John lay on his back, his eyes closed, a dreamy contented look softened his features as Sherlock rubbed his hands from the small of John's back to his neck and then back again.

"That feels marvelous, Sherlock, don't stop," John slurred as a big bubble of drool escaped from his lips and plopped on the floor. Like a dog running for a table scrap, Sherlock jumped off the bed and got down on all fours, his pearly white bottom stuck up in the air like a stink bug, he then began to sniff at the puddle of John's drool.

John began to laugh, "Sherlock, what the hell are you doing?"

Sherlock ignored him and after a few moments of sniffing, he jumped up. "John, you're dehydrated, you need to drink more water."

John lay back in the bed and sighed. "Sherlock, I'm not even going to ask how you deduced that."

Sherlock grinned and a few moments later came back with a large glass filled with water and handed it to John. Skeptically, John sniffed at the water to make sure it wasn't formaldehyde or something worse. "Sherlock, is this water?" John asked, for it wouldn't be beyond Sherlock to put a mild form of poison in the water just to see what would happen.

Sherlock folded his arms and turned away from John. "John, I can't believe you don't trust me."

John took a sip of the water and sighed, "Sherlock, come over here."

Sherlock happily complied and sat at the edge of the bed his bright eyes fixated on John. "So, Sherlock, it's been three days since my tattoo. Are you ever going to get dressed and take off that collar? What is Mrs. Hudson were to see you like that?"

Sherlock shrugged, "She did see me like this, yesterday while you were sleeping."

John put the glass down on the nightstand and sat up, "Sherlock, what did she say?"

Sherlock looked bored, "Nothing really. She just screamed a little and then just stood there staring. Entirely too long if you ask me," Sherlock said as he looked down just below his torso. Sherlock's moods were enough to drive a sane person over the edge for he took a running jump and landed beside John in the bed, without a word he began to kiss John on the neck as he pushed him firmly down into the covers.

John chuckled as Sherlock began to grasp John's wrists tightly. "Whoa, whoa Sherlock, you of all people should know I'm not ready to re-group yet."

Sherlock desperately straddled his legs over John's hips as his whole body began to shake. "Poor Sherlock," John thought for he could tell that Sherlock had lost control of the shivering that made the muscles in his body weak. "Sherlock, this isn't going to happen for either of us right now. Come on lay here quietly beside me." John whispered as Sherlock took a deep breath.

Sherlock's muscles twitched involuntarily as he attempted to rest in John's arms after a few moments he gave up and just took deep cleansing breaths. John tried to wriggle free of Sherlock's grasp, but Sherlock held him tight.

"Sherlock, I have to go pee, let me up," John said as he tried to keep from giggling.

Sherlock positioned his body over John and held him tight with his knees. "John, just go now."

John wrinkled up his face, "What? You want me to pee the bed?"

Sherlock nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, do it. I want to see just for a case of course."

John was openly laughing by this time. "God, you are the weirdest person I have ever known, now let me up."

"Fine," Sherlock said as he rolled over in a ball.

John smiled and shook his head, "Come on you can watch me in the bathroom if you want to. Come on, you know you want to."

Sherlock ignored John for a moment and then rushed after his retreating figure.

"I feel a little self-conscious; can you give me some room?" John asked as Sherlock crowded in on him.

Sherlock watched every move John made in rapt attention, his eyes growing wider at certain points in the process, until they both heard the sound of John's stream hitting the water in the toilet and after John was finished Sherlock, knelt down on the floor, his head back, his eyes closed, until he felt John's cool hand on his neck. "Come on, Sherlock, everything's going to be okay."

Sherlock looked up at John with such a look of anguish that John felt momentarily off balance. Most of the time it was hard to believe that Sherlock had any feelings at all and at other times he was so intensely vulnerable that John felt that Sherlock would shatter into a million pieces if John touched him ever so slightly. Quietly, John shut the door for it was at times like these that Sherlock needed to be alone. The one time that John had checked on Sherlock in one of these moods, Sherlock had been curled up on the floor, sobbing. When John had asked if he were okay, Sherlock became so distraught that he took out his red leather Moroccan case and shot up while John had looked on in horror. John leaned heavily on the other side of the door, wishing Sherlock well.

John went to bed and after a while fell asleep. We he awoke Sherlock was sitting at the edge of the bed fully dressed, staring at him.

John yawned and rubbed his eyes. "Have you been watching me sleep?" He asked drowsily.

Sherlock nodded, "Yes, you've been asleep for ages; it was boring watching you sleep that is."

John smiled and then asked mockingly, "If it was so boring why did you stay?"

Sherlock looked down at his clasped hands and then said nonchalantly, "Mary and Mycroft are supposed to be away this weekend, so I thought it would be a good time to visit Hope and eat up all of Mycroft's food, maybe even trash the place."

John laughed, "Okay, hey where is my shirt and jeans, they were piled on the floor when I went to sleep."

Sherlock handed John a black t-shirt with a skull and crossbones on it and a pair of black jeans. John sighed slipped on the T-Shirt; the jeans took a little bit of effort to put on. "Sherlock, these jeans are way too tight," John gasped.

Sherlock stared at John's bulging package in the front of the jeans and drew in a long breath, hissing as he did so. "No, they are not too tight. Here's your helmet. We're taking the motorcycle." Sherlock said curtly.

As John positioned himself in back of Sherlock, Sherlock corrected him, "John, you need to scoot in closer to me, and don't hang on to the back of the seat, put your arms around my waist, it's safer that way."

John was about to correct Sherlock and tell him that it was much safer to hold on to the back of the seat; but instead he just scooted closer to Sherlock, grabbing him tightly around the waist, leaning his head sideways so he could rest it lightly on Sherlock's back. After all wasn't Sherlock the greatest detective in the world?