A/N: Hope everyone had a nice Halloween. I dressed as Marceline from Adventure Time and really freaked people out with the fake vampire fangs. Anyway. Thanks for the feedback, it's always welcome and nice to hear.

I'm remembering to post the url to my tumblr blog for my fics. It's 347 9084 . tumblr . com remove the spaces.

This chapter is rated M.

On Friday night, Sherlock arrives at the party at eight, just like John told him. He puts on his nicest jeans and nicest black sweater vest, he even combs his hair, before making the trek to John's.

The fact that they're only four blocks away from each other most times is the most convenient thing, for both of them. It means that entertainment is only down the street, and somewhere to go when you're lonely is just a short walk away.

John opens the door with a smile. "Hey, Buddy," he jokingly greets.

"Don't call me that," Sherlock instructs, pushing past John to go inside.

The house is empty, save for muffled music coming from upstairs.

"Hungry?" John asks. "My mum got us-"

"You lied. You said there was a party. Where is the party?"

John laughs. "Relax, Sherlock. I wanted you here early."

Sherlock eyes him. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to hear you whine about how I didn't spend any time with you tonight. Now," John sits on the sofa and pats the seat next to him. "Sit down, kiss me, and tell me about your day."

So Sherlock does. After sitting next to John (close enough for Sherlock to twine his fingers with John's, to John's delight), he starts with the kissing, then he starts talking and doesn't stop for an hour, not until the music from upstairs stops. Loud laughing is heard through the house, and John and Sherlock look up at the ceiling when they hear thumping footsteps.

Their gaze shifts to the stairs when a door swings open and the footsteps are heard heading to the stairs.

"Hey John!" a loud, high pitched voice calls. "Where's my-" she pauses when she sees Sherlock. "Oh, hey Sherlock!"

Sherlock waves a bit. "Hey, Harry."

Harry smiles and continues down the stairs in front of three other people; two girls and a boy.

"Sherlock, this is Clara, Sarah, and Ben. Guys, this is John's boyfriend, Sherlock."

Everyone says hello. Sherlock notices Ben's lingering gaze on either him or John, so he tightens his hand in John's and leans so his shoulder is pressed against John's.

"What did you want, Harry?" John asks, hardly noticing Sherlock at all.

"My Ramones shirt. Ben spilled vodka on his shirt."

John shrugs. "I don't-"

Finally, the doorbell rings. John brightens up, knowing its a party guest, then he practically runs to the door.

The party starts quickly after that. Many kids show up, a lot of alcohol gets passed around, and Sherlock just tries to stay out of the way.

John talks to everyone, only checking on Sherlock a few times. Sherlock stands against the wall, not trying to be noticed by anyone.

He succeeds, until around eleven o'clock, when Harry's friend Ben finds him.

"I've been looking for you," Ben says, trying to shake Sherlock's hand. "I'm Ben. And you're Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock glances at Ben's hand, but doesn't do anything more.

"Harry's told me a lot about you," Ben says, shifting so he's standing next to Sherlock instead of in front of him. "She told me about your little...trick."

Sherlock just nods, not wanting to talk to Ben.

Ben doesn't leave, though. "It sounds neat, what you do. It's like a superpower, knowing everything about everyone by one glance."

Sherlock shrugs and sips his drink (water).

"Do me," Ben says, crowding Sherlock close.

Sherlock chokes on his water. "What?"

"Tell me everything about myself," Ben asks again.

Sherlock shakes his head. "That's not a very good idea."

"I asked, didn't I? Come on, I'm expecting the worst."

Sherlock concedes. Ben did ask. If it goes south, at least he has that to defend himself. He gives Ben one more look over, then spills:

"You were involved in a mugging just two days ago, but you'd rather hide it than ask for help or let anyone know. You're not drinking, and someone else spilled vodka on your shirt earlier. Your hand has been in your pocket all evening, you're twiddling something between your fingers, and you're very on edge. So I can assume...A.A. chip? A year sober?"

"How-"

"I can tell you tried to fight your attacker, from the bruise on your knuckles, but I can tell he won because the poor make-up attempting to cover the bruise on your cheek.
As for A.A," Sherlock adds, "well, you had to have met Harry Watson somewhere. Obviously it's not working out very well for her. She only went to one meeting, didn't she?"

Sherlock looks at Ben as soon as he's done talking, and Sherlock is sure Ben is about to throw his drink in Sherlock's face. Sherlock didn't tell him anything truly offensive, even he knows that, but people react extremely to their secrets being uncovered.

To his shock, however, Ben mutters, "Wow."

Sherlock looks away from Ben.

"Amazing," Ben adds.

"So I've heard," Sherlock sarcastically says.

"You don't hear that often?"

Sherlock finally spots John emerging from the crowd of people. "I hear it enough."

Ben follows Sherlock's gaze to John. He smiles. "How long have you and John been together?"

Sherlock shrugs. "Few months."

"And I bet you're just terribly smitten," Ben says.

Sherlock doesn't have time to find out what he means, for John makes his way to them just then.

"Harry's going to shut the party down," John tells Sherlock, quickly and frantically grabbing his hand. "Let's go to bed."

"Uh..." Sherlock mutters, then lets John drag him upstairs.

"John..." Sherlock tries as soon as they're in John's bedroom. "I have to go home. You know I can't spend the night."

"Please?" John begs. "Just tell your dad you slept on the couch again."

Sherlock sighs and tries to get his hand out of John's grip.

"You can't leave me alone," John says. "If you leave, you'll be wondering all night if I'm going to choke on my own vomit or something."

Sherlock pauses. John is right, of course. Sherlock would be terribly worried about John all night if he leaves. "Fine," Sherlock finally agrees.

John smiles. "I promise to keep my hands to myself," he says, chuckling to himself.

Sherlock doesn't say anything, he only goes to John's drawer to pick out pajamas for himself.

Once they're both ready, they climb into the bed, laying facing each other.

"Did you have a good time?" John asks after a loud yawn.

Sherlock shrugs.

"Tomorrow we'll spend all day together, yeah? Maybe I'll bake you some cookies."

Sherlock perks up. He loves when John bakes.

"Like that, love?"

Sherlock nods.

"Harry'll be gone by morning, she's leaving town with her friends. After my mum goes back to work at ten, we'll be alone."

"Should I...be gone...before your mum arrives?"

"Nah," John snorts. "Don't worry about it. She won't check on me."

Sherlock nods and closes his eyes.

"I love you," John whispers minutes later, after Sherlock thinks he's asleep.

"I love you too John," Sherlock whispers back.

Sherlock wakes up the next morning really very happy. He's completely surrounded by John; he can feel John, he can smell John, he can hear John, and if he opens his eyes he would see John's hand on his chest.

As if feeling him wake, John's sleeping body shifts closer to Sherlock, as if saying, "Don't you dare move." However, with the closer press, Sherlock's eyes fly open and he gasps. John is pressed very tightly and very…hard…against his backside.

They haven't had sex. They did try, though, about a month ago. Sherlock, even though he wouldn't admit it, was terribly nervous. He hardly talked during the dinner John made for them, he hardly talked while they digested afterwards, and he didn't say a word while they made their way up to John's bedroom.

"We are not doing this," John had said, who was second by second growing more nervous than Sherlock.

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock tried to apologize. He didn't want to ruin this evening for John, who actually had been excited about it.

"Only be sorry that you didn't voice your concerns, love. I don't want to hurt you, so if you're not ready, you're not ready."

Sherlock just nodded and let John kiss him a few times before leading him back downstairs to eat ice cream.

But now, intimately in bed with John for the first time since then, and after all the knowledge of sex he could possibly cram in his head over the past month, he feels different. There's no pressure. There's no time limit. They won't be interrupted. The only problem is that John is the most difficult person ever to wake up.

So Sherlock gets to work before he loses the desire to be with John.

He starts by poking the arm that's wrapped around him. "John…" he whispers, but the sound is lost. Obviously, poking isn't going to be the way to go, so Sherlock lifts John's arm off of him completely and turns onto his back.

Sherlock has a soft spot for early morning John. Even as kids, when they'd spend the night together, Sherlock would lay awake staring at him while charting his breathing patterns, his eye patterns, even the blush of his warm skin. And this was all before Sherlock realized he loves John. Now, there's a whole new canvas to chart: the way John licks his lips in his sleep, the pulse in his neck, the twitch of his fingers, and now the tent in his pajama pants.

Sherlock licks his lips and has the desire to lick John.

He shoves John's shoulder. "John, wake up."

John only rolls onto his back. Sherlock's eyes can't help but scale John's body. He props himself up on an elbow to look down at John's face. He strokes John's face, then kisses where his fingers left.

"John…" he purrs.

He kisses John's cheek again when John stirs a fraction, letting his head roll to look away from Sherlock, baring his neck for Sherlock's entertainment.

Sherlock leans close, first sniffing that neck. It smells of John, a hint of dry tequila, of sleep, and faintly of John's cologne. Sherlock doesn't mind the tequila scent, he just ignores it and begins to spread kisses on John's neck.

John sighs. He stretches his neck a fraction more, giving Sherlock more room, He kisses, licks, and sucks at John's neck, feeling himself getting as aroused as he hopes John is. So he climbs on top of John and continues licking his neck.

"Mmmm…" John sighs.

"Wake up, John, please," Sherlock begs.

John's hands slither over the sheets and up to Sherlock's thighs. He squeezes Sherlock's thighs and takes a deep breath, moving his head to face Sherlock again.

"What's this?" John wonders, excited confusion in his voice.

Sherlock plants his elbows on the bed on either side of John's head. "I thought that was obvious," Sherlock says, playing with John's hair. "I'm ready, John."

John smiles and kisses his nose. "Well then," is all John says, then wraps his arms around Sherlock's back and flips Sherlock over so he's now laying on John's arms. He kisses Sherlock deeply, and Sherlock is thankful he at least made John brush his teeth before bed.

It's not awkward, like they both thought it'd be. It's actually quite easy. They kiss for many minutes, until their bodies are begging for each other. Then, John pulls Sherlock's shirt up and presses a hand to his bare stomach, then rubs his hand up Sherlock's skin and stops at Sherlock's neck.

This makes them pause to rip their clothes off. John sits back on his heels to pull Sherlock's pajama pants off while Sherlock scrambles to get his shirt off, and soon John's as naked as Sherlock, so he falls back over Sherlock and grinds his hips.

"Oh, god…" Sherlock gasps, surprised.

"What? What?" John frantically questions, needing to be sure Sherlock is no less than one-hundred-percent good.

"That felt good," Sherlock says, still surprised. "Do it again."

John grins and does it again, slower this time, and Sherlock groans.

"Do this," John says, placing a hand on Sherlock's hip. He thrusts down and shows Sherlock how to undulate up, and Sherlock's eyes grow wide. "Good?"

"Perfect," Sherlock replies, continuously moving his hips.

"I love you, Sherlock," John mutters between short kisses. Not the short kisses, these short kisses are only short because they're trying to focus on rhythm.

Sherlock ends that after he tells John he loves him back by placing one hand on John's neck, one on John's bum, and sticking his tongue deep into John's mouth.

John gives up with the thrusting. Instead, he reaches between them and shoves his hand into Sherlock's pants, giving him half a dozen strokes before Sherlock spills all over his hand.

Sherlock groans and moans and pants, then whines as he comes. John watches his face, watches his eyebrows knit together, his eyes blissfully close, his mouth form a perfect circle, and his cheeks blush. Sherlock scratches John's shoulder as he begins to relax.

John lets him go, then reaches into his own pants and comes as Sherlock plunders his mouth and moans, and John realizes he wants to hear Sherlock make these noises forever. He never wants to stop touching Sherlock like this, he's so glad he's finally making Sherlock feel this way.

John cleans his hand on the discarded shirt, then tosses it towards the bathroom and lays next to Sherlock.

"So?" John asks, not sure what to say next.

Sherlock looks at him. "That was…good?"

John looks at him. "Was that a question or a statement?"

"Question," Sherlock clarifies. "I think."

"Oh. Good? No," John says, smiling. "It was amazing."

Sherlock smiles back.

"What brought that on?" John asks.

Sherlock shrugs. "I don't know, I just woke up and wanted to. Plus, you were hard and pressing against my bum so it was—"

John covers his face, embarrassed. Sherlock can see his blush.

Sherlock chuckles and grabs John's arm to pull it away from his face. "I was going to say it was pretty sexy, and I had to have you."

John lowers his hand and looks at him. "Really?"

Sherlock nods. "I'm glad we did it. I'm glad it wasn't as awkward as I thought it'd be."

"It wasn't awkward, was it?" John asks, grabbing Sherlock's hand, then playing with his fingers.

Sherlock leans over and kisses John lightly.

After kissing and silently laying together for a few more minutes, John excuses himself to the shower. Sherlock is thankful, for the smell of alcohol is now being sweated out of John, so he check's his (John's) email while John is gone.

After showering, both of them, they go downstairs to have a private breakfast alone. When they're finished, they go to Sherlock's because he has an experiment that needs to be done and because John wants to be offered a home-cooked meal for dinner. They have a nice Saturday together, and with every kiss lingers the memory of the morning they shared.