Author's Note:
Trouble in paradise? Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review!
Sherlock slept awhile. It was dark when his eyes opened. He groaned quietly, shifting slightly so he could look at the watch on his wrist using the moon light shining through the window. It was a little after four in the morning local time. He had gone to bed cold but was now warm snuggled into John's side. He lifted his head to glance up at his husband's face.
John woke slowly as he felt Sherlock's chest movements change with his breathing. Christ, it was dark still. Why was his husband awake? He groaned and opened his eyes, blinking several times as he finally focused on Sherlock. "Morning," he muttered lowly, his eyes slipping closed again. "How did you sleep?"
"Best sleep I have had in awhile," Sherlock admitted. "Sorry if I woke you. If you are still tired go back to sleep. I will still be here when you wake up. Too warm and comfortable to leave." He gave a small smirk and a sideways hug to his husband.
"No, ' sfine." John lifted his free hand and rubbed at his eyes with a yawn. They had literally shagged non-stop yesterday. How could Sherlock be awake? He wasn't going to fall asleep, either. His dreams were slowly morphing into the desert of Afghanistan. He didn't want to go back. "We could go watch the sunrise. Snog on our private beach," he offered with a still sleepy voice.
Sherlock sat up slowly, grimacing a bit. Christ, he still hurt. Felt more sensitive this morning than yesterday. He was already missing the warmth of his husband and the sheets. He didn't feel like getting dressed but didn't want to sit on the sandy beach in the nude. He had a robe packed in his luggage. He stood finally and began looking through his clothes.
John watched Sherlock with a bit of a frown. "Sorry," he muttered with a bit of a rueful smile in his husband's direction. He felt bad that his husband was in pain but he had done that. He was a bit proud. How could he not? "I will take that as a yes, then. You standing up." He pushed the blanket away slowly and moved toward his bag, yanking on a new pair of boxers and pajama pants. Shirtless. Might as well, they were going to be on the beach. And that way Sherlock wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of him.
Sherlock slipped into his robe once he found it. He smirked at John with a shrug. "It is fine my dear doctor." He walked up to his husband and took his hand. He led his partner out of the house and out to the beach. He gazed up at the stars, orienting himself directionally. "Come on. Sun will rise over this way."
John followed Sherlock without question, smiling softly at the feel of the sand beneath his toes. "Want to be near the water," he whispered as he jogged slightly to catch up to Sherlock. It was wonderful out on the beach. Barely any light so they could see almost every star, see the flow of the Milky Way. "Y'know, in Afghanistan, I would sit and count the stars in the sky before I went to bed. Not much else to do in a little hole in the ground." He squeezed his husband's hand. "And last time... I thought of you with me, telling me how silly it was to try and count them all."
Sherlock stopped by the shoreline, the water lapping at their feet gently. It was a nice, calm night. Perfect weather for their perfect and much needed getaway. He laid down carefully, laying on his side once more. When John was next to him, he leaned into his husband and took his partner's hand yet again. He smirked a bit, certain John would laugh at him for this next statement. "Nice night." Weather. Of all things to talk about he was discussing something so domestic. What was his world coming to?
What the...? "I cannot believe I just heard you say that," John whispered in shock, turning his head slowly to glance at his husband. "Are we discussing the weather? Sherlock Holmes, Hell just froze over." He grinned and moved his head to gently meet Sherlock's lips, squeezing his hand. "I love you, you silly git," he mumbled against Sherlock's lips, smiling tiredly. "And yes, it is a nice night."
Sherlock grinned back and shrugged as he returned the kiss. "Well, technically it is morning now." The grin twisted into a smirk. "Love you too dear doctor." He shifted a bit, his head coming to rest on John's shoulder. "You are tired. You should have gone back to sleep." He gave his husband's hand a squeeze.
"I wanted to spend time with you," John explained softly. For the first time in thirty days he had gotten to sleep in the same bed as Sherlock, wake up with his husband's warm body next to him. "Wanted to take advantage of it." He looked up at the stars and slowly let his eyes close. The sand on his bare back was cool and the feeling of the waves on his feet, the sound of the water, was almost too relaxing. His breathing got shallow and the grip on his husband's hand relaxed slightly.
Sherlock smiled. John might get more sleep after all. Good. His husband needed more sleep than he did. Hopefully nightmares wouldn't plague his partner. They had gotten pretty bad over the last month. Probably his fault for being so distant but damn it he was going to fix it. Everything that had happened since leaving the flat was proof of that. Things finally seemed to be getting back to normal for them.
Sand. John felt sand. He slept for fifteen minutes before he jolted awake and took a deep breath. Water. Not a desert. Shit. He cleared his throat and glanced down at Sherlock. That's right, honeymoon. He was supposed to be watching the sunrise with his husband. "Youknow... the past month," he paused. Was it a good idea to bring this up? They hadn't discussed it at all, just danced around each other tensely. But everything was fine now, wasn't it? "I wanted to apologize for anything I did to upset you. I want to because I don't ever want to be in a bed alone. I don't care if it sounds selfish and I don't care if you are tired, but I will fall asleep in your arms every night."
Sherlock frowned and he was quiet awhile, his body tensing a bit. There went their perfect time. "John…" He started off tentatively, unsure where he was going with this. "…when we get back home, I am going to start working again. You know how I get when I'm on a case. I could end up being gone for a couple days at a time…" He sighed internally. He hadn't wanted to fight while on their honeymoon but it seemed to be heading in that direction anyway.
Oh, right. Cases. Sherlock had a job, he had just stopped doing it for God knows how long. "I will make an exception," he stated softly, looking down at Sherlock. "And only if I get one of your coats or silly silk robes to put on a pillow that I can snuggle with. And that's the only way you will be allowed to leave," he stated seriously with a bit of a smile on his face. He didn't want to fight, he wanted to feel close to Sherlock. His hand lifted and reached across his body to run gently through his husband's hair. "I was thinking of taking a job at the surgery anyway," he added. "At Barts, y'know? So I might have to work some nights."
Sherlock merely nodded. This wasn't really a conversation he wanted to be having right now. Stubborn and childish? Probably, but when wasn't he either of those? If John took the job for surgery, would that mean he would work cases alone? That would be…weird… It certainly wouldn't be the same. He started off working alone, so it really shouldn't be that much of change…right?
Silence. "I know you want me to work with you, Sherlock," John whispered softly, meeting his gaze and holding it. "But we have got a family now. One of us needs a steady income. The cases pay so well, Sherlock, but they are just... you know, not an everyday thing." He frowned. The moment was ruined, wasn't it? Because he couldn't keep his bloody mouth shut. Fix it. He shifted and rolled, spreading his legs to straddle Sherlock before gently meeting his husband's lips.
"Stop John," his voice was colder than he had intended. Sherlock gently shoved John away. They couldn't just keep trying to solve their problems by shagging, or kissing, or any kind of intimate contact. Sure it worked for a little while, but it was obvious it wasn't a permanent solution. So, how were things going to work themselves out now? Talking about it didn't seem to be helping either.
John grunted slightly and looked down at his husband, lips pursed. "Sorry," he muttered, standing up and glancing back out at the water. "I will be inside." He lowered his head and walked back toward the house. Fuck it. He had just tried to talk, to work something out, because, yes, they had shagged like rabbits yesterday but that wasn't going to fix the past month. He'd slept alone in their bed, had nightmares that made him scream so loud he'd woken Amy up, scared her. And he would never know why, would only say 'Oh, it was Sherlock being Sherlock' and try to brush it off. But he couldn't. He couldn't just forget that. He reached the double doors to their room and froze for a moment before opening one and going into the house.
Sherlock sighed. Space. Was that what they needed right now? Yeah, because that had worked out so well for the past month. He honestly didn't know what do. How to work through this. He thought they had agreed to start over. A clean slate. John just wasn't ready to let go, he supposed. He sighed again, as he just laid on the beach and watched the sun coming over the horizon alone.
Bed. If John went to the bed he could go back to sleep, forget it. Maybe by the time he woke up everything would be right again. Maybe he would learn how to keep his mouth shut and just move on. He needed to learn that Sherlock was different, that last month was last month and he apparently didn't care. He flopped into the bed, on Sherlock's side, and curled himself tightly into the blanket. It smelled like him. Like expensive soap and wonderful after shave and... Sherlock. It made his stomach twist as he forced his eyes to shut.
Time. Whoever said time makes all things better, that it heals all wounds was a bloody idiot. Sherlock furrowed his brows in thought, eyes squinting against the new day's light. He really wasn't sure if staying out here or going in to check on John was the better choice. He supposed, he would never know. Relationships or social interaction period, had never really been something he was particularly good at. Oh but how he had tried. He had tried, for John.
Of course he wasn't going to sleep. John was upset and he never could sleep while he was all worked up. He violently kicked the blanket off of him, shouting slightly as he moved to his feet. Talk. They needed to talk. He opened the door and moved quickly through the sand. "We need to talk. I don't care if you don't want to, we are both going to stop acting like children and fucking talk." He plopped on to the sand next to his husband, glancing out at the rising sun. "We are married. We have got... to communicate, Sherlock. We haven't been."
Genuine surprise was what Sherlock felt when he heard and saw John. Talk. Right. Bloody fantastic. He was great at talking, but not about this. Not at talking about anything emotional. "Fine. Go ahead talk." Maybe if he let his husband go first, then he would be able to come up with the right answer or at least come up with a solution for this madness.
John turned to glance at Sherlock's face over his shoulder, curling to hug his legs to his chest. "The past month... something went wrong. It happened at your Mum's and I was scared," he stated simply. "I was afraid that you thought marrying me was bad. That you regretted it. So I didn't talk to you for a month. Didn't... ask if you wanted tea, didn't ask if you were coming to bed or if you were going to sleep." His head dropped so his chin could rest on his knees. "We didn't even... kiss, Sherlock. A month after our wedding, while we should have been shagging five times a day." He shrugged the best he could. "I just... wanted to apologize for acting like an idiot, alright? I wanted you to know that I still love you, that I don't regret marrying you... that I want this month to fix everything."
Sherlock listened quietly, eyebrows creased in thought. Up until coming outside, he had thought things were fixed. They were supposed to be starting over but here they were anyway. Really, he was over it but John wanted to talk about. He supposed this was what couples did. Being married was more complicated than he had anticipated. "When we were at my Mum's I was getting frustrated. I felt like you were trying to change me in ways, I really have no intent or desire to change John." He shrugged.
"I realized that, Sherlock, which I why I stopped asking you if you wanted dinner, if you were coming to bed." John rolled on to his back and let his head move so he could study his husband. "So I'm going to stop, alright? If you want dinner then I will know that you should approach me. I shouldn't force it on you." He reached out and grabbed Sherlock's hand and squeezed it. "I'll remember that you don't sleep all the time and I'll have to live with it."
If John had realized all that, then why in God's name were they having this conversation to begin with? Sherlock just decided to nod in agreement. Great. Now what? This had quite possibly be the most pointless conversation he'd ever had with John. At least, that was how it seemed to him. He squeezed his husband's hand back, because he didn't know what else to do at this point in junction.
"I'll keep working with you if you want," John said softly. "I don't have to go to Bart's. We can solve crimes. Or... you can solve crimes and I can pretend to help." he turned slightly and placed a soft kiss on his husband's cheek. "I love you," he whispered.
Sherlock turned to look at John, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. He enveloped his husband in a sideways hug, squeezing as tightly as he could at the slightly awkward angle. "Yes, I would like that." He placed a kiss on the side of his partner's head. "I love you too."
John smiled happily and closed his eyes. There. Smiling and hugging. Better. He turned his head and placed a soft kiss on the underside of Sherlock's jaw, pressing himself against his husband. "Sherlock," he whispered as a hand moved to tangle in the other man's hair.
Despite being sore, Sherlock had an overwhelming need to shag John again. He squeezed his husband closer. His lips found his partner's ear and he began sucking on it, nipping on the bottom lobe every now and then. "Want you again," he admitted quietly. His body squirmed into John's with desire.
"You are sore," John replied softly, moving his hand to Sherlock's back, digging into the robe with a small gasp. Christ, his husband's mouth was wonderful. "Are you sure?" Because this time he would go slow, let Sherlock know how loved he was, how lucky John was to have him. "Have to go inside, don't have anything."
Sherlock nodded. Using some kind of lubrication was important. He had found that out the hard way, from no fault of his own. He released John, stood and then helped his husband to his feet. He grasped his partner's hand and led them back to the beach house.
John stumbled after Sherlock in the sand, smirking slightly at how fast they were walking. "Tell me to stop if you are in pain," he instructed as they entered the house. He turned to his bag and dug through a side pocket, turning to toss it on their bed. As he walked toward the bed he pulled down his pajama pants and boxers, diverting to passionately meet his husband's lips. "I love you. I am sorry about this morning," he said against Sherlock's lips. "Let me make it up to you."
As soon as they got in the bedroom Sherlock disrobed. He returned the kiss and gave a small smile. "You are right, we need to work on communication. Something I am not good at or used to but I will try and work on it." He wrapped John in a hug, holding onto him tightly for a moment and then moved in for another kiss.
John returned the kiss eagerly. Sherlock was agreeing to talk, to work on communicating. He had never wanted Sherlock so bad. "Bed," he begged against his husband's lips, wrapping his arms around Sherlock. "I love you. Need you," he whimpered as he pressed against him. He met Sherlock's gaze and held it, smiling warmly. "We will work on it together."
Sherlock pressed back against John for a moment before moving to the bed. He laid down, moving a pillow up so his head could rest comfortably against the headboard. "Since we will be here a month, we should probably wait to break this thing." He smirked up at John.
"Going to be gentle," John said softly as he knelt between his husband's legs. "I can let you... you are sore. Do you want to...?" Well, this was awkward. How did one phrase this without killing the mood? "I have got an idea if you are really okay." He bent down and gently met Sherlock's lips. "You could lay on your side, I could lay behind you, take you that way."
Sherlock smirked at John. It was always amusing to him to see his husband get flustered. "The side will be fine my dear doctor." He rolled over and laid on his side. Something new. He would never turn down a chance on that. It would probably make contact limited though, for him at least.
John took a deep breath and shifted to lay behind Sherlock, grabbing the lube and putting some on his fingers. "I will wrap my arm around you," he whispered into Sherlock's ear as two fingers entered his husband. "You can reach back, run your hand through my hair." His hips pressed forward fractionally, his erection pressing against his husband's lower back eagerly. "Can't move as well this way, won't hurt you." His fingers moved slowly as he moved to place soft kisses against the back of Sherlock's neck.
Sherlock smiled even though John couldn't see it. He moaned as soon as he felt the fingers enter. The kisses felt wonderful, his eyes closing as a shiver of pleasure rippled through his body. Should work. Different angle, so the area that was tender should be fine. Yes, this would work perfectly.
John pulled his fingers away after a few more moments, getting some more lube and stroking his cock several times. Slow. Don't hurt Sherlock. "I love you," he whispered as an arm moved to wrap around Sherlock's lower stomach. He pressed forward slowly, moaning loudly as he entered his husband. The arm around Sherlock's stomach tightened and pulled him back so they were pressed together, John hips moving slowly and shallowly against his husband. "Love you, fuck."
"Love you too," Sherlock replied as a hand came up to rest on John's. A moan escaped him, when he felt his husband enter. His other hand lifted and reached behind him as he groped blindly to reach his partner's head. Once he felt the soft bristles under his fingertips he began scratching lightly. "Oh God...John..." He trailed off to try and breathe properly.
"T-Tell me," John moaned, cutting himself off as he buried his face against the back of Sherlock's neck. "If it hurts," he whimpered out, his rhythm staying slow. "Here." He sat up slightly, lifting his knee and wedge Sherlock's legs apart. "Bring it back, rest it on top of mine," he muttered, his voice tight. His fingers curled against Sherlock's stomach, scratching lightly as he continued his movements. "Amazing," he whispered, nipping at the back of Sherlock's neck. "Sherlock, pick a name. It is God or John," he joked smoothly.
Sherlock complied with John's request. "...'sgood...don't stop..." He managed to breath out. He tilted his head down a bit so his husband would have better access to it. He snorted at the joke and was going to reply but he moaned instead, fingers scratching through John's head a little rougher. His other hand gripped on tightly to his husband's.
John gasped, his mouth hanging open for a moment as he panted against Sherlock's mouth. He would have to demand that Sherlock keep a hand in his hair every time the made love, it felt amazing. "Oh, yes, Sherlock." He froze for a moment, pressed entirely into his husband as he struggled to breathe. "I want you to know that you are the most amazing man I have ever met," a soft thrust forward, "That I am lucky to have you," another one, "And that you deserved to be loved for the rest of your life and that I hope I can do it."
Sherlock was trying to concentrate on breathing normally, so instead of replying to what John said he simply ran his thumb over his husband's soothingly. With every thrust he moaned, his fingers tugging a bit at any hair long enough now.
Given the fact that they had done everything they could yesterday, John had to slow down to drag this out and make it last. His hips moved with calculated thrusts, pausing for a moment between each one. His hand slid down, away from his husband's, to wrap around Sherlock's cock and start slow, tight strokes. Every thrust ended with a small moan into the back of Sherlock's neck, his teeth occasionally nipping at the skin.
Sherlock arched into John's hand with a moan. Even though the strokes were slow, it didn't take him long to climax. His body relaxed into his husband's with a loud and long moan. "S-sorry..." he stuttered out. He hadn't meant to come so soon, but everything was feeling so wonderful and in less than twenty-four hours they had shagged five times now. His stamina was running low.
John froze for a moment, cleaning his hand off on the sheet. "It is fine," he whispered as his hips started to move faster. "I am almost there," he added as he closed his eyes, focusing on trying to finish. It didn't take too much longer before he was moaning into Sherlock's neck, relaxing and holding his husband close as came down from his high. "Oh, God, that was good." He swallowed hard and giggled. "We need to clean the sheets."