Author's Note:

Just another cute Johnlock chapter.

John shrugged and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "I wanted..." He shrugged and cleared his throat. "I don't know. Marriage. Money. Should we both get a bank account under one name?" He nudged his husband's ear with his nose. Little things. The things that he thought about when he got bored. "Do you want me to get a job?"

Sherlock arched a brow and then shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I have never thought about that stuff before. I have never worried about money, to be honest. Part of the reason I don't asked to get paid by the Yard is because I don't need it. I wasn't looking for a flatmate because I couldn't afford to leave on my own," he paused to clear his throat, "I did it because I was lonely. Couldn't find anyone who would put up with me until you." He gave another shrug and continued on. "We can get an account together if you want. The Yard probably won't pay me but we can start taking payments on private cases if you want, then you can still work with me?"

Suddenly John felt like his heart was in his throat. Lonely. His husband had been lonely. He wanted some sort of companionship. And John... John had given that to him. He took several deep breaths and leaned forward to gently meet Sherlock's lips. Slow, determined. Sherlock needed to know how thankful he was for what had finally brought them together. "I love you," he whispered as he pulled away. "I don't care. I just... Amy. Our family," he said softly.

Sherlock hadn't expected John to kiss him, but it was a pleasant surprise. He returned it, matching the pace of his husband. "I love you too." He was quiet for a moment, as he studied John thoughtfully. "You don't want to work with me anymore, do you?" Maybe he was being selfish by wanting his husband to still help with the cases, but John probably would want to stay at the flat and raise little Sandi. He supposed, one of them should stay home even if that wasn't what he wanted.

John couldn't help but smile a bit, shaking his head. "I want to work with you," he corrected softly. God, did he want to work with Sherlock. He couldn't just stop running around the streets. It was the rush he felt in the war. He couldn't give that up. "Just... oney. I want to make sure that we are making something to support her." He took a deep breath and shrugged. It would be a bit difficult but they had Mrs. Hudson, Nancy, Mycroft and Lestrade. They would manage to make it work. Hell, maybe even Molly would want to watch Amy. "I am going to keep working with you."

Sherlock returned the smile. "I could stop being so picky about the cases I take and start charging for private cases. We will be fine. Besides, I am pretty sure everyone we know is going to spoil her rotten anyway." The smile got bigger. "I am glad you still want to work with me," he admitted. Well, relieved was more like it.

"I could never stop working with you," John whispered with a small laugh. "It is... too amazing. Being with you, running about London like a couple of idiots." He nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip. "So...same bank account. New cards, then. I won't have to yell at chip and pin machines anymore." He giggled and curled his fingers, digging his nails into Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock nodded and then smirked. "Sounds good." He grabbed John's hand and gently tugged his husband toward him so his partner could sit in his lap. Enough talk. He wanted to be close to John. He didn't want to start anything, but he couldn't get enough of being near his husband anymore. There was a time, he supposed, he would have scoffed at such a thing but now he found comfort in it.

John followed his husband's tug without an argument, settling in Sherlock's lap with a soft smile. Being close to Sherlock was something he craved now, a feeling he had really never had before about anybody. That was saying a lot, considering he was about to marry a woman fifteen or so years ago. He curled his legs around Sherlock's torso the best he could with the chair at his husband's back, wrapping his arms tightly around his husband's neck. "I love you," he whispered against Sherlock's temple.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, a hand moving to his husband's hair immediately to run his fingers through the soft bristles. "Love you too." He moved his head back slightly, so he could meet John's lips and began kissing his husband gently. He nipped on his partner's lower lip from time to time.

Kissing. In all honesty, John was fairly sure that snogging Sherlock was better than a lot of things in life. Except...shagging Sherlock. Snogging was certainly a close second, though. It was slow, gentle, and John couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. He sucked at Sherlock's top lip with a small 'pop' and moved a hand to tug gently at his husband's hair.

The tug on his hair made Sherlock moan into the kiss, and he began kissing John a little more aggressively. He moved his free hand so it would scratch along his husband's side, since the back was probably still recovering from last time. He couldn't help but squirm into the body above him. Maybe they would end up shagging tonight after all.

John felt his chest swell proudly but it soon evaporated the moment he felt Sherlock's nails along his side. God, he should have put a shirt on. At this rate he was going to pin Sherlock to any available surface and demand to be shagged. He had never felt this determined to have Sherlock inside of him, slow and loud and perfect. He pulled his lips away from Sherlock's slowly, smiling softly before glancing between them. "If you want to shag me in the morning you better stop that," he said softly with a grin.

"You started it by tugging my hair," Sherlock muttered but ended up matching John's grin. "Well, what should we do then? We have that giant television. I suppose we should watch it at least once. You always suggest crap telly at the flat. I am sure we can find something on, although I might have to translate for you."

"I am well aware," John said smugly, tearing his gaze away from his husband to glance at the telly. "Alright." He shrugged and shifted out of Sherlock's lap. He bounded toward the couch, down the two stairs from the kitchen, as he flopped on the massive piece of furniture. "Lay on top of me," he demanded softly, spreading his legs as he grabbed the remote.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk as he followed John over to the couch. He laid down on his husband immediately, snuggling into the other man. He leaned his back into John's stomach, and settled the back of his head onto his husband's shoulder. He glanced up at the screen to see what they would watch. It didn't really matter to him, since he rarely watched the telly.

John flipped through multiple channels before settling on some horribly cheesy soap opera, dropping the remote to the ground as he grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over them. "What is going on?" He asked softly, one arm moving to wrap around Sherlock so his hand could rest over his husband's heart. A woman on the screen yelled something at two younger children who scampered off in the opposite direction.

Sherlock arched a brow. "The two children are friends. The girl's mother walked in on them. The little girl wanted to see the boy's penis, to see what it looked like. Apparently the two children are actually related, half siblings so it would explain why the mother is so upset." Wow, people watched shows like this?

"You have got to be joking me," John whispered in shock. His hand scrambled desperately for the remote and he flipped up a few channels. Two men fighting, one pointed back. "Fighting over a woman?" He asked curiously, trying to get in on the little game. "The one pointing, he is... the boyfriend? The other one is... I dunno, her husband, I think." He curled his fingers over Sherlock's heart and scratched absently at the skin.

Sherlock studied the scene on the screen. "She is married to them both and they just found out about each other. But yes, they are arguing over her." The woman on the show left the room, crying. The arguing stops and the men whisper conspiratorial. "Now they are a mad at her and they are plotting to the best way to kill her without getting caught."

John giggled and placed a soft kiss into Sherlock's hair. "You act like you hate this but I know you secretly enjoy it," he whispered into his husband's unruly curls. Normal things like this, little things like laying together on a couch, was wonderful. He let his eyes slip closed and took a deep breath, yawning with a small laugh. "I don't know which show I think is more messed up."

"This one is slightly better," Sherlock admitted. "The two men have decided to hire someone so the murder can't be traced back to them." The woman walked back on screen, crying even harder. Her make-up was streaming down her face and screaming hysterically. "She overheard them and she says she is going to call the police." The woman runs off screen and the two men chase after her. "I am sure there is DVD around here, if you want to watch something else."

John feebly shook his head. Looking for a DVD would require one of them to get up. He was rather enjoying the warmth of Sherlock's body. "No, here." He grabbed the remote and placed it on Sherlock's chest lightly. "You aren't getting up," he whispered into his husband's hair, the arm around Sherlock's torso tightening slightly. There was no way he was going to let his husband go now.

Sherlock smirked a bit and snuggled further into John, as he picked up the remote. He flipped through some channels and soon they came back to last show they were watching. The two men had just accidentally killed the woman, so she wouldn't call the police. They were in the process of trying to clean up the crime scene. "If these two don't get caught, I am throwing the remote at the telly."

John let out a loud bark of laughter and held Sherlock closer to him. "I think this show needs a consulting detective," he said with another soft giggle. "How did they do it?" He asked curiously, tilting his head. They had only been flipping through the channels on the telly for a few minutes. It must have been something rather odd. "Stray bullet? There is a lot of blood."

Sherlock shook his head. "No, blunt force trauma to the head. It explains all the blood. It would seem they each had hold of an arm, lost their grips, and she slipped into the edge of the hearth. They are going to tell the police they came over and found her like this. They will be each others alibis. Not very original…"

"All of your deducing is making me horny," John said softly. Too bad he was exhausted, needed to sleep some more, and really couldn't get a hard on. "Even if it is crap telly in Italy." He stretched slightly under his husband and yawned again. Christ, when was he ever this tired? He was a bit sick of sleeping but it was obvious he needed it.

Sherlock turned his head and twisted slightly so he could look at John. "Do you want to go to bed my dear doctor?" He wasn't tired but he would lay with his husband, either here or the bedroom. He had given up on the book his mother had given him, so he wasn't sure what he was going to do to pass the time. Probably just some thinking.

John looked down at Sherlock with a tired smile, shaking his head. "Mmm, no, I will stay here." He wrapped his other arm around Sherlock lightly. "Sorry, just really tired." He swallowed hard. With a small smirk he placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple and tightened his arms in a small hug. "Probably going to sleep through the night." Which would be wonderful. It was nine-thirty. He had only been awake from an hour and a half but the combination of delicious food and the warmth of Sherlock's body wasn't helping him stay awake.

Sherlock nodded and turned his attention back to the ridiculous program on the telly. The police had arrived and were asking the two men questions. "Why aren't they being questioned separately?" He muttered more to himself than to John. "They aren't even convincing liars. Look at how obviously guilty they look."

"Stop making the face." John whispered with a weak smirk. "It is a crap telly show. Probably didn't have the budget to separate them and do it in more than one shot," he said as his fingers continued to scratch at the skin above Sherlock's chest lightly. "They are also just horrible actors," he added as he shifted slightly on the couch and rolled his head so he was face-to-face with the back of the couch.

Sherlock huffed a bit. He felt John shift and he turned so his head was now nuzzled into his husband's back. He dropped the remote on the floor without turning the television off. Mainly because he was curious to know if the men would end up getting caught. He didn't need to watch it. The audio would be enough. He gave John a light kiss on one of the red streaks he had caused earlier today.

John relaxed slightly at the touch, giving a soft groan of contentment. That felt wonderful. He would never complain because, really, Sherlock being rough was quite the enjoyable experience, but the scratch marks were still a bit sensitive. The red marks stung a bit at any movement his body made. His eyes fluttered open for a moment but everything was blurry and he didn't have the power to keep them open. He let his eyelids fall shut again without a fight. "Love you," he murmured.

Sherlock smiled even though John couldn't see it. "Love you too. Sleep well my dear doctor." He listened to the Italian movie playing in the background. Much to his disappointment the men got away. They decided to be gay lovers and ran away together to some exotic island. By the local police figured it out, the men were already gone. He couldn't help but groan when he heard the announcement of the sequel to play next. He reached behind him blindly, managed to find the remote and hit the power button.

John followed through with his promise and slept until six in the morning. His eyes opened slowly and it took him a moment to register everything. The fabric shoved against his face was slightly damp but not their bed. Right, couch. There was a pleasant warmth against his back. Sherlock. He smiled and exhaled loudly, stretching and curling his toes against the top of Sherlock's feet.

Good. No nightmares. John hadn't had any since being on the honeymoon. Hopefully his husband would sleep soundly the rest of the time as well. Sherlock hadn't slept. "Hey," murmured into John's back and gave the base of his husband's neck a kiss. "So, it is a new day…" He smirked a bit, wiggling into John a bit.

John let a low rumble come from his chest as he pressed back against Sherlock. Morning sex. Probably his favorite thing. Especially while he was still half asleep. He turned slowly and met Sherlock's lips, reaching in between them slowly to palm Sherlock through his robe. He pressed the rest of his body against Sherlock's with very sleepy movements. God, he wanted to be shagged.

Sherlock smirked behind the kiss as he returned it, his tongue moving to explore the other man's mouth eagerly. He moaned from the touch, his body leaning into his husband's hand. He squirmed excitedly and was pleased when he began to get an erection. Good. Very good indeed. He had been wanting to shag John for awhile now and he was going to get to finally.

The moment John felt Sherlock getting hard beneath his hand he wanted to shout and celebrate, but instead he deepened the kiss and moaned. John rocked his body slightly and was relieved when he felt the stirrings of his own erection. Being patient was paying off. He pulled away from Sherlock's lips and nipped at his husband's jaw. "Lube," he whispered. They were going to shag. Period.

"Oh God yes," Sherlock replied. "Bedroom now," he urged. He disentangled himself from John and got up off the couch. In his excited haste, he stumbled over the couple stairs but managed not to fall over. As soon as he got into the bedroom, he let his robe fall to the floor. He grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand and plopped down on the bed.

John followed after his husband with a laugh, yanking off his pajama pants and crawling on to the bed. He wrapped a hand around Sherlock's neck and pulled him down eagerly. "God, Sherlock, want you inside of me," he whispered into his husband's ear. "Want to feel you," he begged.

Sherlock smirked. "Good, because that is exactly what you are going to get." He pulled off the swim suit he was still wearing and crawled up John, until he was straddling his husband's hips. His body shivered with anticipation. He added lube to his hand and prepped John first, taking a few moments to tease his husband before prepping himself. He dropped the lube somewhere next to John and wasted no time entering his husband with a moan. He brought his head down, so he could suck on the neck of the man below him.

John was a writhing mess against the sheets and didn't stop moving until he felt Sherlock inside of him. He let out a low moan, lifting his legs to wrap around Sherlock's back. "Yes." He slammed his eyes shut and let his head fall back on to the pillow, exposing his neck to his husband. Both of his hand dug into Sherlock's back as he moved against Sherlock slightly. "God, Sherlock," he shouted.

Sherlock wasn't sure how long he would last, considering the amount of use his penis had taken lately. He decided on a slow but steady pace, to hopefully make things last a bit longer. He moaned into John's neck, with each thrust. Eventually he worked his way up to his husband's ear, where he began licking and sucking gently. A hand held onto the headboard for support and the other tangled into the sheets below.

Each moan from Sherlock made John flush a deeper read, his breath coming out in hot, shallow pants. "Yes," he whispered, turning his head to meet his husband's lips sloppily. The rhythm was perfect and the fact that Sherlock was almost constantly vocal now, led to John being a bit louder than he was used to. He let out a loud shout and clawed at Sherlock's back without a second thought. "Don't stop."

Sherlock returned the kiss, and he managed not to make it aggressive. He knew if that happened, he would never be able to keep up the pace he had set. He continued to move in and out John, moaning into his husband's mouth. The grip on the headboard and sheets got tighter.

John nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip with a soft moan. "You feel wonderful," he managed to say, his legs tightening around his husband's body. "Oh, Sherlock." He yanked his husband's head down and took Sherlock's earlobe into his mouth, biting down on it gently. "Jesus." He lifted his hips roughly to meet Sherlock's.

Sherlock smirked, quite pleased with himself. Feeling John's mouth on his ear made him growl in excitement. The rough buck from his husband had him forgetting all about slow and steady rather easily and quickly. He began to thrust harder and faster, his breathing becoming uneven from the sudden exertion of energy.

"Yes, like that," John moaned into Sherlock's ear, running his hands down his husband's side roughly. There were times that were perfectly suitable for a slow, whispering sweet nothings, but right now John wanted Sherlock as rough as he could, fast and hard. It had been a bit too long. Well, a day. But during their honeymoon, after a month of nothing, John needed this. "Love you," he whispered, nipping at Sherlock's ear with a soft moan.

"John," Sherlock breathed out when he felt fingers going down his sides. He continued increasing the roughness of each thrust. With all the attention John was giving him, he was completely lost in a haze of arousal. It felt wonderful and only encouraged him to go faster, until finally he came with a loud moan. He collapsed slightly to one side of his husband. "Love you too," he panted out a little belatedly.

John grinned lazily, reaching down to grab his erection as Sherlock fell to his side. He turned his head to meet his husband's lips as he started a fast, tight rhythm with his hand, moaning into Sherlock's mouth at his own touch. After several more strokes he came across his stomach, shouting against Sherlock's lips and collapsing against the mattress with a breathless whimper. God, that had been wonderful.

"Sorry," Sherlock murmured when John finished himself off. He was going to but his husband had beat him to it. His breathing had finally subsided into a semi normal pattern. "Why good morning my dear doctor." He laid next to John, with a smirk. His head came to rest on his husband's shoulder.

John grinned like an idiot down at his husband. "Good morning," he said softly as he yanked at a bit of the sheet at his side and ran it across his stomach to clean himself up. "I could wake up like that every morning," he whispered with a small chuckle. He studied his husband and ran a hand through his husband's hair. Perfect. Today was literally perfect. If it started like that then nothing else could really go wrong.

"Well, we can do that every morning if you want. So, long as we don't shag each other senseless during the rest of the day." Sherlock smirked up at John. "Anything you want to do today? Maybe you will actually get around to teaching me how to swim." He smirked again, snuggling a little closer to his husband's shoulder.

John glanced at his husband and took a deep breath. "I have always wanted to wake up to somebody already giving me a blow job," he admitted softly. It had been quite the fantasy of his and...shit, had he just said that out loud to Sherlock? His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, spreading down to his chest. "Swimming," he squeaked out nervously. "W-We can teach you how to swim."

Sherlock tilted his head up and looked at John with an arched eyebrow. "I will see if I can arrange that. Not for awhile though. I'll get you when you least expect." He smirked at his husband. "Swimming would be good. I need to be perfect at that too, just like everything else." His smirk got bigger.

"No. No, it is fine," John said, turning a deeper red. He didn't think it was possible but he wanted to crawl in a hole and hide away for a few hours. "God, this is embarrassing. Let's just go swimming," he muttered with a small frown. Swimming. Focus on something else. "Yesterday you looked like a drowning fish, Sherlock. Trust me."

"Oh it will happen, I just won't tell you about it." Sherlock sat up on the bed and took a moment to locate his suit. "I didn't do that bad..." He muttered with a puckering pout. He got off the bed and slid the swim suit on. Since they hadn't gone swimming yesterday like planned, the lotion and the towel were already together and he scooped those up on his way out of the bedroom.