Author's Note:

Just more cute Johnlock fluff. Thanks for the reviews!

Sherlock smiled. Good. John had fallen asleep. The honeymoon was turning out better than he could have ever imagined. His husband was right, this was better than Scotland and the trip had only just begun. Surely things could only get better. Eventually enough time went by that the tide began to ebb, and now the water only came to crash around his feet and ankle.

John woke up slowly, stretching in the sand and tensing slightly when he realized Sherlock was next to him. "Hi," he muttered. He glanced down at his chest. A little burned but no harm done. "Sorry, didn't mean to sleep so long."

"It is fine. You needed it. I keep wearing you out it seems." Sherlock smirked and turned his head to look at John. "Ready to go back to the house or do you want to just continue laying here on the beach? I'm not sure I am as tan a you would like." The smirk got bigger and he leaned over to give his husband a gentle kiss on the lips.

"Mmm." John returned the kiss with a smile. "You always look fine. I wouldn't mind some dinner." He stretched again and glanced up at the sky. "Are you hungry? I could cook if you are." He had to keep reminding himself to not force Sherlock to do anything that he didn't want to do. Eating, sleeping, anything.

"No, but we can get something to eat if you want. I can cook for you again, while you laugh at me for being domestic." Sherlock's smirk returned. He sat up, tugging John up gently with him. "You said something about pasta earlier, yes?"

John stood, stumbling slightly and falling against his husband. "Yeah." He nodded and looked up at Sherlock. "There is shrimp in the freezer, Alfredo sauce in a cabinet." He placed a soft kiss on his husband's lips and tugged him toward the house. "Want me to make some tea?"

Sherlock supported John and held onto the other man for a moment. "You okay?" He kissed the top of his husband's head. "Shrimp Alfredo, I think I can manage that. Garlic bread? Maybe a salad?" He followed his partner back to the house.

"Must be a little dehydrated." John muttered with a small laugh. "I will have to drink some water when we get inside." He squeezed his husband's hand as they entered the small beach house, letting out a small sigh at how cool it was. It felt good on his slightly heated skin.

"Sit down my dear doctor and take it easy." Sherlock led John to a chair at the table and then let go of his husband's hand. He walked to the fridge, opened it, grabbed a bottle of water and then walked back to his partner. "Here, nice and cold." He smiled and placed the bottle on the table.

How in the world had he domesticated Sherlock Holmes? John took the bottle of water slowly, keeping his eyes locked on his husband. "Thanks," he muttered, twisting the cap off and taking a small sip. "What did you do before I moved in?" He asked softly.

Sherlock paused for a moment before replying and shrugged. "I had a servant, but that didn't last long. I slept and ate even less than I do now. Drugs kept me going for a long time, until it almost killed me." Another shrug. "Lestrade helped me get clean...so did Mrs. Hudson... I did solve a lot of cases in those five years." He turned away from John and walked into the kitchen.

John watched his husband for a moment, swallowing hard and slowly standing up. He knew about the drugs. Everybody knew. Sherlock's little escapes really weren't a secret. "Hey, I'm sorry." He approached his husband from behind and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist. "I am just... curious. You know a bit about me before we met. I just... you know, where? Who got you into it?" He placed a soft kiss between Sherlock's shoulder blades, grimacing slightly at the taste of the lotion.

Sherlock tensed briefly but then relaxed into John a bit, but he didn't turn around when he spoke again. "First drug I ever tried was cocaine. I was just barely fifteen. One of the servant's at the manor, the pool boy, got me some. His name was Theodore but everyone just called him Teddy. Anyway, Mum found out eventually and he was fired immediately. It was too late by then. Almost a year had gone by before anyone noticed. I was in and out of rehab until I was eighteen. Dad kicked me out then. You want to know why I work so well with the homeless, how I got that network set up? It is because I was homeless, for a little while anyway. That was where I discovered heroine, and I found I quite liked it much better than cocaine. The effects are much quicker, since it is injected into your veins. Mummy worried about me living on the street so she opened up a trust fund for me, dumped a bunch of cash in it and put it in my name. Dad was furious when he found out." A faint smile crossed his lips at the memory. "On one of my sober days, I offered my assistance to the Yard. Lestrade was working the case of course, and I solved it in a day after the police had been stumped for a month. That is how it started, how I became a consulting detective. Only, there wasn't always a case to keep me occupied or focused and I would slip into old habits." The words were spoken quickly, almost rushed, like he just wanted to get the story out and over with.

John tensed slightly, listening and closing his eyes. The drugs had been known but... all of that? It sounded surreal, like it wasn't Sherlock's life. "I love you," he finally muttered, sucking in a shallow breath. Was he crying? He pulled away from his husband's back, with a small roll of his eyes. What the Hell had happened to him after Afghanistan? In that moment he felt fiercely protective of his husband. He wanted to take away every bad moment in his life and replace it with a good one. He wanted to find that bastard pool boy and beat him for ruining Sherlock's life. "I am sorry, I didn't... I shouldn't have asked."

Sherlock shrugged it off. "It happened. I can't do anything to change it, so no point in worrying about it. I am clean now." Distraction. Food. Cooking. Yes he was going to cook John dinner. Luckily his husband hadn't asked why. He wasn't sure he could handle recounting that story, or if he ever would be ready to tell it. Just ignore it. Lock it away. It was the reason he had let go of emotions. It was better to feel nothing than what he had growing up. John made him feel again and he was certain remembering would destroy him and he would run back to the drugs again. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He had told himself he was going to start cooking but he hadn't moved one step from his spot.

John moved in front of Sherlock slowly, lifting up his left arm and studying it. Little scars. Little reminders that his husband had to live with every day. "You are beautiful," he whispered as he lowered his mouth to the scars, kissing them gently. "And I don't care what happened in your past because it led you straight to me, didn't it?" A ghost of a smile took over his lips as he glanced up at his husband. His lips moved again, paying attention to any little scar he could find. "You are perfect." His free hand moved to run gently down Sherlock's bare stomach.

Sherlock was startled for a moment before he realized it was John in front of him. He forced a smile and nodded. Without thinking he wrapped his arms around his husband in a tight hug and it took him a moment to find control and to loosen his grip on John. He needed the closeness and the comfort that he could only find in his partner's arms.

Despite the fact that John couldn't breathe for a moment, he returned the hug without a second thought. "I will never bring it up again," he said against his husband's chest. If it meant putting Sherlock through everything he had just heard then he could live with knowing about his partner in the here and now, not about what put him in John's arms. "And I will fight to make your life the most perfect one in the world. You deserve at least that."

For a long moment he clung to John in silence. He cleared his throat after releasing his husband. "Right then. I was going to cook you dinner." He gave his partner a faint, reassuring smile before turning his attention to the fridge and then the pantry.

"Not hungry," John replied instantly. He was going to comfort his husband. Period. There wasn't a choice. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him toward the living room, down the few steps that separated it from the kitchen. "Lay with me," he whispered, falling on to the couch on his back. His legs spread and he motioned for Sherlock to lay on him. "I want to be close to you."

Sherlock frowned a bit but followed John anyway. He curled into his husband almost immediately. He would never turn down a chance to be close to his partner. He pressed his head into John's shoulder, his knees bending and legs pulled up against him. One hand found his husband's hair to run through and the other hung off the couch.

"I read somewhere online that just laying with somebody you love helps relieve stress," John whispered, his fingers running gently up and down his husband's lower back. "Helps make people relax, which you need," he added softly. Sherlock would never admit it, and John would never force him, but the man needed to take a break sometimes, just relax and let somebody love him. "We can talk about your glorious hair. How adorable you are when you sleep."

Sherlock remained silent. He really didn't feel like talking anymore. He was stressed, every muscle in his body told him that. Maybe just laying with John would help. After awhile he tilted his head up so he could look at his husband. "A massage?" It had worked wonders on him last time. Perhaps it could help now.

John looked down at his husband and smiled softly. "Yeah, of course." He glanced around the living room for a moment. The floor was carpeted and it had felt rather soft on his feet. "Floor? More room down there." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock wasn't used to asking others for things. Well, he was but never things he actually wanted or needed. When John agreed he returned the other man's smile. He got off the couch, grabbed a pillow and laid down on the floor. He partially buried his face into the pillow, as he tried to relax his body as much as he could.

"Good." John settled for straddling Sherlock's upper thighs, reaching up and starting at his husband's neck. "Just take deep breaths," he instructed as his fingers worked at the knots he found at the base of Sherlock's neck. He moved his fingers gently in the same motion before moving down on the inside of his husband's shoulder blades. It should have been arousing, the last ones certainly were, but he was so focused on making Sherlock relax that his only feeling was love.

Sherlock groaned into the pillow. In some areas it hurt for awhile until his muscles finally loosened up. He concentrated on breathing, making sure to inhale and exhale deeply. "Feels good," he said as he let his eyes close. He hadn't fallen asleep, but he was certain he was well on his way there.

"I know," John stated with a cocky grin, despite the fact that his husband couldn't see it. "You are doing good, almost done." He worked his thumbs under Sherlock's shoulder blades. After that he was quiet, smiling a bit. The man's body was almost limp and it looked like Sherlock was on his way to take a little bit of a nap. Good, he needed it. One night of sleep, which was really five hours for Sherlock, wasn't enough to fix the damage he had done to his body in the past month.

Sherlock groaned some more. His body continued to relax from John's touch. He felt himself drifting off to sleep. "Tired," he muttered into the pillow. "Love you, thank you." Sleep found him after that, his entire body going limp.

John smiled. Sherlock Holmes sleeping. The eighth wonder of the world. He moved slowly off of his husband, grabbing a blanket from the small basket beside the couch, and tossed it over the sleeping form. After a few moments of watching his sleeping partner he moved to the kitchen, grabbing everything he needed to start preparing a small dinner.

Sherlock slept much longer than he had intended. He groaned as he woke up. He looked out the window, it was dark now. "Only wanted to take a quick nap," he muttered to himself. He sat up from the floor to look around the house bleary eyed. He stood up, stretching his long limbs out. "John?" He called out, so as to locate his husband.

"Kitchen," John replied. Shit, now he was nervous. He had only made Sherlock half a plate, just to play it safe. He didn't want to force food on his husband. The wine had been simple enough to find, the two cups set on the table. The candles, on the other hand, had taken quite a bit of time to discover but once he found them he smiled. It was perfect. A small, romantic dinner. Wine. Candles. "I... I mean, if you're not hungry you don't have to eat but..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just, you know, in case." He dropped his head to hide his blush.

Sherlock looked at the set up, a small smile spreading on his lips. "What is all of this my dear doctor?" He sat down in the chair where the plate of food was placed. He was a little hungry; he really hadn't eaten in the past month. Less than usual, mainly due to sheer stubbornness. It was a little reminiscent of when they had first had dinner at Angelo's almost two years ago.

John looked up slowly, managing a small smile himself. "A romantic dinner," he replied softly. When Sherlock had fallen asleep he had decided to show the man how loved he was, how important he was. Romantic dinner. That was what everybody in the movies did, right? "I found some really good wine... and candles." He sat down in his chair and nodded a bit. "Do you like it, then?"

Romantic dinner? He wasn't sure he would get the concept of 'romantic' but Sherlock did understand that John was trying to do something nice. He smiled. "It is nice, thank you." He picked up a fork and knife. He cut up some of the food on the plate and ate a forkful. "Not half bad my dear doctor." He gave his husband a smirk and continued eating.

John laughed. "Shrimp Alfredo isn't too difficult," he replied as took a bite. It could have been a bit better but it would do. He reached forward and took a drink from his wine. "You looked wonderful asleep on the floor," he stated with a grin as he set his glass down. "All spread eagle, snoring into your pillow." He took another bite of food. "Had trouble focusing on the food."

"I am sure. My amazing and perfect good looks are very distracting." Sherlock smirked once more and took another bite. He looked at his cup of wine for a moment. He hadn't had alcohol since getting drunk at Lestrade's. He already had a drug problem and didn't want to add alcohol to the list. Though he supposed as he long as he didn't overdo it should be fine. He reached over and grabbed the glass and took a drink.

John watched Sherlock intently as he drank from the glass. It was difficult to think back to the beginning of their relationship, back to Moriarty and when his husband had purposely gotten drunk. He hoped that one little glass of wine would be alright. "Your Mum went all out," he said as he took a large bite of food. "Expensive wine." He blushed. "I even looked around the room. She is... spoiling us, that's for sure."

"Did you check out the sheets on the bed? Egyptian cotton. 3,000 thread count if I am not mistaken." Sherlock took another bite of food. "At least, that is the kind she keeps around the manor." He smirked and shrugged a bit. "Wouldn't be surprised if the wine came from our cellar, Dad was a connoisseur and enjoyed fine wine."

"I did, made the bed while you were asleep. Looked around." John took a bite of food as the blush spread to the tips of his ear. Still awkward. "We, um, we certainly won't be running out of lube." He quickly shoved more food in his mouth after the statement. Still embarrassing.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh, luckily his mouth wasn't full at the time. "You shouldn't be so surprised my dear doctor." He took another bite of his food, a big smirk on his face. He finished up the pasta on his plate. He picked up the glass of wine and rolled it around in his fingers for a little bit before taking another drink.

John finished his own meal quickly. "Just a bit... different," he muttered. "That your Mum knows. Honestly, some of them are flavored, Sherlock." He grabbed his glass of wine and downed the rest of it in two large gulps. "You don't mind the wine, then? I was a bit hesitant but it fit." He shrugged and stood up, pouring himself a second glass.

Sherlock smirked even bigger. "Flavored? Oh, why that sounds like it could be fun. We will have to try some of those out." He watched John finish the glass of wine with an arched brow. "It is fine. Like it better than scotch. One glass will be enough for me." He continued to sip on his wine.

Try it? John coughed and sputtered, looking at his husband with wide eyes. "W-What?" He glanced at his cup for a moment and nodded, taking several large gulps from the glass. He didn't think he was ready for this type of conversation. Change the topic. "Right. Better than scotch." He nodded and finished his second glass. Maybe wine hadn't been such a wonderful idea when he knew he was going to be nervous.

Sherlock watched John with an amused look. He was quiet for a thoughtful moment as he sipped the rest of his wine. He placed his glass on the table, got up and walked over to his husband. "You okay?" He wrapped his arms around his partner in a small but comforting hug. He kissed the top of John's head, still holding the other man close.

John closed his eyes and leaned into his husband, burying his face against Sherlock's chest. "Nervous," he whispered softly. The world was already spinning slightly. He was definitely tipsy. "Wanted to impress you and... I have plans." His arms moved slowly to wrap around his husband's lower back. "Want to make you happy."

"Nervous? About what?" Sherlock kissed the top of John's head again, as he pulled his husband into a tighter hug. "Do I get to know these plans or is this another one of your surprises?" He pulled away from his partner so he could look down at John. He inspected his husband with a critical eye, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

John took a deep breath and looked up at his husband. "C'mere." He reached around his body to grab Sherlock's hand, pulling him into their room and then into the bathroom. After a hesitant pause he opened the door. The only light in the room was from candles spread out across the massive bathroom. The Jacuzzi tub was filled with water, bubbles resting on the top. "I- Just nervous," he said as he glanced back at Sherlock and squeezed his hand. "Wanted you to like it."

Sherlock followed after John curiously. His eyebrows shot up when he saw the bathroom. Was this one of those romantic things his husband kept talking about it? "It's…nice…" Why was John trying so hard to impress him? It was all very flattering but not really his style. Just another area where he had failed his husband. Apparently romance was just another concept beyond his grasp.

"You don't like it," John muttered as his shoulders dropped. It was something new for them, really. Sherlock's grasp on romantic was just as shaky as his own. Wonderful. "Right. Sorry." He let go of Sherlock's hand with a small shrug. "Thought it was worth a try, you know?" He said evenly, trying to keep emotion from his voice. He stood in the doorway and examined the bathroom. "We can do something else." He turned to look at Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned a bit. He had ruined whatever John had planned, hadn't he? "It is nice, I'm just not sure I know what exactly you had in mind…" He gave a faint smirk. "Imagine that, me not being able to figure something out." He drew his husband into a hug once more, tilting his head down to meet John's lips.

John didn't think twice about returning the kiss, his arms moving to wrap around his husband. "A romantic bath," he whispered. They were still in their suits from earlier, it would be smart to wash everything off. "You know, me washing you with fancy smelling oils, all that stuff your Mum left us for a reason." He met Sherlock's lips again as he started to back up, reaching between them to start undoing his husband's swimming suit.

Sherlock gave a smile and nodded. "Okay." He was still sensitive and he couldn't help the moan that escaped his lips from John simply removing his swim suit. Everything was heightened and it all felt more intense than usual. He deepened the kiss and pulled his husband closer to him still, desiring more intimate contact.

John exhaled loudly from his nose, pressing against Sherlock eagerly. "Don't have to do anything," he told his husband softly. This wasn't about making love, it hadn't been when he had put all of it together. It was about showing Sherlock how loved he was and how much he meant to John. He pulled his own suit off and pulled away from Sherlock's lips with a smile. He climbed into the bath and situated himself to sit against the back. "Here, right here." He spread his legs slightly so his husband could sit between them.

Sherlock got in the Jacuzzi and straddled John's lap. He pressed his lips against his husband's again, his tongue wasting no time at all to explore the other mouth. The hot, bubbling water felt good on in his skin but being close to John felt even better. "Love you," he murmured behind the kiss as it got a bit more aggressive.

While it wasn't what John had in mind, he certainly couldn't complain about how this was turning out so far. He wanted to reply but returned his husband's kiss instead, moving his hands rested at Sherlock's lower back. He arched his neck slightly, stretching his torso, to press against Sherlock's mouth to match the man's aggression. He let out a soft moan and nipped at his partner's lower lip.

Sherlock moaned, writhing into John now. He hadn't intended for this to happen, but as soon his husband had started undoing his swim suit it had kick started everything. Now he couldn't keep his hands off of John, not that he wanted to stop this anyway. He moved his lips to his husband's neck to begin sucking on it excitedly. He pressed into to John again, a moan escaping him. He brought a hand up to run through John's hair.

There was no mistaking that at all. That was Sherlock's erection pressing incessantly against John's stomach. "Oh, God." His fingers curled and dug into his husband's lower back at the feeling of Sherlock's mouth on his neck. This was not exactly relaxing but Sherlock wanted it. Who was he to turn his wonderful husband down? Everything the man was doing was perfect. The hand in his hair, his mouth... He couldn't stop now. Except, to be honest, this was all about Sherlock anyway. He let himself relax marginally, taking a deep breath.

Sherlock moaned again. It was amazing to him that he could still get hard with as many times as they had shagged recently. He moved his lips up the neck to John's ear where he began nibbling on it. His free hand moved down to caress his husband's penis, squeezing gently. He continued to press into John, another moan escaping him.

The hand on John's cock made him jump slightly, pressing up into his husband's hand. He felt Sherlock move against him and moaned, scratching gently at his husband's lower back. "Want me to touch you?" John asked softly, swallowing hard and moving a hand around to rest on Sherlock's lower stomach.

Sherlock growled in response to the scratching. "Oh God yes," he whispered into John's ear. He started a firm but steady rhythm on his husband's penis. His body continued to press and buck into his partner eagerly. He moved his lips back to John's, kissing with aggression once more. His other hand began scratching through his husband's hair with a little more pressure.

John complied and grabbed his husband's penis, matching the rhythm that Sherlock was doing. He hissed against Sherlock's mouth, returning the kiss and biting Sherlock's bottom lip. On the beach, Sherlock had drawn blood. For some reason John wanted to do the same. He arched into his husband with a loud moan, tearing away from the kiss when he heard some water splash over the side and hit the floor.

Sherlock moaned and leaned into John's touch. When his husband broke the kiss he began biting and sucking on the other side of his partner's neck. The pace became faster in his excitement, another growl escaping him. He pressed and squirmed into John's lower torso roughly.

"Shit." John tilted his head slightly to bite down on his husband's shoulder. It was good. He was sensitive and just Sherlock's hand was perfect. "Don't stop," he moaned with an excited buck of his hips. This was more than he had planned but now he wondered how he thought he would be able to keep his hands off Sherlock. "Love you."

The bite made Sherlock moan loudly into John's neck and he had to stop sucking to intake deep breaths of air. Another moan as he came, and the hand in the hair had to grip the side of the Jacuzzi so he wouldn't collapse completely in the water. His forehead rested on his husband's shoulder as he continued his deep breathing. His other hand managed to keep a moderate pace on John's cock, though it had slowed down a bit after he had climaxed.

John gasped and came immediately after Sherlock, slipping slightly deeper into the tub. "Fu-" He took a deep breath and whimpered and rested his head on Sherlock's. "God." His chest was heaving but he smiled, his arms wrapping around his husband's lower torso. "Love you."

Once he was able to breathe a little normally he spoke. "Love you too. 'sgood." Sherlock remained mostly still, except for his still heaving chest. His hand on his husband's penis fell to his side. He gave John's shoulder a small kiss. "Sorry if I ruined your plans," he murmured, eyes closing as he still concentrated on breathing properly.

"Made the plans better," John said with a smirk, turning to kiss his husband's ear. He took more deep breaths and grinned. "Good. Loved it." He jumped a little as a small noise started under them. The water was heated again. "Of course," he giggled and glanced at his husband. "It heats the water up."

Sherlock lifted his head and smirked at John. "Good. I'm glad." He wondered if they would be able to keep going like this. If maybe after a month of nothing they were just desperate for the constant contact. Perhaps tomorrow they should take it easy. Do silly domestic things that he usually found boring. Maybe John had plans? "What do you want to do tomorrow my dear doctor?"

"Sleep," John replied slowly, yawning a bit. "We could go walk around the village that is up here, try wine." He shrugged and glanced at his husband. "Eat a little. Or... I'll eat a little." He chuckled and pulled Sherlock a little closer. "What about you? Any ideas?"

"Whatever you want to do is fine with me." Sherlock smiled and kissed John's forehead. "We should probably try to behave, before one of has a heart attack." The smile twisted into a smirk. "Come on. If you are tired we can go to bed." He stood up, his body getting goose bumps from the air being cooler than the water in the Jacuzzi.

John watched his husband with a smile. The man was trying. Really trying. Sure, he had ruined the romantic bath but he'd done so with... want? Need? He liked the feeling, really, of Sherlock not being able to keep his hands away. It made him feel loved because how else was Sherlock going to show it? He stood slowly, grabbing a towel and instantly wrapping it around his husband. "You don't have to sleep," he reminded Sherlock softly.

Sherlock climbed out of the Jacuzzi and took the towel with a smile. "I already slept, so I probably won't sleep again for awhile," he admitted with a slight shrug. He dried himself off and then let the towel fall to the floor. He stepped back into the bedroom and sought out the warmth of the covers. When John was in next to him, he snuggled in next to his husband immediately.