Author's Note:
One chapter left!
It wasn't often Sherlock had dreams and it was even rarer for him to have nightmares. His dreams weren't nightmares per se, but they weren't really pleasant either. They weren't horrific enough to wake him but they were troubling enough to make him toss and turn, muttering incoherent things. Eventually, he just woke up on his own but he hadn't felt like he had slept at all. He groaned, futilely attempting to fall back asleep. God, his head was pounding.
John shifted and groaned slightly, opening his eyes to glance at his husband. He had been sleeping a bit rougher than normal. "You all right?" He muttered, his voice rough from sleep. God, what time was it? It was dark outside and a bit difficult to see his husband's face. "Shh, hey." He looked at his husband for a long moment. "Something's wrong," he stated softly
Sherlock wasn't sure why his sleep had been so restless considering how tired he had been when he fell asleep. Well, okay. He figured it was probably attributed to what happened at sea. He couldn't clearly recollect it, although he was trying. He was so lost in his thoughts; he almost hadn't heard John talking to him. "Headache," he muttered like a child. He buried his head into his husband's chest for some comfort.
Right. And right now Sherlock turned down anything that would get rid of pain. "Sherlock," John whispered as he pulled his husband closer. "I have got medicine for that, all right? It isn't addictive, it isn't strong, it's just going to get rid of your headache. I am going to give it to you and I want you to take it so you can feel better, yeah?" He pulled away for a moment to study Sherlock, smiling warmly. "It's just going to help you."
Sherlock clung to John. "Don't go. Just stay with me, please." He hated how desperate he sounded but there were fragments of recollection trying to haunt him now. He needed the comfort he knew his husband could give him. He wasn't used to having dreams and wasn't really sure how to deal with the current one he had just had. Was it irrational to think John would make everything better? Like a child thinks a kiss on a scrape makes the pain go away?
It didn't take long for everything to click with John. Scared after sleeping. Needing contact. Nightmare. "Sherlock, you had a nightmare, didn't you?" He asked softly as he moved a hand to rub at his husband's lower back in an attempt to calm him down. "Do you want to talk about it? It helps me, you've seen." He tugged his lower lip between his teeth. Is this how helpless Sherlock felt when he had his nightmares? It felt horrible.
It really shouldn't come as a surprise to Sherlock that John had figured it out. "Don't really remember it. Just bits and pieces. The worst is the feeling it left me just before waking." God, this was stupid. It was just an idiotic dream. There was nothing to worry about or be afraid of, yet he couldn't bring himself to let go of his husband.
"I know," John whispered softly, closing his eyes for a long moment. "After nightmares I just think about you. So...try that. Think about me. About us being safe at home, waking up and making breakfast." He placed a calming kiss on Sherlock's temple. He never wanted this to happen to Sherlock but given what had recently happened to them wasn't too surprised. "Was it about...the lighthouse?" He muttered weakly.
"No, I was still lost at sea. You didn't come to find me. You didn't care. You…left me…" Sherlock trailed off brokenly. That was all he could really remember, but the feelings attached to the dream had been intense. He had felt so…abandoned. Now he realized why he was still gripping John so tightly. It wasn't real. His husband would never leave him, not like that. He knew that, but it didn't change the way the dream had left him feeling and now he couldn't shake it.
John felt his stomach twist violently. Jesus. He'd had dreams about Sherlock but the thought of his husband having a dream like that, having to deal with it...it made him want to be sick. "It is fine," he whispered because, really, what else could he do? He felt helpless and suddenly realized what it felt like to have to deal with nightmares, to deal with the irrational feelings and the fears. "I am never going to leave you. I care about you, I love you. I'm always going to save you," he whispered into Sherlock's hair.
"I know. I just…the scariest thing about what happened to us, besides me losing you. Is that you lost me, without knowing what you meant to me. I…" Sherlock trailed off again but cleared his throat to continue this time around. "It's why I've been trying so hard the last few days. Not that I didn't try before…" He trailed off again, but this time words failed to form to continue his thought process. Stupid dream. This conversation was its entire fault. He was certain John was going to get mad at him now.
Oh. John looked down at Sherlock with a frown, both of his hands moving to frame his husband's face. "Sherlock Holmes," he said sternly, looking his husband in the eyes. "I love you. I would die for you if I needed to. And you know what? I know you would to. God, Sherlock, I was so scared when you let go." And, damn it, there were tears in his eyes, "I thought I had lost you forever and I hated myself for it. Hated that I couldn't save you. You never have to try to remind me how much I mean to you because I know. We are married, we're husbands, I know."
The use of his full name… This wasn't going to end well, was it? Oh. Sherlock really didn't know what to say now. He felt stupid for admitting anything and now John seemed to be on the verge of tears, all because of him. He hadn't minded taking care of his husband. Would he have to stop that now? Because really he still wanted to do dumb little things to make John happy. "I love you," he whispered, feeling a little lame for it but he hadn't been able to think of anything else to say.
"I love you too," John whispered with a watery smile. "Granted, the next time you feel like burning toast to make me laugh, you can," he added with a shaky laugh as he gave his husband a quick, gentle kiss. "Don't you ever forget that I love you and I always will. I would never leave you anywhere. I am always going to be by your side." He pulled his husband into a tight hug, his eyes slipping closed. "God, I love you so much. I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you."
Right. This was a depressing way to start the day. And a new day had barely begun, based on the positioning of the moon outside. Tonight would be better. How to fix now though? "I know John. It was just a stupid dream and it caught me unprepared. I am okay now, Love." He lifted his head to gently kiss his husband on the lips.
Right. Sherlock wasn't like John, didn't need a constant reminder after a nightmare. He cleared his throat and licked his lips, returning the kiss. "Right. Of course. Yeah." He smiled a bit and shifted on the bed. "I am going to go get you that medicine, then. Help your headache." He said with a small nod. He wanted to help his husband get out of pain. "Didn't mean to exhaust you after such a wonderful shag," he added with a smug grin.
Had he said something wrong? Maybe not, John seemed okay now. Oh yeah, the headache. Sherlock had forgotten about that with all the talking. Something for the pain should be okay, especially if it was just some form of aspirin. He couldn't help but smirk at his husband. "It was wonderful because I am amazing and perfect." There. Fall into old and familiar habits. Couldn't go wrong with that, right?
"Because I'm wonderful," John shot back as he stood up slowly, walking a bit awkwardly as he left the room. It didn't take him long to find some aspirin and get a cup of water, taking it back to the room. He moved to sit up on the bed, handing everything to Sherlock with a bit of a smile. "We have got a big night ahead of us," he said as he tilted his head to the side and ran a finger lightly down his husband's side. "I can't wait."
"And adorable!" Sherlock shouted after John with a smirk on his lips. He took the pills and washed them down with the water and then set the empty cup down on the night stand. "Yes. Tonight will be amazing." God, he couldn't wait for it to come. It had become even more desirable than wanting to shag his husband against the window at the flat. Which was saying something considering it was his biggest fantasy. Maybe he should talk to John about that sometime. Probably not now though. He didn't want to ruin the mood.
"I'm not adorable," John insisted softly, leaning forward to place a gently kiss on his husband's forehead. "Going to shag you so slow. Talk to you, let you know much I love you." A kiss on Sherlock's cheek, "Want you." The underside of Sherlock's jaw, "Need you." He glanced outside through the doors that led to their small beach. "We've got, what, twelve hours? God, twelve hours until I am inside of you." He shifted and moved to lay next to his husband, pressing their foreheads together.
Sherlock's eyes flitted close in contentment from the kisses he was receiving from John. "Keep that up and I will want it now." He opened his eyes and smirked at his husband. He was mostly joking because God, John was doing a really good job of seducing him right now. Grant it, it didn't take a lot to begin with but they had planned this almost a week ago and he wanted it to happen so badly, just thinking about it was enough to give him an erection. Well, it would have been if he had been able to get one right now.
"Mmm, do want it now," John whispered as his own eyes slipped closed. "But I am waiting, being patient." He gave Sherlock a slow kiss. "For you because you mean the world to me and I want to show you." He shifted and moved to straddle his husband, pressing his nose into the crook of Sherlock's neck. "Going to suck you off tonight," he whispered against his partner's skin. "Fuck, it is going to be glorious."
Sherlock whimpered as soon as John straddled them. Wait. They had waited this long, so waiting a bit longer would be nothing. Only it felt so far away now. It was right about now, that he would kiss his husband for a distraction but he was certain it would end up having the opposite desired result. It was them after all. He reached up a hand to run along John's cheek lightly. "Still want the cheese and crackers for dinner my Love?"
John looked down at Sherlock with a lop-sided smile, nodding a bit. "And wine which means I am going to have to get some sort of food in you before hand," he whispered as he turned his head and placed a soft kiss on his husband's palm. "Eggs? I saw some sausage in the freezer, could cook that for you if you are hungry. Wouldn't want you passing out on me." He let his eyes slip closed and let his head fall, resting on Sherlock's chest. "Wish I could sleep all day and just wake up in time to shag you," he stated with a chuckle.
"If we eat a bit of the dinner before drinking the wine, it should be okay?" Sherlock knew if he ate anything now then he wouldn't be hungry tonight. "If you want to sleep, then do so my dear doctor." He didn't like sleep to begin with and after the feeling the dream had left upon waking, he wasn't keen on the idea of sleep at all. He was sure he could find something to occupy his mind if John really wanted to nap.
"Do you want me to get off of you so you can go do something else?" John asked softly against Sherlock's chest. It would be rude to keep his husband pinned here while he selfishly took a nap but, damn, he was exhausted and could feel sleep sneaking up on him. At this point he wasn't sure if he could keep fighting it. "Sorry, just really tired," he muttered with a yawn. "Sorry."
"You are fine Love. Sleep now. I will be here when you wake up." Sherlock smiled at John and then tilted his head down to give his husband a kiss on the top of the head. Soon. Nightfall would be upon them and their glorious night could commence. Right now was good too though. He wrapped his arms around John, hugging the man above him closer.
Sleep. John mumbled something and soon relaxed against his husband, snoring softly against Sherlock's chest. Everything was peaceful, no dreams, and his eyes opened slowly several hours later. God, he felt like he had slept forever. He moaned, shifted slightly, and went limp again. Did he ever have to move? He could just stay like this for the rest of his life. "Morning," he muttered weakly, moving slightly to place a kiss on the inside of Sherlock's bicep.
Good, John had slept without any nightmares. Sherlock smiled up at his husband. "Good morning my dear doctor. I trust you had a restful respite then?" It was closer to the evening now really and the feeling left him practically giddy with excitement. Not too much longer to wait. "John, while you were sleeping I decided I am going to start wearing boxers." It wasn't what he had been thinking about at the moment, but dwelling on the night to come would only make time seem to go slower.
John opened his mouth to answer his husband's question when he burst into laughter, looking at Sherlock with a grin. Here he thought his husband thought of great and wonderful things while he slept. Having those thoughts revealed was a bit anti-climatic but hilarious all the same. "Why is that? I quite like your briefs, they make your arse look wonderful."
"Fine. I won't then," Sherlock muttered, his bottom lip puckering out in a pout. He was being a child at the moment but John was laughing at him right now. Hadn't it been his husband's idea in the first place? He had actually liked the boxers and he had thought John did too. "What's so funny?" He finally asked. The prospect of wearing boxers over briefs didn't strike him as too particularly hilarious.
John grinned and studied his husband for a long moment. "It is just...I thought you had these deep thoughts and everything and it turns out you think about such simple things like your underwear." He smiled and gently shook his head. He might have just upset Sherlock and he should probably fix it. "You can wear boxers if you want. I quite liked you in mine." There. Fixed. He shifted and placed a soft kiss on his husband's cheek.
Oh. "Not all the time," Sherlock was still muttering with his pouting lip. His husband had been laughing at him for being idiot. Right. God forbid the only consulting detective in the world would have normal thoughts. Except, he hadn't…not really anyway. Not until he had met John. Before, the only thing that mattered were experiments and cases and everything else hadn't been of any consequence to him. The pouting lips turned into a small smile. "Thank you." He leaned up and kissed John's nose.
"Should I go buy you some?" John asked softly. "As endearing as you look in mine, I am a bit bigger than you." He smiled and gave Sherlock quick kiss. "Can't have your boxers bunching up under your fancy pants." After a long moment and glanced over at the clock. Seven. Two more hours and it would be dark. God, his heart rate picked up at just the thought. He looked back at his husband. "We should get up and put some clothes on, start preparing our little dinner." ...But John didn't move at all, just grinned down at his husband.
It occurred to Sherlock that John didn't realize what he was being thanked for. "When I was thanking you, I meant thank you for changing my life. I was laying here thinking how different I was when we first met and how much I've changed since then. And it is all because of you, Love." He smiled up at his husband, his hand reaching up so his thumb could run along John's jaw line lightly.
Oh. And John had laughed. A quick blush spread across his cheeks and he managed a bit of a smile. What did he say back to that? 'You're welcome' didn't seem quite right. He swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah," he said weakly before clearing his throat. "I love you. God, Sherlock, I love you so much," he whispered.
"I know you do. I love you too." Sherlock reached up and kissed John's forehead, and then left their heads pressed together. He was excited about tonight, but one just didn't just disrupt a moment like this, did they? The smile returned, his thumb moving to run across his husband's bottom lip gently.
That soft touch made John's eyes flutter shut. So wonderful. He opened his mouth slowly, blindly taking Sherlock's thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the tip. He couldn't help himself and, God, Sherlock couldn't just touch him like that and expect him to not do this. After several moments he exhaled shakily through his nose and opened his eyes, focusing intently on his husband as he continued the attention to Sherlock's thumb.
Sherlock couldn't help the smirk that crossed his lips as a devious plan formed in his mind. He pulled his thumb away slowly. "That is just a preview of things to come later tonight my dear doctor. Come on then, you said something about making dinner." His fingers came to linger on John's chest, trailing along it slowly and purposefully missing the claw marks from last night. He decided that he could tease his husband just a bit before the night began.
John watched Sherlock's hand for a moment, breathing heavily. Shit, he was already getting an erection. It wasn't a surprise, really, he didn't get off the last time they shagged. How could he get up and make dinner with his husband below him doing such wonderfully delicious things? His gaze shot up to Sherlock and he took a deep breath, leaning down to passionately kiss his husband.
Oh God, if Sherlock didn't stop this then things were going to get out of hand and they'd have to wait even longer for the night on the beach. John was kissing him though, why would he want to stop that? He returned the kiss, cursing himself for his lack of self control right now. But his husband was above and clearly interested in the activities going on right now.
Calm. Stay calm. Sherlock had wanted this night so bad and he would not ruin it. John pulled away from the kiss slowly, smiling as he took a shaky breath. "Sorry," he whispered with a laugh. "We've got an hour and a half to wait at the longest." He nodded to assure himself of that. He couldn't ruin this for his husband. "Want to make tonight special for you."
Right. Stopping was for the best, if they wanted tonight to work out. Sherlock nodded in agreement. "Dinner then, my Love? Did you still want a fruit salad with the crackers and cheese?" He couldn't wait for tonight, his own devious plan had backfired on him in way because he really wanted John right now. Patience. Just wait.
"Sounds wonderful," John replied happily, slowly moving off of his husband and walking to the dresser. Did he put clothes on? He shifted slightly on his feet before grabbing a clean pair of boxers and slipping them on, turning to look at Sherlock. God, his husband was beautiful. He grinned and walked toward the door, his bottom lip tugged between his teeth. "Going to get everything ready. Find your favorite lube." He winked and headed toward the kitchen to start putting their dinner together.
Sherlock didn't want to get out of the bed, but he needed too. He was missing his robe. It was still on the beach, possibly ruined by now. He would probably have to get another one. He groaned and rolled off the bed. Favorite lube? That was still in the shower, wasn't it? Would there be any left? He found the bottle still lying on the floor in the shower, it was slightly under half empty. It should be enough. Should he get clothes? Meh. Why bother? Just going to take them off anyway. He walked out of the bedroom and over to the mound of pillows and blankets. He pulled out the biggest blanket he could find.
John was already peeling an orange but froze when Sherlock came out from the bedroom. "You are distracting me," he muttered with a laugh as he pulled the fruit apart and put it in a bowl. "I have got the crackers and cheese set out and I've just started the fruit salad," he grabbed an apple and started cutting it. "Any preference on the wine?"
Sherlock turned to smirk at John, the blanket under one arm and the bottle of lubricant in his free hand. He walked into the kitchen, setting the items on the table. "That depends, what kind of cheese did you get? Different wines go better with certain cheeses." He shrugged a little, grabbing a piece of fruit that was already cut and popped it into his mouth as he hoisted himself up on the counter to sit.
"Oi, Sherlock, we make food on these counters." John looked up at his husband playfully. "You have got your bare arse on the counter," he muttered as be motioned toward the cheese cut into small pieces. "Yellow cheese? I don't know. God, get your dick off the counter." He swatted at his husband's knee with a laugh before starting to cut up a small slice of honeydew.
Sherlock smirked at John again, but hopped off the counter. He walked over to the plate of cheese and ate a piece. "Cheddar, aged by the taste. So, a bottle of Merlot or Cabernet. We probably have both, do you have a preference my dear doctor?" He walked over to the pantry to check out the wine selection. It wasn't nearly as extensive as the selection in the wine cellar back at the manor but it will held a pretty wide variety. In fact, this particular pantry held nothing but bottles of alcohol.
John glanced over his shoulder at his husband before rolling his eyes. "A good one?" He muttered as he dumped the sliced honeydew in the bowl. It was clear that he wasn't raised in a family that knew what cheese went with what wine. At seventeen all he knew was that beer was delicious and went very well with crisps. "Just pick one." He turned and rested his back against the counter and studied his husband's body appreciatively.
Sherlock frowned a bit, had he upset John? He was going to ruin this night with his husband before it even really started, wasn't he? Merlot was a bit cliché in his opinion so he picked out a bottle of Cabernet instead. He began rummaging through other cupboards randomly and found a basket. Didn't people do that? "John, fancy a picnic?" He smirked a bit as he held up the basket for his husband to see. Actually, come to think of it. He had never been on a picnic before.
"Fancy you," John said with a bit of a smile, grabbing the bowl of fruit and slowly putting a piece of honeydew in his mouth. Sherlock was prancing around naked. There wasn't much more he could take. "Here." He grabbed a lid for the bowl and placed it in the basket, giving Sherlock a quick kiss before grabbing the plate of cheese and crackers. "I will carry this," he said softly before shoving the blanket under his other arm.
Sherlock smirked again, pleased. Good. Better. He put the wine in the basket and a cork screw. He picked up the bottle of lubricant and decided to carry it, just in case. He didn't want the thing to accidentally open and ruin everything inside by making it taste like blueberries. Although…he did rather like the lube. No. Nope. Just carry the damn thing. He moved out the door and down to the beach.
John followed after his husband, setting the plate down for a moment so he could spread out the blanket. He moved, placed the plate on the blanket, and finally laid down. It was...wonderful. Comfortable. Warm. And the stars were just starting to come out. He folded his arms behind his head and stretched, his eyes slipping closed. So they had to eat and then...then he would lean over and slowly kiss Sherlock, roll and settle between his legs. John smiled to himself and opened his eyes to look up at his husband.