had started drugs to begin with.

John narrowed his eyes for a moment and studied Sherlock's back. Did he leave Sherlock like that? Let him just sulk it out? "I'm sorry," he whispered, turning on his side to press his chest against his husband's back. One arm moved to wrap protectively around Sherlock's stomach. "I didn't... Sorry..." He placed a kiss on the back of Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock didn't turn to face John, but he did relax into the other man. He brought a hand up and placed it on his husband's. He really didn't feel like talking about it. Not now. Not ever. He really wanted a cigarette right now, but he didn't want to leave the comfort of John's presence.

"One day on their pirate ship, Sherlock and John got caught in a storm," John whispered into the back of his husband's neck. "And John fell overboard. He didn't know how to swim and he was scared but Sherlock jumped in and saved him." He placed another kiss against Sherlock's neck. "And once they got back on the ship John realized that he owed Sherlock how life for rescuing him. So he vowed to stay with Sherlock for the rest of his life and do whatever he could to keep him happy."

Sherlock couldn't help but smile, and he gave John's hand a squeeze. "I am fine. It was just...difficult to grow up here. At least for me it was..." He trailed off, not really feeling like elaborating past that. He turned to face his husband, his head nestling into his partner's shoulder.

John wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock, one hand tangling in his hair. "Shhh..." He kissed the top of his husband's head and took a deep breath. "We live together now so you don't have to worry about any of it." He ran his hand soothingly up and down Sherlock's back. "We have our own home now. Our own family."

Sherlock was quiet once more, snuggling a little more into John. He wasn't tired, but he was comfortable. His eyes closed, as he tried to think about something else. After a long moment he finally spoke. "You know what is funny about that story, I don't actually know how to swim."

John looked down at his husband for a long moment and finally chuckled softly. "You don't? You have never been to a pool or river or anything?" He asked softly, scratching Sherlock's scalp with a grin. "Good thing we have got a private beach to ourselves for the honeymoon. Maybe I can teach you?" He shifted slightly and rolled to push Sherlock on to his back. The man needed to be loved a little. John could do that. He settled himself between Sherlock's legs and placed several soft kiss on his husband's neck, his hands moving to slowly start undoing the buttons of the shirt. "I love you," he whispered.

"The manor has a pool. When I was four, I think, Mycroft tried to teach me to swim. I guess I was annoying him, because he left me alone. I almost drowned. Mum was furious. Even Dad. It is the only time I can think of that the Old Man yelled at Mycroft. Anyway, I never went swimming again after that." Sherlock shrugged a bit, his body relaxing from John's touch and kisses.

"I think I will be a good teacher," John replied against Sherlock's neck, his mouth moving to kiss at the newly exposed skin of his husband's chest. "You are beautiful, y'know that?" His voice was soft as he finally unbuttoned the shirt, a hand running gently up Sherlock's stomach and moving to run down his side. "A bloody work of art." His lips moved to the scar running down the center of his chest, lingering there. There was nothing sexual about John's actions. All he was trying to do was calm Sherlock down, let him know he was loved. "I am so blessed to have you."

"I suppose since I taught you how to dance, I will let you teach me how to swim. I can't imagine it is too difficult. Human bodies are naturally buoyant, so as long as I am not panicking and thrashing I'm sure I'll do fine." Sherlock closed his eyes again, his hands coming to rest behind his head. He smirked a bit. "It is hard work being as good looking and amazing as I am but I manage."

John pulled away from Sherlock's chest with a smirk. "Your ego is huge," he muttered, digging his nails into Sherlock's side briefly. The man sure could take his praise. "Can't you just let me pay attention to you without your cocky little comments?" He asked with a small laugh, lowering himself to place a kiss just above his husband's bellybutton.

Sherlock's smirk got bigger. "I was just agreeing with you my dear doctor." He squirmed into John a little, unable to help himself. Every touch and kiss his husband was giving, gave his skin a prickling sensation and he was enjoying it. He craved more contact, his fingers curling and uncurling in his unruly hair.

"Do it silently. In your head," John said softly into Sherlock's stomach. He lifted himself slightly and moved up his husband's body, tilting his head to place several kisses on the inside of Sherlock's right bicep. The man's body was literally a work of art. Lean and pale but in the most beautiful way. It was hard to understand why he hid it from anybody before him.