Author Notes: Here is the second and final chapter of this story. Let me know how you liked it. :)

Trigger Warning: Transphobic language.

With open Eyes

His watch showed the time as ten past six, when Sherlock finally dragged himself home. He would have stayed at Bart's for longer, if Molly hadn't kicked him out. Alright, she hadn't really kicked him out, but her repeated assurances that everything between John and him would be alright, had gnawed on Sherlock's nerves. Especially, as he couldn't see how everything could be alright between them. To be fair though, after a sandwich and a few hours of sleep - three - the situation didn't appear as hopeless anymore as before. He had come to the conclusion that John - probably - wouldn't be disgusted with him and that John might even insist on continuing their friendship. Still, Sherlock was certain - to ninety-nine percent - that John wouldn't want to persuade their... other relationship. He breathed around the sudden stab of pain in his chest. It would be torture to live with John from now on. To know what Sherlock could have had, if only... if only he had been born with other parts. It didn't matter that Sherlock liked his body the way it was - after years of hating it - because John would certainly find fault with it. No one had ever been able to see past what they deemed as flaws. John was an amazing man, but he wasn't without prejudices.

Sherlock stared up the stairs to their flat and forced himself to climb one step after another. The days of returning to 221B with the knowledge that John was home, were numbered, Sherlock was more than aware of it. Eventually, John would start dating once more - likely sooner rather than later - and one day he would find himself a suitable partner and... be gone.

His heart stuttered in his chest at that thought and Sherlock had to blink a few times to get rid of the moisture in his eyes. To lose John after realising how much he... loved him, would be the death of Sherlock, literally.

Pushing these dark thoughts aside, Sherlock wrapped his courage around him like his coat and entered the flat. The smell of Chinese takeaway - crispy duck with curry rice and prawns with mixed vegetables with fried noodles - greeted him. Momentarily taken aback, Sherlock barely managed to go through the motions of hanging up his coat and scarf, before he wandered into the kitchen, were the table was set for two. Plates and chopsticks were laid out and the takeaway still set in its transport box.

"Molly texted me when you left Bart's and I thought that we could both do with a whole meal, after living on toast and chocolate sticks for three days."

Sherlock almost flinched at the casual opening of the conversation and stared at John, who was in the progress of making tea. Postponing the inevitable discussion, Sherlock pulled himself together and dryly commented. "You lived on toast and chocolate sticks, I only had tea and lots of honey." Sherlock almost heard his friend roll his eyes, as he fixed their teas - one black with sugar, one with milk. "One more reason for you to eat something." He placed the mug with the dark liquid on Sherlock's place and sat down at the table with his own.

Tense, Sherlock followed John's example and watched how his friend heaped noodles and prawns on his plate and took hold of the chopsticks. Sherlock didn't make a move to get his own dinner. His stomach had been transformed into a disgusting clump and he feared that his crispy duck would make a reappearance on the tiles, if he tried to eat as much as one bite. If John wanted to have dinner first, Sherlock wouldn't hold it against him, but it was beyond his strength to pretend that this was just another normal evening at 221B.

Of course, John picked up on Sherlock's refusal to eat after only a few seconds and put his chopsticks away with a sigh. "You have to eat, Sherlock. It's not healthy to..."

"Stop it!" Sherlock slammed his mug down on the table with more force than he had intended to. Tea splashed on his plate, the table and the floor, but Sherlock paid it no mind as he leveled a cold glare at John. "Stop pretending that nothing has happened. It won't work, John. Sooner or later you are going to crack. I would wager sooner, since you are prone to curiosity."

A slow smile turned John's lips upwards and Sherlock prepared himself for some kind of mockery, when his friend opened his mouth, but only one word came out. "Wrong."

In any other situation Sherlock would have laughed or scoffed at John's attempt at a joke, but this time, it only left him with a kind of sadness and despair, he had never experienced before. "You say that now, but you won't be able to ignore it. You will start to watch me more closely and try to see... the woman..."

"That has never been there in the first place." Sherlock's mouth dropped open at John's calm reply. His gaze raced over the well-known features of his friend, but that only thing he found there was honesty.

Oh!

Sherlock averted his eyes and stared down at his plate. No one had ever said that to him before. Hell, even his own mother had slipped one time and told Sherlock what a cute girl he had been, only to gasp in horror afterwards and hug him close. She had told Sherlock that he was her precious, little boy over and over again as tears had ran down his face. Not that Sherlock blamed her for it - not really - it had only been this one time and his mother had obviously been wandering down memory lane, when these words had popped up in her mind.

Nevertheless, it made John's words appear even more unbelievable and Sherlock stamped the hope down that tried to manifest itself in his chest. "No, that's right, but you won't see it like that... later. You will start making comparisons between... You are only just saying that because you want to do the right - the correct - thing and you are also probably in shock about..."

"Nonsense!" Sherlock jerked back as John jumped up from his chair - which wobbled alarmingly on its legs - and rounded the table to glower down at Sherlock. "Don't tell me what I'm supposed to feel, you stupid wanker! I'm not trying to say the right thing, I'm telling you what has been on my mind all along!"

Sherlock snorted at that, although a part of him yearned to believe John. He silenced it with brutal force. Believing John now, would only lead to more pain in the end. "With all along you mean," he glanced demonstratively at the clock. "Thirteen hours and about seven minutes? That's truly a long time to come to terms with finding out that your flatmate is transgender."

John didn't even bat an eye at Sherlock's outburst, but a confident smile played around the corner of his lips. "You mean," John glanced demonstratively at the newspaper on an otherwise empty chair and pointed at today's date. "For almost eleven months!"

Sherlock gaped, his mind reeling with the new information. John claimed that he had known his secret for almost a year, without Sherlock noticing it, that was... ridiculous! "You want me to believe that you knew that I'm transgender all along and that you didn't act any differently after finding out?" Sherlock snarled. It was better to be aggressive than to allow himself any kind of illusion. At least that way, he wouldn't appear weak at the end of their argument.

John raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes, that's what I'm saying."

Sherlock barked out a laugh and plastered a mocking smirk on his face. "Right, of course. Certainly, you also have a good explanation why you didn't say anything to me." He assumed that John would falter at this point, that his lie would be brought to light, so that they could finally start negotiating their future relationship, without John's well meant attempts at sparing Sherlock's feelings.

Again, Sherlock realised that he had miscalculated, when John's next words hit him like a club. "I just didn't care."

Sherlock felt all the color drain from his face as he tried very hard to appear unaffected by John's cutting remark. Of course, that explained why John hadn't acted differently around him and it made it believable that his friend had indeed known about Sherlock from almost the beginning of their association. If John didn't care about him and only enjoyed going on cases with him, then his actions - or lack of actions therefore- were understandable. The attraction between them was easily explained by chemicals - the adrenalin highs after catching a criminal - and John's kind behavior... just one of his many character traits.

Sherlock slumped in his chair in defeat. Everything had only been an illusion that his mind had created. There was obviously nothing to be read into John's kind words, his casual touches or the gentle smiles he bestowed upon Sherlock. He ignored the frantic voice in his head that tried to convince him that he was jumping to conclusions, that he was illogical and that he had taken John's words out of context. Sherlock squashed it easily. He was too wrung out to survive another crash today, if his hopes were allowed to rise even the tiniest bit.

"I see," he murmured and stared down at the floor. No use to make a dramatic exit or insult John, as his flatmate obviously didn't care one way or the other.

OOO

Shit!

John watched with horror how Sherlock paled and his face turned an unhealthy shade of gray. In his attempt to make his friend see that John wasn't as biased as most people, he had managed to find exactly the wrong words. He clenched his fists at his side, willing himself to keep still as every sense in him screamed to close Sherlock in his arms and hold him until he understood how much he meant to John. And at the same time... he wanted to chase down everyone who had ever hurt Sherlock. Every stupid bastard who had done or said anything that had made Sherlock believe that no one was ever going to love him the way he was. John just hoped that he didn't have to add Sherlock`s family to that list, as he didn't even want to start imagining what life had been like for Sherlock if he hadn't been accepted and supported by anyone.

"I see." The broken voice snapped John out of his desire for revenge and he found himself looking down at his apparently broken friend. Usually sharp eyes were downcast, his hollow cheeks framed by his disheveled curls, which underlined the paleness of Sherlock's skin even more. The picture tore at John's heartstrings. Sherlock shouldn't look like this - hopeless and defeated. Sherlock was meant to shine and be brilliant... to love and to be loved. John swallowed down a desperate thought that had threatened to fight his way past his throat. This conversation had been meant to show Sherlock that his fears of rejection were unfounded, instead...

His body took over his mind as John wasn't able to come up with the right words to soothe Sherlock's pain. He stumbled forward and sent a last prayer that he wouldn't walk around with a blue eye for the next few days as repayment for his actions, and closed his arms around Sherlock. His friend startled in his arms. Head jerking up and tensing when John closed his arms around his back and John knew that he had to say something now, if he didn't want to end up sprawled on the floor. Obviously his mind had only needed the right stimulation - Sherlock in his arms - to come up with words, as they rushed past John's lips like a tsunami past a stack of sandbags. "I found your hormone supplements in the bathroom one day and I only felt... relieved, because I knew at that point that you hadn't used the syringe for anything illegal. And don't believe for one second that I only felt this way, because I'm an upstanding citizens or other such nonsense. I was relieved, because it meant that you weren't hurting yourself, which I wouldn't have been able to stand. Even back then - when I only knew you for a few weeks - I worried about you."

John took a much needed and deep breath after unlashing that onslaught of words on Sherlock and he felt his friend relax a little in his arms. It wasn't much, but it was something and it gave John hope that they were making some progress here. He placed his head on Sherlock's shoulder to whisper the next confessions more intimately into his ear. "I didn't mean that I don't care about you, nothing could be farther away from the truth. I care a great deal about you or why do you think do I always pester you about your sleeping and eating habits? I worry about your health and I don't want to watch you destroying yourself. You are much too important to me to allow something like that to happen."

A quiet snort came from Sherlock at that, but he didn't make a move to break free of John's embrace. Instead he relaxed even farther into it. John smiled and continued, banning the British part of him that cringed at making sentimental confessions. "When I said that I don't care, I meant that it's not important to me what gender was assigned to you on your birth certificate. I have always seen you as the brilliant madman you are and I couldn't imagine you any other way. That's why I didn't bring your transition up... and also because I thought it would have been rude of me to ask any questions, when all I need to know is that... I love you, Sherlock."

A harsh intake of breath was the only warning John got, before Sherlock's head jerked up and almost knocked against John's. Trembling fingers clapped John's chin and forced him to meet the bright eyes of his friend. Disbelief and amazement was written all over Sherlock's face as if it was completely new to him that someone could feel so strongly for him. It probably was. John's heart clenched painfully in his chest at that realisation, but the pain was somewhat reduced as lips pressed tentatively against his.

The kiss was sweet and tender, highly different from the passionate snogging on the couch, but no less beautiful. Warmth spread through Johns body as he stroked Sherlock's curls and returned the kiss. It wasn't arousal, but a very pure kind of happiness that made John smile into the kiss.

"You really love me." Blue eyes were blown wide open with wonder when Sherlock drew back to gaze back up at John once more.

A small chuckle escaped him. "Of course, I do, you impossible man!"

Sherlock's lips turned up into a brilliant smile that seemed to brighten the whole room, before his gaze fell all of a sudden. "I'm sorry, John."

In light of the abrupt mood swing, John furrowed his brow. Sometimes, he truly wished that he could peek in Sherlock's huge brain to see what was going on in there. "I shouldn't have accused you of... being prejudiced, but I was..."

Sherlock shrugged, looking miserable and John sighed inwardly. He understood where Sherlock was coming from and he could only imagine how many times Sherlock had been hurt, just because he didn't fit in the neat little boxes of some narrow-minded arseholes. It was only to be expected that he would lash out if he thought someone was going to attack him verbally. It was a defense mechanism and John didn't hold it against Sherlock, although it had hurt a little that his friend had seen the need to defend himself against him. Nevertheless, the fact that Sherlock had accepted his declaration of love and obviously been happy about it, made up for that. Still, John didn't voice any of this thoughts as he crouched down in front of Sherlock and glanced up at him. "We both had a few exhausting days and much too little sleep. It's normal that we weren't at our best or we wouldn't have rushed head first in such an overwhelming situation like snogging on the couch." Heat crept into John's cheeks at the memory of that moment, but he ignored it. "It's probably for the best if we slow down a little... although I certainly don't mind your eager kisses after the conclusion of a case... or at any other time."

If Sherlock had looked surprised before, he appeared completely thrown now. John only hoped that it didn't mean that Sherlock couldn't imagine to be in a relationship with him. His heart thrummed in his veins as John watched his friend's expression for any telling sign. It would be hard for John to go back to just being friends with Sherlock after having kissed him. Still, he would make an effort if it was necessary, as Sherlock was much too important to John not to try. Still, it would be so much better if...

"You still want to be... my boyfriend?" John ignored Sherlock`s bewildered tone and nodded. "Yes, if you want to be my boyfriend as well?" He held his breath and almost missed the tentative nod as Sherlock inclined his head.

"I would like that very much", Sherlock's voice was a hesitant whisper. "But you should know John that I don't know when I'll be able to be... more intimate with you."

John rolled his eyes at that and took hold of Sherlock's hands to interlace their fingers. "I can wait as long as you need me to, but if I still do something that's off limits, then you have to tell me, promise?"

Sherlock nodded, a relieved smile on his face and dipped his head forward to peck John`s forehead. "Thank you."

John shook his head, trying to communicate that he hadn't done anything for what Sherlock had to thank him, but unable to give voice to his feelings as a lump had formed in his throat at seeing the raw emotions in Sherlock's eyes. If someone ever again described this wonderful man as inhuman, John would punch that idiot.

They remained in their relevant positions, staring in comfortable silence at each other, until John's legs reminded him of his age and he dragged himself back to his feet. "Let's eat, before everything goes cold."

There weren't any protests forthcoming from Sherlock as they both picked up their chopsticks to eat their favorite Chinese meals for the countless time since they had moved in at 221B. The only notable difference was that the fingers of their unoccupied hands were intertwined.

OOO

Sherlock awoke with a smile on his face. Usually, a rare occurrence for him and yet, it had happened in a row for the past couple of weeks when he hadn't felt so happy to start a new day since his childhood. It had nothing to do with the first trays of sunlight that filtered through the curtains in his bedroom and everything with the solid, warm body that spooned him from behind. Sherlock kept his eyes closed as he memorized every sensation of the moment. John's left arm was wrapped around Sherlock's middle - fingers sprawled just above his navel - and John's naked chest was pressed against Sherlock's back. If he concentrated he could feel every inhalation of breath in the way the muscles of John's chest constricted and then his warmth breath tickling Sherlock's neck a second later. He counted John's heartbeats - sixty-five per second - and chuckled quietly as it proved his earlier conclusion that his boyfriend was still sleeping, typical.

His boyfriend! Sherlock allowed a silly grin to stretch his lips. It still sounded too good to be true that John and he were... a couple. Especially as Sherlock had never been part of a couple before, at least not in terms of a loving and equal relationship. Any other time it had always... No, Sherlock shoved the thought into the depths of his Mind Palace. He didn't want to think of his past and what had gone wrong with other men, when he had finally realised that his failed relationships had never been his fault. Of course, Sherlock had known that his lovers had been wrong for insulting and humiliating him, but the notion that no one would ever been able to accept him for who he was, had never left Sherlock. At least not until John had happened to his life and had proven to him that Sherlock was loveable just the way he was.

Warmth tingled in Sherlock's belly as he recalled all the times they had spent kissing, since they had become a couple two weeks ago. Sometimes, it was just a kiss at the breakfast table and then it was snogging and cuddling in front of the TV and every time was just... perfect.

Tenderly, Sherlock traced the lines of John's hand with his fingers as he remembered how John had touched him. At first, it had been hesitant fingers, creeping under Sherlock's shirt and stroking his chest, until they had finally both gotten rid off the annoying fabric. That had been six days ago and since then, neither one of them wore a shirt to bed anymore.

Sherlock blinked his eyes open to look at the chair over which John's jeans and jumper were draped. If he looked around Sherlock would spot even more of his boyfriend's belongings. Jeans, jumpers, shirts and pants had slowly, but steadily migrated from the bedroom upstairs to Sherlock's... to their bedroom, since the first time Sherlock had mustered up the courage and asked John to join him in bed. It had been the first time, Sherlock had shared sleeping space with someone - besides his brother - and he had found that he enjoyed having John here with him. Certainly, it was a good reason to go to bed every night for at least a few hours, even if Sherlock didn't sleep. Snuggling up to John's warm body was worth postponing a few of his experiments. As if on cue, John inched closer to Sherlock, his feet nudging Sherlock's legs and his hips... Oh!

Sherlock's eyes widened as a hard length was pressed against his lower back. His heart speed up, blood rushed south as Sherlock shifted a little against John. His boyfriend murmured something unintelligible as he drew Sherlock closer against him, his hard erection rubbing against Sherlock's buttocks when John shifted. And Sherlock's mouth ran dry as he realised that he was just as aroused as John and that he wanted... something. Sherlock couldn't put a finger on what exactly he desired, as it had been over a decade, since he had last shared a bed - in the biblical sense - with someone.

"Mhm, Sherlock, you're awake?" John's voice sounded sleepy as he rubbed his cheek against Sherlock's shoulder. Sadly, the sleepiness only lasted a few seconds - Sherlock rather liked John pilable and disoriented in the morning - before his boyfriend jerked completely awake. Sherlock noticed it in the way John's heart rate sped up and how he sucked in a shocked breath, before a low chuckle escaped past his lips and tickled Sherlock's ear. "That hasn't happened to me in months."

John tried to shift his lower body away, but Sherlock stopped him with a hand on John's hips. His boyfriend stilled and Sherlock used the time to turn on his back and drew John on top of him. "It would be a shame to waste it." A corner of John`s lips was pulled upwards as he cocked his head to the side. "If you are sure, then I'm certainly not going to argue."

Sherlock nodded, glad that John hadn't worded it as a question. He was very grateful that John had wanted to move slow and that he hadn't pushed Sherlock - which would have ended in disaster - but he also didn't want John to hesitate to accept what Sherlock wanted to offer him. Doing so would only make him feel... flawed and Sherlock really didn't want to re-experience that feeling.

Somehow, John must have guessed on Sherlock's thoughts - or he was just eager to move things along - as he leaned forward to kiss Sherlock. Neither of them had brushed their teeth yet, but Sherlock couldn't imagine to get up now and correct that oversight. No, not when John's tongue was pushing eagerly in his mouth, fingers tangled in his curls and...

"Ahh!" Sherlock's moan broke their kiss. Electrical sparks raced down his spine as John twisted his other nipple with his fingers. "You like that," John observed. His mouth left a burning trail from Sherlock's collarbones to his chest, were John's skilled tongue leaped at his nipples.

"You do... as well," Sherlock panted as teeth scratched over his sensitive skin and heat pooled in his crotch. By the time John was finished with his nipples, they were hard and erect and Sherlock was throbbing with longing in his pants.

Gentle hands closed around the hem of his pajama bottoms and Sherlock looked up as John hesitated for a second. There was a question written in these gentle blue eyes, that Sherlock had come to love, and his stomach clenched as a variety of possible wordings floated through his mind.

"What exactly am I going to find down there?"

"Did you have some kind of surgery or are you still technically a woman?"

"Can you keep on pretending that you are a man, while I eat you out?"

"Can I fuck your cunt?"

"Sherlock," he blinked and shoved the obnoxious memories away, locking them in a cupboard in the cellar of his Mind Palace, as John grinned amusedly down at him. "Can I suck your cock?"

For a second Sherlock was too baffled to process John's words, his mind going blank as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that this amazing, wonderful man was in fact his boyfriend. His boyfriend, who was regarding him with a worried expression and gnawing at his lower lip like John always did, when he thought that he had made an error. "Sorry," John muttered right on cue. "I didn't... was that the wrong thing to ask?"

A low chuckle left Sherlock`s mouth and he shook his head. "No, I was just... surprised. No one has ever..." Sherlock stopped abruptly, unsure how he should explain to John how much this simple question meant to him. Fortunately, it turned out that there was no need for farther explanations, when John smiled warmly down at him. "Then I shall make your first blowjob memorable." With that, John stripped off his own pants first and threw them away, treating Sherlock to the sight of his completely naked boyfriend for the first time.

Hungrily, Sherlock's eyes travelled over John's exposed body - only sparing a brief glance for his chest, which he had already memorized - and lingered on his proud length. Sherlock licked his lips as he took in the pink head of John's erection and grinned as it twitched when John chuckled softly. "Like what you see?"

Their eyes met and Sherlock was only able to nod as John leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips. "Lift up a little," John urged him gently and Sherlock did as he was told without thinking twice about it. Only after his pants had been taken off, Sherlock realised that he was lying completely naked on his bed. His body exposed for John to judge. Sherlock waited for the panic, that had always threatened to overwhelm him in these moments with a new lover, but it never came. John was different than anyone else and Sherlock's stomach only flattered slightly with nerves, when he glanced at John to judge his reaction. Blue eyes - pupils blown wide with desire - met his gaze and proved to Sherlock that his trust hadn't been misplaced. "Dear God, Sherlock, you are fucking gorgeous!"

Strong hands wandered over his thighs and sent sparks of lust through Sherlock's body as his flesh throbbed with need and a longing moan broke past his lips as the tip of John's finger passed over the sensitive knob of nerves. "John, please!"

His boyfriend chuckled at that, but teased Sherlock once more, before finally crouching down between his spread legs. John leaned forward, his mouth already opened and then paused once more. "Do we need a condom? I'm clean, but I don't know if you... mind a bit of a mess."

Sherlock marveled again at John's tact, although he should be used to it by now, but somehow he suspected that it was impossible to get used to the wonder of one John Watson. "I'm clean as well. I don't mind a mess - you should know that by now. And we don't have to worry about any other... mishaps."

John nodded and didn't ask any follow up questions - the doctor part of him satisfied - as his mouth - finally - found its destination. Sherlock couldn't help the groan that was torn from him as John's lips closed around his throbbing flesh and a skilled tongue encircled the sensitive bundle of nerves. Dear God, it was pure heaven! Sherlock's whole body throbbed with lust as John kept on pleasuring him. He teased Sherlock's needy flesh with his tongue, sucked him in as far as it was possible and his fingers... He moaned as one of them rubbed against his opening and Sherlock suddenly yearned to have a part of John inside him. He thrust his hips up, urging John to push inside and whimpered when his wish wasn't fulfilled.

"John... please," Sherlock all but whimpered as heat pooled in his belly with every stroke of John's tongue. He was already so close to the edge, but he wanted... he needed... "Inside! Your finger... inside me... Ah yes!" Sherlock threw his head back as John's finger pushed into him, angled in just the right way to send new waves of lust through his body and made Sherlock's toes curl in response. John was such a tease to make him almost beg for it! A tiny part of his mind pointed out to Sherlock that John had probably only wanted his explicit permission and that this made him an even greater lover, but Sherlock didn't pay it any attention to it. There would come a time to replay this memory in his Mind Palace and analyze it, but not now.

Sherlock writhed on the bed, gasps and curses falling from his lips as John brought him closer to his climax with every passing second. Two of his fingers were pushing into Sherlock by now, rubbing against his inner walls and... Oh God! A hoarse scream broke from his lips when Sherlock tumbled over the edge. His inner muscles constricted and closed around John's fingers as wave after wave of pure pleasure flowed through his body. A low groan sounded from John and warm liquid splashed against his inner thighs and crotch, but Sherlock was too far gone to draw any conclusions from that. It felt like he was coming for ages, before the waves of pleasure ebbed away to gentle ripples.

Sherlock shuddered as John withdrew his fingers from within him and shifted upwards on the bed, until he was snuggled against Sherlock's side. John bedded his head on Sherlock's shoulder and threw an arm across his chest, nuzzling his neck with soft lips. They lay there like that, until their bodies had cooled down and their breathing had evened out once more.

"That was fantastic." Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's forehead and grabbed around for the covers as a shiver ran through his body. John hummed in agreement and the content sound finally kicked Sherlock's brain back into motion again. From his former experiences with sex, Sherlock knew that most people only wanted to cuddle after they had come... but John hadn't come. At least not from anything Sherlock had intentionally done. Sherlock quirked an eyebrow - a theory forming in his mind - and let his hands travel down John's body, over his chest and to his crotch, where Sherlock encountered... a soft and spent cock. Sherlock blinked and made to sit up to verify with his eyes what his other senses were telling him, but John growled in protest and kept him pinned down on the bed. "Yes, I came just from watching you getting off... I can't help how hot you look!"

Heat crept in Sherlock's cheeks, even as a smug smile pulled his lips upwards. "I knew that you would like that, vain bastard," John muttered affectionately and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's mouth.

"I would have liked to suck you off in return even more." Another kiss, more eager this time, before John snuggled back against him and pulled the covers up to their chests. "Next time, definitely next time, but now," he yawned and Sherlock could tell that he was on the verge of falling asleep. "I'm tired."

Sherlock nodded and closed his eyes as well. He waited until John's breathing had slowed down again, before he ducked his head and whispered three little words into John's ear, that he hadn't dared to voice until now. He was almost asleep when a soft murmur penetrated his senses. "I love you, too."

Sherlock fell asleep with a smile on his face, enfolded in John's scent and with his body snuggled against him. And that was really all that mattered!