Author's Note:
I also love this chapter. Well, I love a lot of these chapters because a bunch of cute and fluffy stuff happens on their honeymoon that I can't wait to share with you all.
It didn't take John long. It shouldn't have, really, because it was muscle memory. He took a deep breath, standing at the door with his hand on the door knob. Deep breath. It will be fine. He slowly opened the door and stepped out, his Army uniform moving with the rapid breaths of his chest. "I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes," he said calmly. "I've been sent here to protect him." He smirked in his husband's direction, standing at attention.
Sherlock looked up at John. He hesitated in confusion before he finally realized what was going. This was one of those role plays things, right? They had never done that before or even discussed it but if that's what his husband had in mind he would play along. Who knows, it could turn out to be rather fun. He was willing to try anything at least once. "I'm Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective, the only one in the world. May I know what you are protecting me from? Or is that a need to know basis?"
"Need to know, Sir," John replied swiftly, clearing his throat and glancing around the room. It was easy to act like this, second nature. "Odd name, Sherlock Holmes. Even more odd of a job," he commented in a bored tone, letting his eyes settle on his husband again. "Probably why you are here."
"Well, it isn't like I got to pick it." Sherlock shrugged with a smirk. "An odd job you say? I would ask what it is, but apparently it is need to know." He raised his eyebrows. "Oh? And why exactly am I here again? My memory seems to be a bit hazy at the moment." So far, he was most certainly interested and was wondering where this was going.
"You trying to be clever?" John asked, clearing his throat with a grin as he tore his eyes away from Sherlock. "Sir," he added with a small roll of his shoulders. "I am not going to tell you. I am not an idiot." He shifted slightly on his feet. Good, Sherlock was playing along. This was very good. "I am just here to protect you. Those are my orders."
"Well, being clever just so happens to be a specialty of mine. It is sort of a prerequisite to be a consulting detective." Sherlock smirked again. "So you have said. Here to protect me. In the middle of nowhere in Southern Italy. So, some sort of protective custody obviously." Had he gone too far with his impromptu role?
John Watson, civilian would have asked how the man knew they were in southern Italy. John Watson, soldier, merely studied Sherlock intently. "Quite," he replied with a small growl. Sherlock had added quite a small twist. "If you are such a bloody genius then why don't you go ahead and tell me why you are here, why don't you?" He took a step forward and clasped his hands behind his back.
"If you are wondering how I knew where we are. Simple. Out the window is a view of a beach. The water is clear, bluish green. Thus middle of nowhere. It isn't a sea, a lake or river. In the room are electrical outlets that are used in Europe, not the Americas. There are only so many countries along the water. Britain, Wales, Ireland, Scotland are all out of the question because it would be stupid to protect someone so close to where they live. It isn't any of the Norwegian countries, the geography is all wrong. So, simple process of elimination. Possibly Spain but extremely unlikely." Sherlock smirked, clearly proud of himself. "As for why I am here, I already know but I didn't want to seem like a show off but I guess it's too late for that now...isn't it?"
Impressive. John swallowed and shrugged. "I would have guessed you were a cocky bastard because people that attractive need to have a horrendous flaw, Sir." He lifted his eyes to glance out the double glass doors that led to their personal beach. "But I am not impressed. It doesn't take much to figure that out."
"It is hard to be as good looking as I am. It's a curse really. People are constantly flirting and trying to shag me. I'm not into that kind of thing. No time for someone with my kind of intellect." Sherlock smirked again. "I'm not trying to impress you…" He eyed the stripes and medals on the uniform, "…Captain. I have no need to impress the likes of you." If John was expecting him to be cocky and confident then he would be more than happy to play that role. It came natural to him after all.
John's chest puffed slightly at the use of his title. "Right. And if I just up and leave now the chances of you getting assassinated jump to one hundred percent. So I highly suggest you stop being an annoying dick." He moved across the room, studying everything with a bored expression. After a quick glance to Sherlock he sat on the other side of the bed, his back to his husband. "You make me want to punch something."
"I don't need you or anyone to protect me. I didn't ask for it you know. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Sherlock smirked even though John couldn't see him now. "You can try punching me, but then you might ruin this beautiful face of mine. You wouldn't want to do that, now would you?"
That was it. John shot to his feet and moved around the bed swiftly, looking down at Sherlock. "And I didn't ask to be put on assignment with some cocky bastard. So shut up and just sit there." He reached down and yanked Sherlock to his feet, pulling his husband against his body. "That's an order," he said lowly.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes a bit. "An order? Who are you to order me? I am a civilian not a soldier. You have no jurisdiction over me, Captain." He stood tall, staring down at the man in front of him. "You want me to do as you say? Make me!" The smirk returned, his eyes shining with excitement and mischief.
John turned both of them and pressed Sherlock against the wall. He rolled his hips slightly but kept a straight face, studying Sherlock confidently. "Don't make me go through the trouble of making it look like an accident," he whispered hotly. He tensed at his own words. Too close. Too real. He smirked and pressed his forearm lightly across Sherlock's neck. "Try me."
Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath from the closeness of their bodies. It was hard to focus now. Difficult to stay in character. He glared at John and struggled against the arm at his neck. "I will try you to the very end. You won't make me do or say anything that I don't want to do. Do your worst, Captain."
John let his eyes dart between Sherlock's before he pulled away, shoving a bit against his husband's body. "If I did that I might kill you. Wouldn't want that." He straightened his uniform with a small frown. It had gotten wrinkled. "Then it would be a bit counterproductive, wouldn't it?" He glanced at Sherlock, his eyes traveling down his husband's body. "Wouldn't take much, though."
"Is that all you got? The big bad Captain with a quick mouth but nothing to back it up?" Sherlock smirked. He brushed by John purposefully, striding over to the mirror above the dresser. He brushed and straightened his suit as if having his husband had soiled and ruined its perfection. "You can't keep me here against my will you know. Think I will just leave and take my chances on my own."
John watched Sherlock for a long moment before moving toward him calmly. "It wouldn't be a good idea for you to leave, Sir," he said with a bit of a raised brow. Bloody suit that formed perfectly to his husband's body. "I would be forced to chase after you, we'd probably get shot at. It would be a bloody mess." He straightened his posture and looked around the room. "The doors are locked from the outside anyway. You aren't going anywhere."
Sherlock turned to face John once more. "So, what you are saying is I am stuck here with you? Bloody perfect. What then? We going to play cards and tiddlywinks until it is safe? What if it is never safe? We just stay here forever? I could always just break a window and leave that way, you know. There are always ways around doors."
John shrugged nonchalantly and glanced around the room. "I don't know about you but I seemed to have left my tiddlywinks with my other uniform." He sat on the bed and lifted up his uniform jacket, pulling his pistol from his belt and reaching into a pocket of his pants. "But by all means, Sir, if you are so desperate to play tiddlywinks, I am sure we could figure something out." He pulled a bottle of gun oil from his pocket with a rag, setting to work on polishing his gun with rather provocative motions.
Sherlock watched John clean his gun, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I see you know how to handle your equipment Captain. Maybe I am safe in your hands after all." He sat down next to his husband. "I know this is hard to believe, but even though I'm a genius I might be able to learn a few things from you. Maybe. Or maybe I could teach you a few things, which is more likely."
"Oh? You think you could teach me something?" John didn't even look up from his task. "With all due respect, Sir, I think I know what I'm doing. I have been in the Army for a while now." He finally looked away from his gun, smirking slightly at how close they were now. "You think you can properly handle my equipment?" Two could play at that little innuendo game.
"Oh I know I can. I am quite adept at it, actually. I have a lot of hands on experience." Sherlock smirked at John. "You could let me give you a hand with that. It will give me something to do. I get bored easily. Rather keep busy." God, how much longer was this going to go? He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep his hands off his husband. Focused. Concentrate. Stay in the role. Don't disappoint John.
Touch his gun? John tilted his head to the side fractionally and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Sorry, Sir, I guess you will just have to find some different equipment of mine to handle. Nobody touches this gun." He lifted his hand slightly and moved to rest it on the bed, leaning back on the bed and bracing himself with both of his arms behind him. Sherlock was struggling and John would keep at it until he broke, until he couldn't handle it anymore.
Fine. John wanted to draw this out, he would play along. "My mistake. I will just find my own equipment to handle then." Sherlock got up off the bed. He moved out of the bedroom to the kitchen. Distraction. Tea. That would do for now. He put on the kettle and got out a cup after searching a few cupboards. He was determined not to break first. Who would beg first had yet to remain to be seen.
John shifted and grabbed the gun oil, slipping it back into his pocket and slowly following Sherlock out of the room. "Sir, you are in danger out here," he commented as he turned to lean against the counter Sherlock was standing at. "But I guess I wouldn't mind a cuppa." He turned, standing close to his husband, their upper arms touching. "You interested in my gun, then?" He asked softly.
"Can't very well hide in a bedroom my whole life, now can I?" Sherlock shrugged a bit. "I didn't make enough for you. If you want a cup, make it yourself." He cleared his throat and moved away from John when their arms touched. Detached. Cold. He had been such a master at it at one time. He was going to hold out damn it. Draw it out. It's what his husband wanted, wasn't it? Or did the other man merely want him to break down and beg?
Stubborn git, naturally. It was like the first day he had met Sherlock in the lab at St. Bart's. Fine. John moved and pinned Sherlock in the corner of the counter, looking up at him with calm features. "Going to act like you don't have a bit of a hard on in your pants then, Sir?" He whispered, making sure to stand close but keep his body from touching his husband's.
Gone. All the self control Sherlock had, was gone the instant John pinned him against the counter. "Hard not to when I have adorable Captain in front of me." He snatched his husband by the shirt and pulled the other man forward fractionally so that their faces were inches apart. "What are you going to do about it?" He released the shirt and managed to regain his self control.
The first signs of Sherlock breaking. Wonderful. He ignored the adorable comment and glanced down at his husband's hands, smirking slightly. There it was. A small little bulge in the front of Sherlock's perfectly tailored pants. "I could stare at it," he muttered with a shrug. "I'm a Captain in the Army, Mr. Holmes. I don't think there is much more I can do with that unless you are a bit more specific. Bit more... convincing."
"Not really sure what you mean, Captain." Sherlock brushed by John once more and over to the whistling kettle. He poured the boiling water into the cup with practiced ease. He added a package of tea and stirred the concoction. Just concentrate on the beverage. After a few moments of the tea cooling he took a sip. He made a face. He had forgotten milk. Damn John and his wonderful distraction.
John couldn't help but grin as he turned to watch his husband. No milk. Sherlock had forgotten and he had missed that little face he'd pulled. "Forget something, Sir?" He reached into the fridge and grabbed the milk, biting his bottom lip as he raised an eyebrow. "You said earlier that you were smart, could put things together. Bit difficult to do it when you want to shag a certain Army Captain?"
Sherlock snatched the milk with a mock growl and poured it into his cup. He took another sip. Much better. "The Army Captain I want to shag isn't here right now apparently. All I have is you. That might be doable. Not sure if you are a suitable substitute though." He fell quiet after that, sipping his tea in thoughtful silence.
John moved closer to Sherlock. "Well, I would hope I would be decent," he whispered, reaching to grab the cup of tea out of Sherlock's hand and taking a sip. The entire time he watched his husband over the rim of the mug. "Except in this case I would be doing the shagging." He leaned against the counter smugly and took another sip of the tea. "And you don't even know my name. That takes a lot."
Sherlock watched John drink the tea with an amused smirk. No sugar in it, yet his husband was still drinking it. Props to John for staying committed to the role. "If it is just a shag then names are irrelevant anyway aren't they? Unfortunately for you Captain, a man of intellect doesn't have time for your amorous advances."
"That explains why you pulled me closer a few minutes ago," John whispered as he finished the cup of tea. Straight face. Don't grimace. He swallowed it with a shrug, setting the cup in the sink. He moved forward slowly and ran a finger down Sherlock's chest, his eyes following his own finger before he looked up to meet his husband's gaze. "I guess hearing you shout 'Captain' in the throes of passion wouldn't be so bad."
Sherlock managed to ignore the first statement but he couldn't help but shiver from John's finger tracing along his chest. Come on. Keep it together. He smirked and shrugged. "Can't say I've ever done that. Why should I start now? Maybe you are the one who should be convincing me. Not the other way around Captain."
"You were the one complaining about being bored earlier, Sherlock," John spoke his husband's name lowly with a small tilt of his head. "I have got gun oil in my pocket and a bed just a few feet away." He licked his lips and took a step back, turning to walk back into the bedroom. Now it was just a waiting game to see if Sherlock followed him.
Sherlock hesitated. Follow? Don't follow? Fuck it. At this point his body was a raging mess of hormones and desire. He went into the bedroom. "Fine you win, Captain. Only because I'm bored. This is just a shag, it means nothing. So don't expect anything from me after that." He reached up and began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.
"Chances are I will be shot once I get sent back to Afghanistan so I hadn't really expected much from you any way." John reached into his pocket and tossed the bottle of gun oil on the bed, moving forward to stand in front of Sherlock. Stay in character. He looked up slowly and stood on his toes, meeting Sherlock's lips once hesitantly before pulling away. Good. That was good. He moved in for a second kiss and reached between them to start undoing his belt.
What John said hit a little closer to home than Sherlock would have liked. Don't react. Shit. Just don't think about it. The kiss helped mildly and he fought the urge to just embrace his husband tightly and never let go. He threw his shirt on the floor once it was completely unbuttoned. Stay in control, he reminded himself again. Sometimes being stubborn paid off because it was the only thing keeping him together right now. He wasn't going to ruin this for John.
John pulled away and glanced at the shirt, studying it intently before turning back to Sherlock. "Tell me what you like," he muttered as his fingers curled into the waistband of his husband's pants, tugging him closer to the bed. "Fast? Slow?" He shrugged as his free hand finally managed to get his belt undone. He finished with his pants and let his pants and underwear fall halfway down his thighs. "Bed. Don't care how you lay," he muttered as he reached over and grabbed the gun oil.
At this point Sherlock didn't trust himself to speak. He undid his pants and slid them down with his underwear. He let them drop to the floor and he stepped out and over the clothing and laid down on the bed, so his back was on the sheets. "Whatever you want," he finally said. "Please?" He didn't care that he was begging now; his voice was a mixture of need and desire with just the tiniest hint of fear. He needed John now. Needed to reassure himself that this was real and his husband was safe. No more war. No more kidnappings. Just them on their honeymoon.
John hesitated for a moment and studied Sherlock. Too real? He unzipped his uniform jacket and let it fall to the floor. "Okay," he muttered, clearly a bit broken now himself. Shit. He had upset Sherlock. He bent down to undo his boots, kicking them of and yanking his pants and underwear off. Comfort. Make him happy. He crawled on the bed and moved to settle in between Sherlock's legs, gently meeting his husband's lips. "I can do that," he whispered.
Desperate need gripped Sherlock suddenly. He bit John's bottom lip when they kissed. "I lied. I do care. Fast. Hard. Rough. Please." He wrapped his arms around his husband, his fingers digging into the skin on the other man's back immediately. He pulled his partner closer, his lips finding John's neck and he began sucking and biting on it.
John grunted against Sherlock's lips and exposed more of his neck for his husband. "Okay," he gasped out, reaching over to grab the gun oil. There was so much happening to his body and he couldn't help but moan loudly. Scratching. Biting. "Shit." He opened the bottle and messily poured some oil on two of his fingers, reaching between them to enter Sherlock and move at a rapid pace to prepare him.
Once one side of John's neck was marked, Sherlock went to work on the other side. He let out a loud, throaty growl when he felt the fingers inside of him. He jolted forward into the probing phalanges with a moan. His fingers continued to scratch, digging deeper in his excitement. Thin red streaks began to form on his husband's back.
How had they not done this in the past few months? John gasped and moaned, his back arching into the scratches. He couldn't wait any longer, pulling his fingers out of Sherlock. "Love you." He grabbed the gun oil and poured more in his hand, slicking up his cock before situating himself. He grabbed one of Sherlock's legs and lifted it to rest on his shoulder, glancing at his husband before entering him with one fast thrust forward.
Sherlock took a moment to stop sucking on John's neck. "But you only just met me Captain." He gave his husband a smirk but it was short lived when he felt his partner enter. He moaned, his head dropping back onto the pillow. His fingers continued to scratch, his lower body moving in time with the man above him.
"Don't care," John growled back. "Sometimes you j-just know." He sucked in a breath as his hips started a rough pace, fast and hard. One hand lifted to grab the headboard. They had been pushed slightly up the bed with every thrust and he needed to stop it. His other hand move to run down his husband's chest, stopping at his belly button. He moaned as his hips snapped forward quickly three times.
Sherlock had to drop his hand from John's back and onto the bed. His fingers tangled into the sheets to help grip him in place. His eyes closed, as he took it all in. A moan escaped his lips every time he felt his husband thrust inside deeper. He continued to rock in time with his partner.
"Loud, are you Mister Holmes?" John managed to stutter out. The muscles in his torso tensed as his hips moved forward faster, the hand holding Sherlock's leg on his shoulder digging into the skin. His hand slid from the headboard and gripped his husband's hip, holding him still and pinning him to the mattress. His thrusts got more aggressive as he stopped Sherlock from moving. "Want me to touch you, Sir?" He growled.
Sherlock cracked open an eye to stare up at John, a slight smirk on his. "Like control do you Captain?" Both eyes opened and he held the gaze for a moment before looking away, a sign of his submission. "Yes Sir, Captain Sir. Please?" His gaze traveled back to his husband briefly before glancing away demurely again.
Complete control. This was the first time John had ever been given complete control. He smirked down at Sherlock and moved his hand off of his husband's hips, moving to grab his cock. He kept his hand still for a moment as his thrusts pushed him harder against Sherlock. After a long moment his hand started a fast, tight rhythm on Sherlock's erection.
Come to think of it, Sherlock had never really given control to John before. They had tried before but at some point he'd always taken it away from the other man. He was determined to let his husband be in charge this time. His body relaxed a bit as his partner rammed into him, a moan escaping each time. Between having John inside of him and his husband jerking him off, he was in ecstasy bliss.
"Fuck, yes." John let out a loud moan as he moved to straighten his back. Less contact with Sherlock just added to their roles and to his power. "Tell me how much you like it," he demanded with a low moan. "Talk about it. Want to hear your voice." His hips slowed slightly as he waited for the man below him to comply.
Sherlock couldn't help the brief smirk the crossed his lips. John was really enjoying his role. God, why was it such a turn on? With effort he managed not to make himself squirm in all the excitement. "Oh Captain, don't stop. Please. Need you." One hand reached up to gently stroke along his husband's arm, craving a bit more contact but quickly let it drop back to his side.
"Ah, God." John let the muscles in his arm tense at Sherlock's touch. His hips started moving faster instantly, his eyes narrowed as he locked his focus on the hand wrapped around Sherlock's penis. "God, you feel wonderful," he muttered as his hips moved faster. He was hitting Sherlock with his hips hard enough to make him wince slightly. "Ah, Christ, Sir." His head dropped and his eyes slid closed.
Sherlock's grip on the sheets returned, as he wrapped the bedding around his fingers and turning them white with the strain. His eyes closed again as he tried to control his increasingly rapid and irregular breaths. "…'sgood…" He managed to slur out. After having climaxed three times today already he was surprised he had lasted so long. With a shout, his body tensed as he came. His body relaxed once more, the intakes and outtakes of air rapid and sharp.
John watched Sherlock with a proud smirk, thrusting into his husband a few more times before he came. He fell forward, catching himself with his elbow on either side of his husband's head, his hand wiping Sherlock's mess down the man's chest with a smirk. "That was good, Sir," he muttered with a sharp intake of breath.
Sherlock looked down at his chest with an arched brow. He took a moment to catch his breath before speaking. "I am going to need to clean up now Captain. Care to join me in the shower? Is that safe? I don't need your permission now do I Captain?" He sat up on the bed, not sure how long this role play was actually supposed to last so he just decided to keep it going.
"Hush, Sherlock," John giggled and rolled off of him, resting on his back. It was clear he was proud of himself. "I just shagged you with gun oil." His eyes closed and he laughed. "Want me to shower with you? That was in the moment, I swear. Sorry." He let his eyes move down to his husband's chest sheepishly.
Sherlock smirked and shrugged. "Only if you want to my dear doctor." He got up off the bed and walked to the bathroom, with a slight sideways limp. He flicked on the light and started the water, letting it run for a bit. He ignored the water that splashed onto the floor, as the temperature of the water rose. God, he hurt but it had been worth it. He finally entered the shower, making room in case John had followed after.
From the way his husband walked it was obvious that John may have been a bit rough. He moved from the bed slowly and moved into the bathroom, moving slowly into the shower. "Sorry." He stood behind Sherlock and placed a soft kiss on his husband's shoulder blade. "Didn't mean to hurt you." His hands slid to his partner's lower back and gently massaged the muscles there. "Guess I won't be doing that again anytime soon." He chuckled and pressed his forehead against Sherlock's back.
Sherlock smiled and leaned into John's body a bit. "It's fine. I asked for it rough." He just stood there for a moment, letting the hot water spray over him. It was nice just to stand there in his husband's arms. Nothing to worry or care about. Just here and now. This moment. Perfect. With any luck the whole month would go this well.
John wanted to live in this moment for the rest of his life, keep Sherlock safe and close to him forever. "Got a bit into the moment," he admitted softly. They had never tried anything like that before but John was feeling a bit daring after everything they had done so far today. "Did you like it?"
Sherlock nodded. "Yeah. Different but fun." He was quiet for a thoughtful moment. "Liked it. Like when you have control like that," he admitted softly. He had never planned on telling John that ever but until today things between them had been strained. Perhaps with this new start he should being a little more honest…open.
John couldn't help the small smile on his face. "That's good. I liked it. Very new for me." He let his tongue dart out to lick up Sherlock's spine, his arms winding around his husband's waist and squeezing. "We have got a whole month to do stuff like that. But next time I will try not to hurt you."
Sherlock's eyes closed and he leaned against John further. "I love you." He didn't really care about the shower at this point. Just being with his husband was enough right now. He slid his hands down the length of his partner's legs until he couldn't reach anymore and then trailed back up the way they came.
If John Watson had to pick his favorite thing it would be when Sherlock Holmes said 'I love you' first. Those words out of his mouth meant the most. "I love you too," he murmured into his husband's back. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." And he didn't care if it sounded cheesy. It was true. Without Sherlock he would have ended up with a bullet through his skull. One he put there himself.
Sherlock finally turned around to face John. He pressed forward gently, so his husband would be against the shower wall. He leaned down and met his husband's lips. The kiss was slow but purposeful. One hand rested against John's hip and the other rested next to his husband's head against the slick wall. The water was no longer hot, but the cooler temperature didn't deter from kissing John.
Had Sherlock read his mind? Felt how tense John was and out everything together? Because his second favorite thing was Sherlock starting a kiss, especially slow ones that left him breathless. He opened his mouth without hesitation, surrendering to Sherlock's as he lifted his arms to wrap around his husband's neck. If there was ever a doubt that something was still wrong between them it was definitely gone now. His hip pressed slightly against Sherlock's hand as he let his tongue move slowly into his partner's mouth.
Sherlock whimpered into John's mouth as their bodies pressed together even more. By no means was he ready for another go again, but he enjoyed how close they were. He had missed it. Now he couldn't stop touching his husband, needing constant physical contact. He wanted to keep the kiss going so he began breathing heavily through his nose.
Breathing heavy through his nose. Didn't want to pull away. Fuck, John loved Sherlock. His tongue ran across the roof of Sherlock's mouth before he slowly pulled away. He needed to breathe. "I love you," he whispered as he placed a peck on his husband's lips. "I love you," he repeated with another kiss.
"I love you too." Sherlock shivered from the now icy cold water. He looked down at John with a small smile, his hand coming up to stroke his husband's face. Another chill rippled through his body and he moved away from his partner and turned off the water. He stepped out of the shower, quickly dried off and then used another dry towel to wrap around himself to help contain what body heat he had left. He turned to look at John with a smirk. "I think you are going to have to warm me up my dear doctor. Perhaps snuggling under the covers would help."
John stepped from the shower with a small laugh. "I think I could do that," he whispered with a small smile, running his towel over his body before drying off his hair. "It shouldn't be too bad." He walked by Sherlock with a mischievous smile. They couldn't shag anymore, John wasn't as young as he used to be. But snuggling? He could do that. He moved to lay on the bed, tossing off the top blanket. It was coated in gun oil, they would need to wash it. He lifted the blanket that was left and smiled up at Sherlock. "C'mon," he whispered.
Sherlock didn't need a second invitation. He dropped the towel on the floor and crawled under the covers with John. He snuggled in next to his husband immediately. His head rested on his partner's chest, an arm draping over the other man's stomach. He laid on his side, he was still tender. "Tired," he mumbled before closing his eyes. His whole body relaxed and his breathing became slow and even as sleep over took him.
Sleep. Sherlock was sleeping next to him. They hadn't done this in a month. He had started to realize he would be sleeping on his own but now he wondered how he ever did it. John glanced down at his husband with a warm smile, studying his face as he slept. Relaxed. Pressed against his side. John wasn't ready to fall asleep, wasn't ready to face the nightmares that always waited for him. Before long, though, he couldn't fight it anymore and fell asleep holding Sherlock close to him.