Words to a Stranger

By: Raven612 & Strawberry-Green-Girl

Summary: The internet is a vast network of strangers and codes. John Watson immerses himself here to better deal with Sherlock's death. Three years later, John ends up finding someone who isn't such a stranger. Post Reichenbach. MAJOR SPOILERS for the final episode.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I wish I did, but sadly, they belong to their respective companies and life forms.

Warnings: Man on man action…don't like then don't read! Also some dirty language and bad words. Not for kids!

A/N: A few nights ago fate messed with me and Strawberry-Green-Girl. We ended up together in omegle and proceeded to have an amazing RP conversation about Sherlock and John finding each other. I was John and she was Sherlock. I felt like turning our conversation into a fic. I hope you enjoy it and look us up on tumblr! My tumblr is http :/iamsherlockedandtied. tumblr. com/ and Strawberry-Green-Girl is http :/sherlock-cumberbatch. tumblr. com/ [erase the spaces]

For the first few months that followed the death of Sherlock Holmes, John Watson was lost. He couldn't tell which direction was which and he bloody well didn't give a fuck. He'd gone through the motions during the service and the burial, nothing registering to him on any level, he couldn't even remember what it was the preacher had said or anyone else had shared during the whole ordeal. The only thing John remembered, besides the fall, was the time he and Mrs. Hudson visited Sherlock's grave. He'd asked the detective to just perform one last miracle, to come back and show the world he was alive and he was not a fake. Nothing in the entire world could make John Watson believe that his flatmate and best friend was a fake. James Moriarty was real.

What john had not been expecting, even months later when he finally screwed up the courage to write a very short blog post, was the astounding support throughout the fanbase he'd unwittingly amassed while blogging about he and Sherlock's adventures. Soon signs and shirts appeared all over London proclaiming the reality of James Moriarty and their belief in the detective. The gestures had touched John more deeply than he had expected them to. He soon found himself joining in and helping to spread the word. He wanted everyone to know just how real Jim was and the nightmares he created within his vast web of minions. John had been there and he had lived through them all, and they still haunted him to his core.

So, three years later, almost precisely to the date, John Watson had lost himself in the vast world of the internet. The internet had provided a place for him to hide and to be among supporters in the early months, but now, it was just a place that John could go to escape the everyday pain of his still too empty life. He'd had countless flings and more nights at the bottom of the bottle than he cared to remember or count.

Three years later and John Watson still felt the raw sting of the wound Sherlock Holmes had left in his chest. To combat the feeling John logged onto an anonymous chat website. He'd gone to the site many times before; it was a quick and easy way to first spread the word about Sherlock, but now it was a way for him to just find someone to help the ache. He didn't care what they talked about, just so long as he could just let things out. Sometimes the site provided a prompt to get the conversation rolling, but mostly John relied on the other stranger to start them off. He'd been on the site for a little over a half hour when he got a prompt…one that made his heart skip a beat.

Some miracles take time. SH

John blinked as he read it. Sherlock died three years ago, the fanbase had all but ceased in that time. John's breath caught and he sat back in his chair. He rubbed a hand over his face. It couldn't be…there was absolutely no way, but then…no one else was in the cemetery with him that day. Mrs. Hudson had left him on his own to talk to Sherlock. John shook his head.

"No fucking way…no," he said to himself and raised shaking hands to the keyboard of his laptop. He had no clue what his fingers were doing; the shock was still too great for him.

Sherlock?-JW

John.. –SH

John gasped. He almost shoved his laptop off of his knees. There was no way this was Sherlock. Sherlock was dead, John watched him fall to his death. He had seen the entire thing. For a long second John couldn't answer. His brain went offline. He wanted to snap his computer shut and curl up in his bed and not think about what the stranger on the other side of the internet was doing, but he needed to know, so he pulled his computer closer and started to type again.

Don't you mess with me-JW

John stared hard at the screen. He willed whoever was on the other end to type faster. He needed the confirmation that this was someone messing with him. He needed to know that this was fake because that was the only explanation for this. Ghosts did not exist, and Sherlock Holmes would never come back as one.

I'm not "messing with you", as you put it. I'm quite serious. –SH

A small smirk pulled at John's lips. He could hear Sherlock's voice. The pure annoyance as he addressed such a pedestrian task; messing with someone, to think that Sherlock Holmes would stoop to a normal human level and 'mess' with someone. John snorted. Of course Sherlock would never do that. He shook his head. He didn't know if he believed this stranger or not, but it felt good to be lost in the illusion. Maybe if he pretended along with the stranger then the pain that surrounded him would lessen. It was worth a shot. John flexed his fingers and typed a response.

D-do you even know what you've put me through Sherlock?-JW

Yes, I do, and I'm sorry. I never wanted you to go through any of it, but I had no choice. –SH

Oh, whoever this was, they were good, they had done their research.

There is always a choice, Sherlock...why did you stay away for so long?-JW

I had to make sure. I had to make sure it was all over. I couldn't put you at risk, with the possibility of Moriarty's web still intact. I had to stay away for your own good. –SH

John stopped typing. He blinked. The words on the screen registered with something in his mind, especially the word web. John had to close his eyes for a moment to recall how that word affected him. He'd heard it before, and then it hit him. That day in court, Sherlock had referred to the bastard Moriarty as a spider and his vast network a web. Whoever was chatting with John right now was good, almost too good. John shook his head; he still had more he wanted to get out, things he wanted to tell Sherlock so that finally he might be able to feel a sense of peace.

You could have let me know...just one little sign you were still alive out there...couldn't you have trusted me with at least that much?-JW

It's not that I didn't trust you, John. I do, and always did, trust you. But the risk was too great. The smallest sign could have been deadly. –SH

Did Mycroft know you were still alive?-JW

Yes, but only because I needed his help. –SH

When will you come back Sherlock? When will you come back to me?-JW

When you let me in. It's rather cold out here. –SH

A sound escaped John's throat as he read the last thing the stranger typed. His eyes went wide. This was going too far now. He had to stop this game. It was starting to get too personal and the wounds were starting to fester. John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He counted to ten before opening his eyes and reading the screen again. He placed his fingers on the keyboard and started typing.

Sh

With a guttural cry John shoved his laptop from his lap and got to his feet. He stumbled over the cord and cursed under his breath as he shook his foot free. He then reached the door to the flat and threw it open. He looked out into the hall. There was no one there, of course there wouldn't be anyone there; there was never anyone there. He looked down the stairs to the front door. He clenched his fists. He could check, just check beyond that door and see, just see that it was a stranger messing with him, just see that Sherlock Holmes is still dead; still so very dead.

John shuffled out of the flat. He stood at the very top of the stairs. He stared down at the door. He could hear a muted television show from Mrs. Hudson's flat. He pulled in a deep breath and reached forward to clasp the railing. His arm shook as he moved his feet forward. He shouldn't be afraid; there was nothing to be afraid of. He would open the door and no one would be there. He would not find Sherlock Holmes standing on the other side because that was impossible. John descended the stairs slowly. He argued with himself the entire way. As he got to the landing, one thing was very clear, if Sherlock Holmes was, for some reason, standing on the other side of that door, then John was going to murder him himself.

John reached for the door handle. His fingers slowly closed over the cold metal. His breath caught in his throat as he slowly turned the knob. His heart began to pound furiously in his chest. His eyes blinked rapidly. Slowly, ever so slowly, John opened the door to 221B Baker Street. He had to step back as the door swung inwards and he blinked. The streetlight outside blinded him for a moment and then his vision cleared and he knew he was dead. Standing right in front of him was indeed, Sherlock Fucking Holmes. The sound that escaped John's mouth was not human. His arms shot out from his body and he pulled Sherlock into him.

"You bloody wanker arsehole," John half sobbed and laughed as he buried his head in the coat that Sherlock was wearing.

Sherlock is stiff for a moment before he accepts John's embrace, "I'm so sorry, John. I really am." Sherlock's own arms raise and move to wrap around John and pull him closer, "I never wanted to be gone that long, never. But I'm back, for good, I promise."

There are so many emotions that are clashing inside of John at the moment. He pulls back from Sherlock so that he can look up into the face that he has missed for so long. He doesn't believe that this is really happening, and frankly, right now, he doesn't even care if it's a dream. He grins and raises an arm and rubs it over his face, "If you're lying to me Sherlock..if you do this to me again..I will come after you and I will kill you myself!" John chuckles quietly, "I was so alone before you and then after you and...there were times when I didn't think I could handle the loneliness Sherlock..."

Sherlock himself is actually overcome with emotions. He had spent three years away from his blogger, his best and only friend. He'd watched the doctor suffer from the loss, but he couldn't come back, not then. He had to look up for a moment. These feelings were strong now that John was warm and in his arms. He blinked a few times before looking back down at John, "I'm not lying to you, never again. You're not the only one who suffered, John. Those three years were just as hard for me, and I don't intend on being away like that ever again. It's all over; Moriarty's conspiracy, all the traces he left behind are gone for good, and I'm home. I'm never leaving. I'd hate to have to be at the mercy of Captain John Watson..." Sherlock grins and a small chuckle bubbles out of him.

John can't help but grin up at Sherlock. To have him back again truly is a miracle, but then, his face falls grim as a thought strikes him. He frowns, "What if there's another Moriarty in the future then Sherlock, what then? You attract all the crazies, so why not another one after you've come back?" John's voice is full of trepidation and he reaches out and unconsciously takes Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock gives John's hand a reassuring squeeze. He smiles down at him, "There's no one quite like Moriarty. I highly doubt there will ever be anyone quite as cunning, devious, and, honestly, clever as him. He outsmarted me once, and it shall never happen again. I know what I'm up against now, should anyone like him ever turn up for me. And besides, I've got my blogger." A cheeky grin lights across Sherlock's face, "Had I had you around after my 'death', things would have gone much quicker."

"You cheeky bastard, you always find ways to flip things around so it goes in your favor. I suppose I should be more than a bit pissed off at you, but honestly...all that's on my mind right now is getting you upstairs and in our flat so that we can have a more private discussion." John shoots a pointed look to Mrs. Hudson's door where the noises from before are now gone.

"Ah, yes. Three years is a rather long time, isn't it?" Sherlock glances towards Mrs. Hudson's door and then back at John and raises his brows, "A private discussion is high on my list of priorities. Perhaps even at the top..." Sherlock trails and he tries to keep a suggestive smirk hidden, but somehow it just doesn't quite work. He and John had been separated by three years, now they couldn't afford to waste one more second.

John just chuckles lightly and shakes his head; of course Sherlock would treat his own homecoming like it was an everyday occurrence, "Three years is a bloody long time...how about we give them something to really talk about?" John matched the smirk Sherlock fought to hide, he reached up and grabbed the lapels of Sherlock's coat and pulled him down, "Welcome home you bloody wanker," he sighed and crushed his lips against Sherlock's, something he'd been fighting for years since first meeting the detective.

Sherlock grasps John's forearms and hungrily responds to the kiss, "I missed you, John..." he whispers, his lips slide along John's before reclaiming them again, "I missed you so much."

John's arms scrabbled along Sherlock's back finding ways to hold the detective to possibly pull him closer. He needs this, needs to feel the delicious weight of the lanky man against his own, "Not half as much as I missed you," he sighs and lets his lips leave Sherlock's. He drops quick little kisses over the detective's face; John is in the process of tasting the detective's neck when something that sounds strangely like a clap comes from behind Mrs. Hudson's door. "I think it's time we got upstairs and...'talked' about you being gone," John chuckles and nips at Sherlock's neck.

"If I had known that the last time we 'talked' would be the last in three years, I would have 'talked' with you much longer," the detective says in a low purr and tugs at John's sleeves and leads them up the stairs, "And now, we have quite a lot to 'talk' about," Sherlock purrs and begins to kiss along the doctor's jaw line.

John moans as he stumbles up the stairs, "God Sherlock, I've wanted to 'talk' to you for quite a long time I just…" John trails his hands up to Sherlock's head and weaves his fingers in Sherlock's curls and pulls his head up and kisses him hard. Their tongues twine and move over one another fighting for dominance, John is the first to lean back and turns them to push Sherlock against their door, "You were once married to your work...what about now?" John smirks and his hands go to the detective's hips and he pulls him roughly against his body.

"I don't think work will mind too much," Sherlock rumbles and dips his head and places his lips on John's collarbone. He nips and sucks against the skin, "You have far," Sherlock kisses John's neck, "too many," Sherlock's lips nibble under John's jaw, "layers on." Sherlock growls low in his throat and pulls John in for a fierce kiss before pulling back a little, an animalistic glint in his eyes, "And that simply won't do." Sherlock smirks and his hands gently glide along John's sides and finally rest on the doctor's thighs.

John's body shivers and a moan escapes his throat, "God Sherlock...if I would have known just what you were capable of..." he trails there and pulls Sherlock's lower lip into his own mouth to suck on it and gently glide his teeth along it and reaches behind Sherlock and pushes their door open. He grins and shoves Sherlock inside and follows, "I would have told you to screw work and never leave the flat," John growls and removes his jumper, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's as he brings his hands up to immediately being unbuttoning Sherlock's always too tight shirt and kisses each inch of exposed pale skin.

Sherlock takes the hint and his own hands begin to fumble with unbuckling the doctor's belt. Sherlock shivers at the attention John is giving to his flesh, "I'm quite capable of more than you think," a devious chuckle rumbles from Sherlock's chest, "I'm not as naive to sex as everyone thinks..." the detective trails there as he shrugs his shirt off his shoulders and pulls John back in for a kiss. He claims the doctor's lips and runs his tongue along his bottom lip.

John eagerly opens his mouth to accept Sherlock's tongue and moans at the contact, his knees nearly becoming water, "Good, then we won't have to waste time fumbling about," John says with a grin and begins to push Sherlock towards his room and unbuckles Sherlock's belt and pulls it from the loops and tosses it onto the floor, "Bed Sherlock, your room is closest," John sighs as his hands unbutton and unzip Sherlock's pants and pushes his hand into them, "God...I am going to make you think twice of ever leaving me again," the doctor whispers and he rubs his palm against Sherlock's erection.

Sherlock's head tips back and his long white neck is exposed as a moan escapes him, "After this, I don't think I'll even want to leave the bedroom," he sighs before his eyes settle again on John and his skilled fingers divulge John of his belt. Sherlock tosses it somewhere in the living room and a hungry look is in his eyes as he unbuttons and unzips John's trousers, "Forget the cases and the press, and all of it. I just want this; I want you," Sherlock growls and his lips find John's and his tongue explores the wet hot cavern as his hand lowers John's pants without making them lose contact.

John's lips turn up in the kiss and he forces Sherlock back against the bed, the kiss breaks, "Good, because I bloody well want you too Sherlock, so much." John's hands ease along the detective's slight frame and to his hips where he begins to slide the jeans down lean legs. As John is removing Sherlock's jeans he is also forcing the detective back onto the bed. Soon John has removed Sherlock's trousers completely and the detective is left only in his shorts, John's fingers tease the skin just above the waistband, "I only ever dreamed of this Sherlock." John breaths and forces Sherlock to lie back on the bed. John situates himself over the detective and lowers his lips to the pale skin. He kisses, sucks, and nips a trail from Sherlock's jaw to his neck and finally to suckle at his collarbone while his hands slide Sherlock's shorts down to free his erection.

Sherlock grips the hem of John's undershirt and pulls it off of the doctor. He shivers slightly at the lost contact of John's lips, "I don't know how I made it three years without this, John. Without you or us." Sherlock murmurs and his arms wrap around John's waist and he pulls the man closer to him, he needs to feel all of John all over him. Sherlock lowers his head and connects his lips to John's in a slow and sensual kiss. Sherlock gently runs his fingernails over the doctor's bare back, Sherlock pulls back some with a grin, "I guess this means all the papers are right, you know. We're far from 'strictly platonic'. Everyone can stop wondering. I don't care what they say or think. I just need you, like this," Sherlock whispers and slips his hands into John's shorts, teasing around his erection, ghosting over his skin.

John groans and buries his head in Sherlock's neck. His hips jerk and he slides his erection against Sherlock's hand. His arm quivers as it holds him up over Sherlock. He teases the skin on Sherlock's shoulder with his lips, and gently wraps his fingers around Sherlock's erection and uses his thumb to tease the very tip of him. "You're mine Sherlock, now and forever and like you said, people do little more than talk but now…" John tails there and kisses Sherlock's lips desperately and slides his tongue along the wet, hot cavern and moans into him, "now they will know just who you belong to." John flashes a quick grin before placing his lips on the base of Sherlock's neck and shoulder and sucks the skin between his teeth and nips it, sure to leave a love-bite and trails down to Sherlock's chest and places his lips over one of his nipples and gently teases it with his tongue as he settles on his knees between Sherlock's legs. The arm that was holding John above Sherlock smoothes over Sherlock's neck and down to tease the other nipple, rolling it between his index finger and thumb causing it to harden against his palm.

"I love it when you take charge," Sherlock moans softly and grips John's hips. He bucks into his hand, desperate for more, "I'm yours, John. Completely yours, now and forever," Sherlock reaches for John then and pulls him back up against his chest, he turns his head so that his lips are right next to the doctor's ear, "You...OWN...me..." he whispers and then gently nips at John's earlobe, smiling and moving one hand to the nape of his neck. He then kisses a trail down to John's shoulder, where he rests his head, breathing against the skin.

John smirks and lowers himself along Sherlock's chest. He wants to taste his skin again. John kisses along Sherlock's neck and down his collarbone before finally placing his lips around a nipple. He grins and scraps his teeth along Sherlock's nipple. After a moment John uses his tongue to make a trail to the other nipple and replaces his fingers with his lips and teeth. He grinds his hips down to brush his and Sherlock's erections against each other. "Now and forever Sherlock," John whispers against his chest and kisses a trail down Sherlock's chest, flicking his tongue out to taste the sweat slicked skin. John moans and dips his tongue into Sherlock's navel before scooting back. He looks up at Sherlock and flashes him a quick grin before bending and wrapping his lips around Sherlock's cock and swirling his tongue around the sensitive head.

"Oh God...John..." Sherlock moans loudly and moves his hands to grab firmly but gently at John's hair. He tips his head back slowly, reveling in the feel of John's lips around him, doing that wonderful thing with his tongue. "God, John... Have you always been this," he gasps, "good... or have I just forgotten?" Sherlock moans, and rocks slightly into John's mouth, but not far enough to gag him. "All that time away from you was so... boring." He bites his lip as his eyes flutter shut, and his hands rake through John's hair.

John moans around him and keeps his lips wrapped firmly on Sherlock's shaft while his tongue swirls and traces the ridges and veins that twitch beneath the skin of Sherlock's cock. He slides one hand slowly and sensually up Sherlock's chest and gently tweaks one of his nipples. He slowly drags his head up from Sherlock's cock and sucks on the head before completely disengaging and smirking up at Sherlock. "I'm showing you what you've been missing in your time away...making it so you'll never, ever do it again no matter what." John leans down and kisses along the underside of Sherlock's cock and flicks his tongue against the base of him and traces it down and along his balls while his other hand is pinching and rolling his nipples between his index finger and thumb. John raises his head again. "Do you have any lube in here?"

Sherlock groans as he lifts his head to look at John. His cock gives a happy twitch as he sees John's lips glistening. His head drops back onto his pillow. He lifts a hand and points at his dresser, "Third drawer under the pants," he huffs and then makes a disappointed noise when John gets off the bed. Sherlock turns his head and watches John. He grins and licks his lips as he admires his lovers arse.

John finds the lube easy enough and turns. He sees Sherlock's look and matches it. He lets his eyes rake over the long, skinny form. John's tongue darts from his lips and he walks back to the bed. He climbs on and leans over Sherlock. He lowers his lips to Sherlock's again, having to taste the detective again. He's positive that he will never grow tired of this taste. John scoots back down to between Sherlock's legs. He sets the bottle on the bed and then gently grips Sherlock's thighs. He spreads the detective's legs and then looks up, "Hand me a pillow," he reaches for it and then lifts Sherlock's hips and places it beneath him.

Sherlock shivers as he watches John. He grins slightly, the doctor has a serious expression on his face all of a sudden and his cock bounces each time he moves. Sherlock groans and lets his head fall back, "John, I need you now," he growls and his tongue licks across his lips.

John looks up and smirks, "You don't make the demands tonight Sherlock," John states and picks up the bottle of lube. He flips the cap open and squeezes a good amount into his hands. He rubs his palms together to warm the cool liquid. He scoots a bit closer to Sherlock and gently takes the man's erection into his right palm. He slicks his hand over Sherlock's erection and twists his fingers around the shaft while his left hand gently grasps his balls.

Sherlock arches his back off of the bed as the sensations of John's hands on him shivers along his spine and to the base of his neck. His toes curl into the sheets and his muscles begin to quiver. His hands fist in the sheets and he pulls at them to steady himself, "Please John, I need you," he groans and bucks his hips into the older man's skilled touch.

John grins and scrapes his thumb across the head of Sherlock's cock and also along his balls. He gently pulls on the sac and traces an index finger between them and finally along the line to Sherlock's opening. John swirls his left index finger around the quivering hole. He looks up at Sherlock and thrusts his finger in.

Sherlock gasps and his hips rock back from the sensation of the sudden penetration. His feet plant even more firmly against the mattress as he lifts his body from it, "Jesus!" he moans and his body settles again.

John chuckles, "You're so bloody tight," he groans and adds a second finger into Sherlock. His right hand tightens a little on the detective's cock as he curls his fingers and pushes them into Sherlock and brushes them across the small bundle of nerves.

"Ah Christ," Sherlock's head snaps to the side as he stifles a moan in his pillow. He starts to make keening noises and his hips urge John to take him.

John's cock gives a happy twitch at the noises spilling from Sherlock's lips. He adds a third finger and pushes them in and begins to scissor Sherlock's tight hole in preparation of his cock.

Sherlock looks up, "Please John, I need you now," Sherlock gasps and slams his hips down on John's fingers and whimpers.

John grins; he pulls his fingers from Sherlock and raises himself onto his knees. He lets go of Sherlock's cock and grasps his own. He moves forward and lifts Sherlock's left leg and puts it over his shoulder. Sherlock raises his right leg and wraps it around John and pulls him close. John grins and slicks his hand over his cock to coat it with lube; he then leans his hips forward and presses his cock against Sherlock. John's eyes flutter shut and he slowly inches himself into the writhing detective beneath him.

"Oh God Sherlock, you feel so good," he groans as his cock fills Sherlock's hole.

Sherlock lets out a breath and squeezes his eyes shut. He can feel John inside of him, "Move John, please, claim me already," he hisses and his fingers curl in the sheets of his bed.

John moans as he slowly draws his cock out of Sherlock and then rams it back in. His arm around Sherlock's leg tightens as his body begins to set a fast and hard pace. He groans and lets go of Sherlock's leg. He reaches forward and gently takes the man's twitching cock into his grasp again. He smoothes his thumb across the top of it and wipes the precum around the head. Sherlock whimpers and his hips buck at the contact. His breath hitches and sweat rolls down his torso. John groans and licks his lips.

"You feel so fucking good," John sighs and slams his hips into Sherlock for emphasis. He falls forward and grips Sherlock's hips and pulls him down and surges up to meet him. Their skin makes a wet noise as it slaps against each other. Sherlock whimpers and looks up at John. John grins and leans up and captures Sherlock's lips in a heated kiss. Sherlock moans into John's mouth and arches his back so that his cock is pressed between their bodies. John and Sherlock's tongues twirl around each other and their teeth gently nibble at bruised and swollen lips. John breaks away first and buries his head into Sherlock's shoulder, "Fuck Sherlock," he groans and kisses his shoulder.

Sherlock sucks in a breath and snakes a hand between their bodies. He needs more friction. He wraps his long fingers around himself as his hips buck in time with John's hard thrusts. He turns his head and buries his lips in John's hair and squeezes his eyes shut. John's thrusts are starting to come quicker and harder. "Come on John, harder," he hisses against the man's temple.

John makes a noise and his teeth nip at Sherlock's shoulder as his hips raise and slam down with a loud smack. John slides his hands up Sherlock's sides and plants them on either side of the detective's head. John lifts himself over the detective and his hips start to make erratic thrusts. He feels the heat pooling in his gut and tightening his balls. His fingers curl in the sheets and his head hangs as his back arches. Sherlock's muscles tighten and prepare for his release. It takes some effort, but Sherlock opens his eyes and looks up at John. John blinks down at him and then his mouth falls open in a silent scream of pleasure and he drives his hips down and his cock deep into Sherlock and his seed his shot off within the detective.

Sherlock arches himself off the bed. He can feel John's cum filling him. His hand is a blur on his own cock and it soon stills and squeezes tight. He makes an incoherent noise and his eyes roll to the back of his head and his hips buck him into his own hand. John watches him with rapt attention; he's never seen anything so beautiful before. When Sherlock settles down, John immediately lowers himself to claim Sherlock's lips. He wants to know what the man tastes like after sex. John's tongue traces along Sherlock's teeth and against the top of his mouth. Sherlock moans into his mouth and his whole body still quivers. Finally John pulls back and with a deep breath he pushes himself to the side and he lands on his beck next to Sherlock.

Sherlock's breaths are deep and fast. His chest heaves as he comes down from his orgasm. He grins and his head falls to the side to look at John, "That was…amazing John," Sherlock huffs and raises a hand and settles it on John's chest, he can feel the racing heartbeat beneath the ribcage.

John's grins and lifts his hand and settles it on Sherlock's, "Don't you ever fucking leave me again Sherlock," John pants and wiggles closer and presses his lips to Sherlock's forehead.

Sherlock closes his eyes at the sensation, he shakes his head, his breaths still coming in pants, "Never John, I'm never leaving you again," he whispers and his fingers twine with John's and he gives the doctor's hand a firm squeeze.

A/N: So, what did we think? Please review!