A/N: I'd really appreciate feedback on the make out scene because I've never really written one like that before and I want to know how you guy's think it went.

~SHERLOCK~

"Sherlock I cannot believe you!" John shook his head, "I absolutely cannot believe," he growled and put his face in his hands. His voice trailed off and Sherlock shifted uncomfortably next to him.

"John," Sherlock waited for an acknowledgment from his flat mate but with none forthcoming he just continued on, "I know you're a little upset over my refusal to have my mother unlock us but it's really for the best."

That had gotten a reaction, although not quite the one Sherlock had been hoping for. John looked up at Sherlock with disbelief, and when he spoke, fury colored his tone. "For the best? Sherlock this is not the best for us! Your stupid pride is nothing compared to my life Sherlock! Remember I have things to do outside of being your friend and flat mate!"

Silence rang out in the room. Sherlock looked incredibly down put and wouldn't meet John's gaze. John on the other hand was furiously glaring at Sherlock, waiting for the other man to speak. Sherlock took in a deep breath, letting it out as he folded his hands in the way he would often do when he was thinking seriously about a case. John remained silent.

"It's not…I just…" Sherlock growled in frustration, "I know you have a life outside of me and that's the reason why!"

"Why what Sherlock?"

Sherlock was struggling. Talking was normally so easy for him, just state the truth blandly and everything will work out. Now, if he didn't use the right words then everything could go to hell. "You are my life. There isn't a single aspect of my life that you don't touch anymore."

It was as if all the anger had been drained from John, only leaving tiredness and confusion. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" He asked.

"It means I don't like it when you bring girlfriends back to our home. Girlfriend whose names you can barely remember! I don't like it that you when you go out to the pub with your coworkers, people I don't know. You know everyone in my life, everyone who's important anyways. There isn't a single aspect of my life that you don't touch anymore." Sherlock repeated.

"I still don't see why that means we have to be handcuffed together."

"I want to be in every part of your life as you are in mine. I didn't think that you would appreciate me following you around everywhere so I devised a plan that would force you to allow me in." Sherlock said.

It was so utterly ridiculous that John chuckled and relaxed backwards, looking up at the ceiling, "Only you Sherlock could dream up something so daft as that instead of saying it straight."

"These feelings are hard enough to get across to you John without you making comments." Sherlock went slightly red and looked away from John.

"And what feelings are those Sherlock?" John twisted his head over to stare at Sherlock. He was completely red now, the paleness of his skin doing nothing to hide the embarrassed flush working itself onto his face. Sherlock cleared his throat and gripped his knees, looking down at the floor.

They sat there like that for minutes that felt like hours, with Sherlock looking at the floor and John looking at Sherlock. Sherlock was taking deep breaths, obviously trying to calm himself, but failing miserably. His hands were shaking on his knees.

Carefully, John slipped his hand into Sherlock's, gauging the reaction he received. Sherlock tightly held onto John's hand, the shaking slowly going away. Sherlock turned his head sharply to look at John, their eyes meeting each other's. Hoping, praying that he had observed all the signs correctly, John took a deep breath and leaned upwards to Sherlock, softly pressing their lips together.

And damn does it feel like everything great and amazing rolled into one. First kisses with new people are normally awkward, neither is too sure of the other's kissing style and how to fit their mouths together properly, or if the kiss should even be happening. But this, this is as close to perfect as a kiss can get. The kiss started off slightly shy and testing, just brushing their mouths together. But after a moment, surety takes over and Sherlock is moving his lips more confidently against John's. There's no doubt John is the more experienced kisser, but Sherlock isn't that bad at all.

Sherlock brings the hand that isn't still handcuffed to John upwards to cup John's face and bring it closer. John pokes his tongue out, swiping it across the crack in Sherlock's lips, asking for entrance. His silent requested is granted, but it only takes a few moments before Sherlock is pressing his tongue against John's and copying the movements. John gasps slightly when Sherlock inches his body forward so that there is no space between them anymore. This gasp is taken advantage of and soon it is John who is on the defensive, Sherlock's tongue gracefully sweeping past his open lips and smoothly mapping its way around John's mouth.

It isn't until John hears a woman clearing her throat that he realizes that Sherlock and him have ended up in a vertical position, with Sherlock on top. Completely embarrassed, John pushes Sherlock off and winces as Mrs. Holmes face looks down at them from over the couch.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather you both continue this in Sherlock's bedroom. I don't want to have to explain the mess the maids will find tomorrow if you continue your activities here." She said in a strict, but very amused tone of voice.

Now utterly mortified, John scrambled up, ready to dash out of the room, except for the now more pleasant weight on his arm, pulling him back down. John found himself in the lap of Sherlock Holmes, who put his arms around John and held him still.

"Sorry mother." Sherlock apologized. She graced his apology with a nod.

"I believe then you'll want this?" Mrs. Holmes held out the key, and this time Sherlock took it.

Still in Sherlock's grasp, John could only stay still as Sherlock pulled up John's handcuffed wrist and unlocked it. A small sigh of relief did make its way out of John's mouth as the handcuff came off. Not that he would admit it, but the handcuff was beginning to chafe his wrist a bit.

When both of them were fully un-cuffed, Sherlock slipped the handcuffs into his pocket and looked back to his mother with a look that John couldn't identify. Mrs. Holmes gave Sherlock another mysterious look before waving them away. As they stood to leave, Mrs. Holmes reached out and hugged them both. She smiled and patted their faces in a motherly way and said, "Take good care of my son John."

"I always do Mrs. Holmes."

"Thank you dear." She smiled warmly at him.

Sherlock and John left and walked back towards the noise of the party. At the top of the stairs they stood, looking down at all the socialites still walking about. Sherlock looked distastefully at the crowd, and after a quick glance at John he said, "Do…do you just want to head back to our flat? We can grab dinner at Angelo's."

John chuckled, "And after we eat we can get to those activities your mother was suggesting?"

Sherlock shrugged and looked away, but not fast enough that John didn't catch the blush edging itself onto his face. "Possibly," Sherlock murmured.

"We're going to have to sneak past Mycroft then," John said.

"Oh, I think we can crawl out one of the windows." Sherlock smirked and grabbed hold of John's hand, leading him down the stairs. "He'll be too mortified to do anything about it." John only laughed in response and followed behind Sherlock.

~SHERLOCK~

They did actually end up climbing out the first window they came across that they could jump out of without breaking anything. Mycroft was, of course, incredibly irritated, but held off from calling the dogs on Sherlock and John after Mrs. Holmes came downstairs and chided him.

Angelo delighted in finally being able to place candles on the table without protest from John. He even took a good amount off the tab, although that might have been because Sherlock had been able to get him off for possible manslaughter charges the week prior.

Even though they had been handcuffed together for far too long, and he had complained and complained about wanting to be separated from Sherlock, John never let go of Sherlock's hand the entire way home.

The End~

Omake~ Less than Three

Edit Note: Because the less than symbol doesn't work on fanfiction I'll just be putting 'less than' to represent it

After two months of being 'official', as John had put it, Sherlock received a text from John that incredibly puzzled him.

I'll be back by 2 with milk. Less than 3

-John

Less than three? What did that mean? Sherlock flopped down onto the couch, and immediately went through his mind database.

Less than three. Less than three. Did John mean milk was less than three? But that didn't make any sense at all. Was John trying to send him a coded message through text? That was possible.

Sherlock leapt off the couch and grabbed pen and paper and began. He first went through all the codes John would know, military codes, and silly child codes. The only thing that appeared was the phrase 'The buttress bitter blue' which Sherlock did ponder over for a while, but finally dismissed as nonsense and moved on. He tried codes that were more advanced and came up empty. Frustrated, Sherlock threw down the pen and shoved the now stack of papers onto the floor. Nothing he had tried worked! It was possible that John was in deep trouble! What if he was really hurt and waiting for Sherlock to come rescue him?

Sherlock began pacing, worry clouding his thoughts. Maybe it wasn't code. GPS possibly? Sherlock dismissed that idea after only ten seconds of thinking on it.

Maybe he should call Mycroft. It was a desperate last resort but this was John they were talking about after all. Sherlock reached for his phone, ready to dial the number, when the door behind him opened and John bustled in with a bag of milk.

"Is it safe to put this in the fridge? You did throw out the human pancreas you had in there earlier, right?" John glanced at Sherlock, and stopped dead, "What's wrong Sherlock? You look even more pale than usual."

"John!" Sherlock lunged across the room, grasping John into a tight hug.

John staggered back, swearing when the bag of milk hit the floor. "Sherlock! I had to fight through a crowd of people to get that milk! If it's spilled!" He left the threat hanging. Sherlock still held him tighter. John rolled his eyes and reached out as well, collecting Sherlock into his arms. "What's wrong?"

"I got your message and I couldn't decode it. I was worried you were dying somewhere." Sherlock placed his head on John's neck, breathing in the faint smell of antiseptic and John's bath soap.

"My message? You mean the one where I told you I was going to be back at two with milk? What was so cryptic about it?" John asked.

"The less than three part." Sherlock muttered. John continued looking confused for the briefest of moments before throwing his head back and laughing.

Sherlock was upset at John for laughing at his worries until John actually explained to him what the symbols 3 meant together. Then Sherlock was just huffy and deigned John to a small make-out session to make him pay for worrying him so much.

The make-out session also proved a good distraction from the huge mess of papers now scattered about in their living room. Sherlock figured Mrs. Hudson could take care of them later.

~SHERLOCK~

A/N: Watch the Sherlock/John Thousand Years video on YouTube done by lollimaki. It really gave me the inspiration to finish this (funny enough even though this is a light hearted fic and that video is so sad XD)

One day I might go back and rewrite this. I'm only really happy with how the last chapter turned out, the rest of them read a little awkward to me. But thanks to all who took the time to review and read this, I owe you guys a lot with encouraging me on in this. *tips top hat* So, yes, thank you.