A/N: So not too much to say except we're closing in on this story now. I know this is a short last chapter but I felt like it was a good place to end. Because this is the last one, I just want to thank everyone who followed, reviewed and favorite this story. I've had just as much fun writing it as you all had reading it (I hope!)

I'll be writing more Sherlock fics in the very near future so keep an eye out. Thank you all again!

Chapter Eighteen: All You Need Is Love

.o.o.

.o.

And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you

'Cause it's the only thing I want to do

I don't want to sleep, I just want to keep on lovin' you

Baby, I'm gonna keep on lovin' you

'Cause it's the only thing I want to do

I don't want to sleep

I just want to keep on lovin' you

REO Speedwagon – Keep On Loving You

.o.o.

.o.

"I still can't believe you, of all people, were able to get answers from that poor girl yesterday," John confessed as he lay on his back between Sherlock's legs on the sofa, resting his back against Sherlock's chest.

The younger man smirked smugly, obviously pleasantly satisfied with himself. "It was nothing, John, I assure you."

John looked up at his lover's strong jawline. "Nothing? Please. You don't honestly believe that. You know it's a big deal, and I can tell you're right proud of yourself anyway."

Sherlock ran his long, bony fingers in the doctor's hair and sighed to himself before he looked back down at him. "Are you proud of me, John?"

The question was so simple but the way Sherlock asked him this gave the detective a new level of vulnerability. It came out sounding like a young child asking his father if he had made him proud. John smiled up at Sherlock warmly.

"Of course I am, Sherlock. I am… incredibly proud of you. I'm always proud of you," he admitted, nodding surely. "Even when you piss me off and scare me, I can't stay angry at you because I know the kind of person you are and I wouldn't ever want to change you. I love you, you bloody arrogant git."

Sherlock laughed a deep, throaty laugh and then smiled wide before he wrapped his arms around the doctor's chest. "I love you too, John."

The two of them stayed in this position for a few hours, only getting up for cups of tea, to use the loo, and to switch movies in and out. By the end of the second movie, John saw the clock on the mantle and gently smacked Sherlock's leg, making a move to get up.

"Come on, it's lunch time. We both need to eat something," he insisted.

Sherlock reached for him and easily forced him back down after grabbing his shirt. "No, you need to stay here with me. One more movie and then we can have lunch… err… late lunch."

John sighed and gave him a playful look, narrowing his eyes but then started to caress the detective's thigh with his hand softly. "All right, but only one more." The chime of the doorbell momentarily stopped John's affectionate touches to Sherlock. He waited and then he heard a knocking at the door. "I'll get it."

Sherlock had stood up before John could make any motion to and stepped over the doctor carefully. "Don't be absurd. I'll get it, John. You pick out the movie… I wanted to get some more tea anyway."

He moved over to the door and opened it, smiling curtly to the Detective Inspector who was now standing in the doorway. "Lestrade, to what do I owe this… pleasure?"

"I'm sorry to disturb the two of you but I just wanted to inform you that the girl you talked to yesterday has been placed in a foster home and is currently receiving therapy, so we think she's going to be okay," Greg announced optimistically.

John turned around and gave the DI a polite wave from where he was standing in front of the DVD rack against the wall. After Greg Lestrade had waved back, Sherlock shook his head.

"That's wonderful but you couldn't manage to text me this information?" Sherlock asked icily.

John didn't turn around to look at him. "Sherlock…" he replied in a warning tone. "Be nice."

Lestrade smirked slightly at this and saw the young detective roll his eyes but smile to himself. He leaned in towards Sherlock so John wouldn't be able to hear him. "How is domestic bliss treating you, Sherlock Holmes? I honestly never thought anyone would ever be able to domesticate a person like you."

"I suppose it just takes the right kind of person. How is the newly separated life treating you, Lestrade?"

The verbal punch seemed to weaken the older man now. He gave Sherlock a distasteful look. "How did you know we were separated?"

Sherlock glanced back at John, admiringly, but spoke in a low whisper to Lestrade. "A novice could spot the evidence of a separation with you, Lestrade. You're still wearing your wedding band, which tells me you have hope of reconciling things between you and the wife. If she had filed for a divorce, you wouldn't wear the band anymore; yes, you might still place it next to your bedside at night but you wouldn't wear it if you were looking for another person. Also, I can smell her perfume on you. It's her perfume because it's the same one I've smelled several times before around you, and it was before you two separated. You wearing her perfume tells me that while you're separated, she's still seeing you to meet her sexual needs and although she could get that from someone else, she prefers you, which also tells me that the separation is temporary and she still loves you."

Greg Lestrade just shook his head in amazement, but this time he didn't bother to question Sherlock's brilliance. "Well, that puts my mind at ease, at least. You two have yourselves a good night; you both deserve it. Thanks for your help again, Sherlock."

He nodded goodbye to him before making his way out of the flat and Sherlock shut the door behind him, making his way into the kitchen to pour the two of them more tea. "So what movie have you picked out for us then, John?"

The doctor smiled over at him and placed the DVD in the player to get it ready for them to watch it. "We are watching… The Prestige."

Sherlock brought in the tray of tea and scoffed slightly. "The Prestige? That's over two hours long!"

"Exactly," John smiled teasingly at Sherlock before he sat with his back against the arm of the sofa and let his legs make a U-shape, leaving space for Sherlock to lay where he had been earlier. "I would've thought you'd enjoy a long movie. We can cuddle, and drink our tea, and you can make all the annoying comments you want."

Sherlock chuckled and let his lips curve upwards slightly in amusement. He placed the tea tray on the coffee table next to them and took his place between John's legs, this time positioning himself so his back was against John's chest. "Well… when you put it that way…"

John ruffled Sherlock's hair before they lay together, watching the movie. Halfway through, however, both men appeared to become antsy and unable to help their wandering hands. Soon enough, they had their hands in the others' hair and their limbs had become entangled together.

.o.o.

.o.

They finished the movie about an hour and a half later, both men bare-chested now. They let the credits run at the end, enjoying each other's' company. John ran his fingers lightly over the hair on Sherlock's slender legs.

"We need to do something."

John looked down at the detective curiously. "Aren't we currently doing something?"

"No," Sherlock corrected. "Perhaps I should rephrase that. We need something to do."

John raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Nope, not any better. Care to clarify?" He reached over and grabbed his cup of tea before taking a cautious sip of it.

Sherlock turned to face him now, his body tense. "We need a case. I need a case, to be more specific."

"A case," John repeated to himself. "We sort of just finished a case, didn't we? With the girl?"

"No, John. They already had the man in custody. There was nothing else to solve. Don't get me wrong; this… you and me… is very nice but… I crave cases. I crave action, and I know you do as well. I believe a case would do both of us some good," Sherlock remarked, his voice neutral and calm.

John wasn't sure what to say to this at first so he let silence linger between them. He just nodded as he trailed his fingers up and down Sherlock's leg again before he finally found his words. "I love you but is this how it's always going to be? Will there always be a case between us?"

Sherlock's face twisted with innocent confusion now. "I'm… sorry? I don't understand. Are you upset with me, John?"

The doctor shook his head truthfully. "No, Sherlock. I'm not upset at you. I'm just… curious, I suppose. I'm just asking if… you'll always want to be in the heat of combat. You're right to a certain extent; I do like to be where the action is but it's also nice to take a time-out occasionally and just be with you. I don't understand why we always need to have a case to be on. Don't you want to just be with me, without any interruptions, without having to constantly focus on clues and terrorists and everything else?"

Sherlock took a moment to process this. He wet his lips. "Of course I want to be with you. That's what we're doing right now, isn't it? Just being with each other?" He didn't wait for John to respond before he continued. "Cases give me distractions. I don't have time to be bored and I don't have any need to turn to stimulants."

John suddenly got a sick feeling in his stomach. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Have you… have you been taking your anti-anxiety medication?"

Sherlock searched the doctor's face in apparent confusion at first before he connected the dots to John's line of thinking. "Yes, I have. Taking the medication helps but it doesn't do the same thing that cases can do for me. I need… excitement, my adrenaline pumping… when I have a case, boredom isn't an issue and for several hours or days, I'm all right."

John nodded in partial understanding and took Sherlock's hand in his own. "Are you bored with me? Are you bored… of me?"

Sherlock shook his head instantly. "No, of course not, John. I didn't mean it like that at all. I just meant… I'm used to being on cases nearly all of the time and I'm afraid of what's going to happen to me when I'm not on cases as much anymore. I'm aware you would like to be with me alone and I'd like that as well, but… I'm hesitant to think about how I will be when I don't have things to focus on anymore. I might let simple things slip and when I do finally get a case, I won't be able to concentrate on the facts as quickly as I'd like to."

That's it, John thought to himself. He's afraid of losing his talents if he's distracted by me for too long. "Well, let's think about this. You'll have the smaller ones that you can answer in an email, so that'll distract you some… and you can ask Lestrade for more cold cases. We're bound to get a real case sooner or later. Sherlock, I don't believe you'll ever be bored for very long. There seems to be enough to keep you and your brilliant mind busy," John smiled in reassurance.

Sherlock chewed on his lower lip but nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm prone to agree with you."

There was a silence that hung over them for several moments but it wasn't entirely uncomfortable. Sherlock gently squeezed John's hand and looked down at their interlocked fingers. He cleared his throat casually and then looked back up at his best friend.

"I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you, John. Actually, that's not entirely true; I know where exactly I'd be, and that's why I'm thankful to have someone in my life who cares for me and is more patient with me than anyone else has ever been," Sherlock confessed in a soft voice.

John gave him a loving smile. "You don't have to say those things, Sherlock. I know you're thankful, even if you never say it. I can see it in your eyes most of the time. Anyway, I want to be here, with you. I made a mistake in the beginning but I really just want to be here."

The young man searched his eyes for a long time before he gently placed his hands on either side of his face and kissed him deeply, inhaling John Watson's familiar musky scent. John embraced him back and when they finally moved away from each other, the two men suddenly broke out in soft chuckling.

The chime of Sherlock's phone interrupted their laughter and the detective groaned in annoyance before he picked up his phone. He opened up the message and began to read:

There's been an incident, Sherlock. Two missing children, and an apparent suicide. There's also a note here that suggests another kidnapping threat. Come to Grove End Road. – DI Lestrade

Something rose up inside Sherlock that also made the young man himself rise up from the couch and plant his feet firmly on the carpet.

"What is it?"

Sherlock glanced over at John with a light in his eyes that he hadn't had for the longest time before he half smirked at the doctor. "Get dressed, John. The game…is on!"