EPILOGUE: Together

The months went by, and then years started slipping past. Sherlock grew up and adjusted well to his new life and job; he was happy with John, and with Torchwood. They eventually moved out of Ianto's old flat, buying their own. It was different for a while without him, the incident had left everybody sufficiently shell-shocked, and for a while it was hard, but time heals all wounds. They still missed him, but slowly, the pain began to fade and they all started to move on.

Somehow, and John had no idea how they had managed it, he and Sherlock made it to their thirties, very old hands at Torchwood. Jack was still there (they couldn't imagine the immortal ever doing a different job), but Gwen and Rhys had moved on, wanting to settle down. The gang still visited the happy couple from time to time, practically uncles to the twins.

Sherlock was glad to see Jack seemed to be slowly returning to normal, and now he seemed happy...although some days he could tell he was upset, staring at the tie that had been left hanging in the bunker as a memorial to the man and lover he'd lost.

The genius still felt exactly the same for John as always, madly in love with him. He knew, no matter what happened, that his feelings toward the man who had healed and fixed and loved him would never change.

oOoOo

On the fourteenth anniversary of their joining the institution, John took Sherlock out for dinner; they knew Cardiff well now and the restaurant came highly recommended, but they would never know that they were at the same restaurant Jack had taken Ianto to after Sherlock's night at the hub all those years ago. Sherlock sat at the table, smiling at John. "Fourteen years," he said, holding up his class. "Or twenty-three depending on which one we're celebrating."

John blushed. "Both," he smiled, toasting with Sherlock and drinking deeply, working up the courage for what he was about to do, watching as the love of his life took a drink from his glass, smiling at John over the rim of it.

Taking a deep breath, the blonde reached over and took the younger man's hand in his, marveling at how they had both changed. Sherlock had stayed lanky but had put on some wiry muscle. He was still shorter and stockier but stronger and could easily carry Sherlock when needed. "I have something I want to ask you."

"Yes, John?" John was so different from the little boy he first met, and yet he was still John, completely and unchangeably John.

Breathing deep, John looked into those perfect blue eyes. "I've known you since I was seven-years-old, and I've loved you since I was thirteen. It took me three years to tell you, and I've been the happiest man alive ever since." He got up and knelt down on his good knee (the other had been injured a year before). He stared up at the man Sherlock had grown into, and pulled a box out of his jacket pocket. "Sherlock Holmes," he opened the box, "Will you marry me?"

Sherlock sucked in a breath, covering his mouth with one hand. The ring was simple, a golden band with the word 'Elemental' engraved on it; it was beautiful. He nodded slowly. "Yes," he choked out. "Oh god, of course, yes."

John beamed, slipping the ring onto Sherlock's finger as the man dragged him up for a deep kiss. Sherlock had said yes, said yes to him! Sherlock kissed John with everything he had in him, wrapping his arms around his neck. He could tell they were being watched, but it didn't matter one bit. He was so happy, tears falling down his cheeks silently.

"Are you all right?" John whispered when he broke for air, smoothing a few unruly curls out of his lover's eyes.

"I'm perfect," Sherlock told him. "Absolutely perfect."

"Good." John smiled and pulled him back in for another kiss, soon straddling the man on the seat, the same booth that Jack and Ianto had sat at years before. Sherlock put his hands on John's hips, forgetting the world around him as John kissed him. They would have stayed like that for a long time had John not heard a cough behind him and realized the waiter was standing there, glaring very disapprovingly. "Would you like your check, sir?"

Sherlock chuckled, pressing his forehead to John's, a show of affection that he used regularly. "Leave it there," he murmured, pointing to the table; the waiter did, walking away in a manner that oozed displeasure.

John giggled softly. "I feel like a teenager again. Remember when Gwen walked in on us?"

Sherlock laughed. "Oh god don't remind me," he groaned. "You always make me feel like a teenager."

"Good, then we'll never truly grow old."

"Of course not, Jawn," he chuckled. He had taken to using the slightly different pronunciation as a sort of pet name for John.

The shorter man hummed softly. "What do you say we get out of here?"

"Let's go."

John paid for dinner and took Sherlock back to their flat, beaming the whole way. He laced his finger's with Sherlock's as they walked, leaning into the man from time to time. Sherlock smiled, holding John's hand tight.

They made it back to their flat without incident, and Sherlock unlocked the door, letting them in. John shut it behind them, locking it and dropping his keys in the dish by the door, an elegant solution to avoid running them through the laundry. He turned to face his fiancé, grinning like an idiot. Sherlock smiled, wrapping his arms around John's neck, the ring pressing against the base of his neck. "I love you."

John beamed, one hand coming up to stroke the ring on Sherlock's finger. "I've always loved you," he whispered, pressing their foreheads together

"You're perfect." Sherlock pressed his lips to John's tenderly, smiling against his mouth.

"No, I'm kissing perfection," John murmured, pulling Sherlock closer and properly snogging him.

Sherlock kissed his fiancé passionately, savoring the familiar tastes and smells, the soft blonde hair, the firm and stocky frame of his lover's body. Everything about John was wonderful, and now Sherlock would be his forever...not that he hadn't already been. John couldn't get close enough, threading his fingers in the man's hair and pulling him tighter to him, breathing sharply through his nose when he realized he was out of air. Sherlock pressed himself against John, feeling the other man's warmth against his chest.

"Bed."

"After you."

John tugged his arm, pulling him to their room, shutting the door, and shoving Sherlock against it, kissing his mouth and neck, everything he could reach with Sherlock's coat and scarf on. Sherlock breathed out a moan as John's lips ravaged his throat; John knew full well that drove him crazy. The shorter man tugged off the scarf, freeing more of the alabaster skin as he worked it with his mouth, Sherlock's moan making his cock twitch.

The younger man felt himself growing harder, his hands knotting in the fabric of John's jumper and pulling him closer. The blonde grinned, nipping at Sherlock's neck before pulling away just enough to see the man's eyes: black with a ring of blue as the pupils blew. "What do you want to do tonight?" he teased.

"Would you like to change things up a bit?"

John raised an eyebrow. "Keep talking."

"Maybe I could try, you know, topping tonight?" Sherlock asked sheepishly.

John's eyes widened for a moment, and then he kissed the man so hard the room spun. "Yes," he breathed. God knows Sherlock would know how by now; he'd probably be bloody fantastic at it. Sherlock grinned, gently urging John towards the bed, laying him down.

John lay with Sherlock on top of him, already breathing heavily and growing hard with anticipation. The taller man leaned down and kissed John, tugging the jumper off before slowly working at the buttons on the nice shirt he had worn to dinner. The doctor kissed back, arching up as the man laid his chest bare. Sherlock kissed the revealed skin gently, his lips cold against the warmth John always seemed to radiate. He shrugged his own coat off, tossing it to the floor.

John reached up to help with his shirt, fingers popping the buttons on his favorite purple shirt and hands stroking the pale chest of his lover. Sherlock shuddered, leaning in to the touch as he reached his hands between them to unbutton John's trousers. The older man whimpered, lifting his arse so Sherlock could slide the clothes off as he pushed Sherlock's shirt off his shoulders. Both jeans and shirt were dropped into a heap on the floor.

John took Sherlock's face in his hands, kissing him deeply and passionately as the younger man ground his hips down, drawing a moan from his lover; both men ached for more friction, Sherlock grinned, grinding against John's hips again to get another moan out of him, to tease him. John moaned even louder. "I want-I need you."

Sherlock nodded, pulling back to strip himself of the rest of his clothing. John watched as Sherlock revealed the rest of his pale skin and lithe limbs; he still, after all these years, could not figure out how he'd gotten this lucky. Sherlock leaned down, removing John boxers quickly. "I love you," he whispered, leaning over to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside table.

"I love you too," John whispered back, spreading his legs a bit to make it easier for Sherlock to reach.

Sherlock kissed John, slicking the man up and slowly pushing a finger inside him. "Let me know if you want to stop."

John gasped at the sensation, Sherlock's fingers were cold. "D-don't stop," he breathed; he nodded, carefully working in a second finger, stretching him slowly.

John squeezed his eyes shut, gasping as those long fingers worked him open, the bizarre part of the sensation soon changing into something else; it felt so good, so right. Sherlock worked in the same scissoring motion John had used on him a lot, watching the man's face to see how he reacted.

John was keening and whimpering, alternating between staring Sherlock in the eye and letting his eyes roll back in pleasure. Sherlock loved the expressions on John's face, and he slipped in a third and final finger, stretching him even more to make sure he would be fine. John groaned. God, how did Sherlock stand taking this every time;he didn't think he'd last long at this rate. "I'm-ready-" he gasped, not wanting to wait another second.

Sherlock nodded, retracting his fingers and slicking himself up, slowly pushing himself down into John, groaning at the sensation. John very nearly came, unable to make a sound for the feeling, breath stuck in his throat. Sherlock pushed all the way in before slowly rocking his hips and settling in his lover. "Oh god John," he moaned, loud and breathy.

"Oh fuck, oh Christ, Sherlock," John whined, astounded that they had never done this before. Sherlock continued, thrusting into John. He bit his lip, trying to concentrate on something as he shifted his angle slightly.

John cried out, back arching, thrusting his hips harder into Sherlock. "Jesus," he gasped as Sherlock hit his prostate.

Sherlock moaned, swearing loudly. That was new; John's eyes flew open, meeting Sherlock's stunned expression, reacting to both John's own reaction and his curse. "Oh god, harder, Sherlock. Show me we're alive."

Sherlock heard him use the words he had so many years ago. He smiled, panting as he drove himself into John harder. The blonde ground up when he could, but he mostly just let Sherlock take him, all of his senses overloading; he reached down and started stroking himself, aching for friction so badly he could barely stand it.

Sherlock couldn't last much longer. John was tight and warm around him and it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. The doctor stroked faster, timing it with Sherlock's thrusts until he came, screaming the man's name as he clenched around him and spilling all over his hand. When John tightened around him, the genius lost it, his hips bucking hard as he climaxed, shouting John's name until collapsing on his chest.

It took John a full minute to get his breath back, holding a sweaty Sherlock to his chest. "Wow," he finally breathed, kissing the damp curls on the taller man's head. "You're bloody amazing."

Sherlock pressed his lips to John's damp chest gently. "You are brilliant," he whispered back, smiling at him. John chuckled, wincing slightly as he reached for their towel.

"You okay?" Sherlock asked, moving over so he wasn't laying right on top of John.

"Slightly sore, not used to that," he replied, still grinning as he cleaned off his hand and chest.

"Yeah... Sorry." He didn't want John to be uncomfortable; he had been there before.

"You know something though? I can't wait to do it again."

Sherlock grinned, cleaning John off gently. "I can't wait either. That was...enlightening."

John nodded. "You're the most amazing anything I've ever known, Sherlock...and I get to marry you."

"I think I'm the lucky one here."

"No, I am."

"Well, agree to disagree." He cleaned himself off quickly before wrapping his arms around John. The older man pulled him close, playing with his lover's hair. "Agreed," he grinned, snuggling closer to his future husband and pulling the blankets up

Sherlock kissed John's forehead gently. "Good night."

"I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you too, John."

And there it is! Nice and fluffy and wrapped up with a neat little bow. It's thrilling to finally finish, and it's been a really fun experience to write and edit. Thank you for reading, and I encourage you to check out my other works, both here and on AO3. My penname is the same both places.