Author's Note:

Part five in the Johnlock series. I am going to assume you have already read the other ones if you are reading this one.

Flashing lights. That was odd. So odd. And the panicked look from Sherlock twisted his gut. Then black. Smoke. Screaming, crying and twisted metal. Shit. Shit. Nightmare. John quickly opened his eyes, panting and struggling for breath before he realized it wasn't a nightmare. Nothing but rocks, a makeshift shelter above his head and the sound of waves. Right.

Plane crash. Island. He glanced around the small camp of people who had survived the crash. Another young couple curled up to their right, a young business woman just south of them, and a little boy, no older than five, sleeping as close to Sherlock as he could manage without leaving the small shelter John had made for him. This was all real. He sighed and fell back against the ground with a shaky sob, turning to press his face into his husband's back.

Flickering lights. Smoke. Screaming. Someone was screaming for his help. A woman with her son. She was crushed and won't be able to get out in time. She was begging him to take her son. He was about to ask his husband for help but he had already lost his partner in the fray of confusion and panic. The child fought, screamed, and bit. The boy didn't want to leave his mother. The swim to shore was hard work, even though the boy had worn himself out and stopped thrashing. He wasn't a strong swimmer but he got them there safely. Everything else was hazy, the boy clinging to him constantly and tightly. Shaking. Someone was shaking him. Sherlock woke up slowly. "John?" His eyes came into focus and it is the little boy.

"Mister. Hungry," the little boy whined.

That was a voice. John cleared his throat as quietly as he could manage, peeking over his husband's torso to study the boy. "I will get it," he whispered to Sherlock, placing a soft kiss between his partner's shoulder blades and patting his hip gently. "C'mon." He sat up slowly. Food was low, a mainly fish diet when they managed to get any, but he knew they had some and he could give up his breakfast portion for the boy. "I will get you some of the fish from dinner, is that all right mate?" He was bleary eyed and struggling to get sleep out of his system.

The boy turned and stared blankly at John, clearly only half listening. He turned his attention back to Sherlock and poked him. "Mister, I'm hungry."

Apparently the child had become Sherlock's responsibility the moment he saved the boy. He groaned and sat up slowly. "All right, all right. What's your name? And quit calling me 'mister.' Sherlock is fine."

The boy shifted from foot to foot nervously. "That's a stupid name," he muttered and kicked at the ground.

Damn it. John glared at the boy for a moment. Sherlock needed to rest and this boy was ruining it. "Right. Sherlock needs to sleep, why don't I help you?" He was, after all, in charge of food and hunting. If the boy wanted food off schedule then it was his job. Especially because he was willing to give up his breakfast. Sherlock needed to eat, he could survive until lunch. "Just...stay here," he grumbled as he stood up and headed through a few trees toward their food hold.

The boy stuck out his tongue at John as soon as his he left.

"Hey. None of that. You will apologize when he gets back or you won't eat." Sherlock felt like shit. He hadn't realized it, but he had been unconscious for two days. John appeared to be in charge. No surprise there. He had been a Captain in the military for a reason.

"But he is mean!" The boy pouted and crossed his arms.

Sherlock tried not to smirk. "You never did tell me your name."

"Thomas Curtis Fitzgerald." The boy stood proud, his chest puffed out as if it was the most important name ever.

John returned a few minutes later with a small slice of fish, handing it to the boy with a forced smile. After a few moments he dropped to his knees in front of Sherlock. "How are you?" He asked as he looked his husband over. Nothing too bad, just exhausted. John had kept watch over Sherlock day and night, only going out of view if he knew somebody else would be near. "Saved some of your clothes," he muttered. He had forgone anything to hold him down, clad in only a pair of jean shorts that he ad torn himself. "Your jacket, too. It's our blanket." He dropped his head and sighed before looking back over to the boy. "That is all you get until breakfast," he stated sternly.

Sherlock reached over and grabbed the fish before the boy could take a bite. "What did I tell you?"

"But! That isn't fair!" Thomas was pouting again.

"You must not be very hungry then." Sherlock raised his eyebrows, fighting a smirk. God, he was going to make terrible parent. He couldn't keep a stern face when so amused.

The boy let out long suffering sigh. "Fine. I'm sorry. There. Eat now?"

"What are you sorry for?" Sherlock wasn't going to relinquish the food so easily.

"Sorry for sticking my tongue out at you when you wasn't lookin'." Thomas looked at John briefly before taking the food offered greedily and gobbled it quickly.

Sherlock shook his head and finally answered his husband's question. "I am fine. How are provisions? Has anyone found the wreckage site? Or tried diving to the cargo bay of the plane?"

John smiled a bit at the exchange between Sherlock and the boy before looking at his husband. "I went out twice but it is too deep to get to. I got some of your stuff. Coat, scarf, a couple sets of clothes." He nodded and curled his knees to his chest. Precautions he hadn't taken. He had a single set of clothes and his black jacket. He had been more focused on grabbing anything he could for his husband. It took him a moment but he tore his eyes from Sherlock to glance at the small boy, eyes narrowed despite the darkness. He was already tan, muscles a bit more defined after a few days of hunting and building shelters. "Kelly, the lad over there with her new husband, Kevin." He glanced at them. "She is pregnant. I have been giving her most of my portions and so has he." His eyes moved to the business woman. "And that is Maria. She has a family back home. Four kids." He smiled a bit before looking at his husband. "And apparently we have got him," he said softly.

Sherlock took a moment to look over the group John had pointed out. "Thought pregnant woman weren't supposed to fly," he murmured more to himself than anyone else. His gaze shifted to Thomas, who had run down to the shore to chase birds. "Lucky us, I guess. He is very…hmmm…rude. Apparently I have a penchant for picking up strays." He looked up to his husband with a small smirk. "Has anyone gone to look for things that might have washed up on shore? If the wind patterns have been the same since crashing, they should all have washed up in more than less one spot. I would say a mile, maybe two miles from us. As far as which direction, my best guess would be down the eastern strip of the beach."

"Yes. Not much. Scraps of clothing. Did find this, this morning." John turned and lifted his jacket up, lifting up his dog tags and Sherlock's wedding ring. "Must have lost them in the wreck." He grinned as he dropped them over his husband's head and then glanced back at the little boy. "She is only two months along so really no harm done," he said back to his husband's first comment. "What is his name, then? I mean, his Mum died. He told me a bit about himself but not his name." He glanced up at the sky. Almost morning which meant work for the day would start. Check the traps for fish with Kevin. Find birds and try to kill them. Cook. Start a fire. Continue to build onto the shelters. He groaned just thinking about it.

That was unfortunate. Sherlock had thought more would have washed ashore than just that. At least he still had John's dog tags and his wedding band. "Thomas Curtis Fitzgerald and he seemed very proud of that name. Probably from a family with money, which makes sense since he was traveling on a small jet for rich people." He shrugged a bit and finally stood. He ignored the spell of dizziness and the overall weakness he felt in his knees. Things needed to be done and he didn't want to just sit around doing nothing. He leaned against the shelter, closing his eyes. "How long was I out?"

John stood up instantly. "Two days. Sit back down." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and motioned back toward their small shelter. "You have got a day to rest. I will feed you. I've been saving some of my food and clean water." He stood on his toes and gently met his husband's lips. Damn, he had missed that. Missed a lot of things. "You are weak. We really can't afford for you to push yourself right now, all right? Everybody needs to be healthy. When you are you can help us with the shelters. I figure your massive brain will be able to give us some pointers." He smiled the best he could. "Now sit."

Sherlock sighed but did as John asked. His husband was right, even if he didn't like. "Make the boy help then. I am sure he can useful for something other than complaining and chasing birds." He looked down the shore at Thomas. "Hey, Tommy!" Kids liked nicknames didn't they? "Get up here and help!"

Thomas looked up with a scowl. "Hate that name! Dun call me that!" He huffed out a puff an air indignantly but came running like asked.

John narrowed his eyes a moment. Calm. Stay calm. Sherlock didn't know the rules of their camp yet. "Don't yell," he whispered as he moved his coat a bit further and grabbed some fish wrapped in a few leaves. "It is still time to sleep. 'Bout an hour left, I reckon, before we need to do anything. But make sure he doesn't wander off." He handed the fish to his husband with a quick kiss to his cheek, turning to look at Thomas. The kid wouldn't be much help, really. Too small and weak to do much. "Just...don't wander off, yeah?" He looked at the boy with a small smile. "Don't want you to get hurt."

Sherlock arched a brow. Had he done something wrong? Apparently yelling wasn't allowed. How…strange… "When I was his age, I was doing useful things," he muttered more to himself than John.

"I can do things too!" Thomas pouted. "Not an idiot." He ran away again, this time picking up rocks and throwing them into the sea as far and hard as he could.

If there ever was a spitting image of Sherlock at age five, John was fairly sure it was Thomas. He shook his head to focus more on his husband. "It is fine. We are a small group but we manage. Less to feed, all that." He sat down next to Sherlock, an arm wrapping around the middle of his husband's back. "I love you," he whispered softly as he leaned into him. God, he was warm and felt wonderful. Probably because he had more clothes on. "I don't think Mycroft can get us out of this," he whispered softly, his voice breaking a bit.

Sherlock smiled and gave John a quick kiss. "Love you too." He was quiet for a moment. "Well, there was some sort of problem with one of the engines and they were trying to make an emergency landing. Which failed obviously. There are only so many islands that don't have a population in the Mediterranean to check. Knowing Mycroft he won't give up until he checks them all. I figure it is only a matter of time before they find us. Now, how long that will take is a tough estimate. No longer than one month I don't think. So, as long as we can survive that long we will be fine."

A month. That made John's stomach drop. In a month they could all die. Weather, anything. He nodded and handed the fish over to Sherlock. "Eat it. From last night. We all agreed to save a bit of our rations for you. Been a while since you have eaten and I am sure we've got a few more fish in the traps this morning," he whispered. He didn't want to think about the wreck or how they ended up here. He was a soldier in Afghanistan and that was nothing compared to crashing into the water, seeing people die... He cleared his throat and let his eyes shut. It wouldn't do any good to get scared now. People were depending on him. "When you are done there is a small inlet of water just a few meters away where you can bathe. It is a bit less salty so it will do something."

"No worries my Love. We can get through this, just like everything else." Sherlock gave John another kiss. He was a little hungry, so he decided to humor his husband and ate the fish given to him. He did fell a bit better after eating. He stood again, staying steady on his feet this time.

Thomas saw Sherlock stand and ran back over. "Where ya goin'? Can I come? Can I? Please? They never lemme leave camp! Not fair!"

A small smirk formed on Sherlock's lips. "I'm just going to wash up, nothing exciting."

Thomas kicked the dirt and then eyed the fish John had been rolling in leaves.

"Right. Don't eat the fish. Everybody else needs to eat this morning," John said softly but sternly. "Just lay back down and rest for a bit and today you can come hunting, yeah?" He studied Thomas for a moment before standing up and grabbing his husband's hand. He had been dying to be alone with Sherlock, just to kiss him and hold him close. That little brat wasn't going to ruin it. He gave his husband's hand a small tug and they headed inland, a small river coming into view. "Bit deep near the middle, I can barely touch but you will be fine," he said softly before turning and gently meeting his husband's lips. God, he had missed kissing Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled and returned the kiss. He wrapped his arms around John, pulling his husband closer to him. His fingers trailed along his partner's back soothingly. Only something like this could happen to them. Right after their honeymoon nonetheless. No time to worry or think about that now. He was kissing John and that was much more enticing than dwelling on how badly things seemed to go for them all the time.

John slowly pulled away to take a breath, gazing up at his husband. The sun was slowly coming up and the light behind Sherlock made him look like a God. He giggled softly at his thoughts. No need to tell his husband that, he would get a bigger ego. "C'mon, let's get you out of these clothes and wash you up a bit, yeah?" He undid the remaining buttons of Sherlock's shirt and easily rid him of the pants, backing into the river and bringing his husband with him. They couldn't shag, they didn't have anything and it was likely they'd get caught. But damn it he was going to spend some quality time with his husband.

Sherlock smirked. "Anxious to get my clothes off are you my dear doctor?" The smirk got bigger as he followed John into the water. It wasn't too bad temperature-wise. He began kissing his husband again, pressing their bodies together closely. One hand dropped to grope John through the pants, pawing lightly at the outlining of his husband's cock. Of course the first thing he wanted to do when he woke up was shag John. They couldn't. Not without some kind of lubricant, but he could at least give his husband a hand job.

John gasped into his husband's mouth, swallowing hard. "Oh, fuck." He slammed his eyes shut. He hadn't been touched since their honeymoon and given their recent activities two days was quite the wait. God, he needed to get his shorts off. He pulled away from the kiss to glance between them, his hands moving to sloppily pull his shorts off. "Hold on," he muttered, wading out of the water. He couldn't get his clothes wet, they were the only set he had. He yanked down his shorts and boxers before running back into the water, pressing himself against Sherlock with a loud moan. Might as well return the favor, right? He grabbed his husband's cock and gave it a small squeeze.

Sherlock smirked as he watched John and pressed into his husband's hand with a moan. "Oh God yes. Love you," he murmured into John's ear and then immediately began sucking on it. His free hand began scratching lightly at his husband's back, while the other went back to John's penis. He gripped it firmly and began giving it swift strokes. He pressed their bodies as closely together as he could, his hips bucking into his husband with a whimper.

"Love you, too," John replied shakily, taking several deep breaths as he started strokes that kept in time with Sherlock's. This. Being close, this is what he had missed. He'd been scared, too, that Sherlock would never wake up, that they would never be close like this again. Just the thought made his stomach twist and he groaned, pressing his hips roughly into his husband's hand. He didn't want to be quick but they didn't have a choice. The camp would be waking up soon and with their luck that little brat would tell everybody where they went.

Sherlock stopped sucking on John's ear and decided that he needed to be kissing his husband some more. He pressed their lips together, taking a moment to suck on John's tongue before relinquishing it and going to explore the rest of the mouth. He moaned into the kiss, the strokes getting faster in his excitement. God, he really wanted to be inside his husband right now. He was determined to find a way to shag while they were here.

John's kiss was sloppy, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to keep his moans quiet. God, even after two days of sleeping his husband was bloody fantastic. He picked up the pace as Sherlock did, moaning slightly into his husband's mouth with each stroke. Not much longer. He had been inactive, so focused on staying alive and keeping everybody healthy that he'd never stopped to just think about himself. He sucked at Sherlock's tongue with a small whimper.

Sherlock moaned into John's mouth as he came. He used his husband for support, his body going a bit limp. He continued the kiss, breathing loudly through his nose now. The hand scratching down the back, trailed down to John's ass where he gave it a firm and tight squeeze. He couldn't keep his hands to himself right now. He wanted to continue the closeness as long as possible.

John came almost immediately after Sherlock, breathing deeply through his nose before he heard a cough and...damn it. He blushed, pulling away from his husband and turning to see Kevin. Shit, this was...very awkward.

"Sorry, mate," the young man cleared his throat and dropped his head, his shaggy brown hair following a bit. "We've got...fish, y'know? Just wanted to..." He shrugged, blushed as his brown eyes lifted to study Sherlock, and then turned and went back toward the main camp.

"Oh... God," John was still for a moment before he started to laugh, looking up at Sherlock with a large smile. "That was good. Not what I was expecting."

Sherlock smirked proudly at Kevin when their eyes met briefly. He was not in the least bit perturbed at being caught. "Very good. Sorry. I can't seem to keep my hands off of you. You are just so adorable." Maybe if he told John that enough times, his husband would actually come to believe it. It was possible, he supposed. He had changed how John saw the scars on his husband's body. "Could have been worse, the boy could have seen us." He smirked down at John.

"Oi, that boy," John whispered as he gave Sherlock a quick kiss. "Won't listen to anybody, except you, apparently." He smiled a bit. He had missed Sherlock's voice, that little smirk on his lips. Two days had been too much and even on this blasted island in the middle of nowhere Sherlock could brighten his day just a bit. "Not adorable," he added with a playful thrust of his hips, some water splashing around them. "I was so scared when we crashed," his voice was soft now, serious, and a hand moved to run gently down his husband's chest. "I couldn't find you and you beat me to shore and... God, I just collapsed and cried when I found you."

Sherlock smirked again but it turned into a frown as he listened to John. "I'm sorry I worried you. I don't know how we go separated. I heard the woman sitting behind us screaming for help. She begged me to take the boy. I had to pry Thomas off of her. He didn't want to leave and he fought me all the way. He finally had enough sense to calm down when we got into open water, but it was still difficult to swim with us both. I'm still not a very strong swimmer…" He trailed off with a shrug. "I am fine now Love. We both are. No worries." He kissed the top of his husband's head.

Fine now. They were both alive and safe. John smiled and nodded his head. "Yeah, we are," he placed a soft kiss against his husband's chest and managed to pull him a bit closer. "You are alive and safe and...you saved a life," he whispered. Sure, it was the life of a brat, but he'd swam back twice and managed to get Kelly, who wasn't a swimmer at all, and Maria, who was trying to save as many clothes as she could. "The camp is pretty simple," he started. The least he could do was update his husband on the rules they had established. "Kelly and Maria gather fire wood, Kevin and I hunt. I have built all the shelters and Thomas has done a great job of making sure the fire is constantly going. We go to bed with the sun, rise with it. Only way to really tell which day is which." He looked up at Sherlock with a weak smile. "We could use some help, the shelters aren't staying up."

"Architecture and infrastructure aren't really my forte but I will see if I can come up with something. I am sure I can, being perfect and amazing after all." Sherlock smirked at John and led them back to the shore so they could get dressed and start the day. It seemed like everything was on a set time table and he didn't want to disrupt the things his husband had set up. People needed rules and regulations; otherwise there would be panic and chaos. Not good when survival was vital. "You have done well here. I'm proud of you."

John blushed as he slipped his boxers and shorts back on, clearing his throat. "I...what else could I do? They were all scared, crying...I have dealt with it before." He dropped his head and dug his bare foot into the sand. "Did it for you, really, to make sure everything was good when you woke up." A small, lop-sided smile tugged at his lips and he moved forward, grabbing his husband's hand. He hadn't really made himself the leader but the three adults who had been awake had agreed on it one night around the fire while eating. Thomas had stayed quiet. "I am on watch tonight, though. You can sleep. I have got to see if a boat or plane comes by."

Sherlock opted to only put his briefs and trousers on. It would get warmer later in the day and he would probably just take the shirt off later anyway. He threw the shirt over his shoulder, two fingernails hooked under it. "While rescue is important, you should also look for possible dangers here on the island. Wild boars, poisonous snakes, that kind of thing. John, I probably won't sleep again for awhile. So, if you want to sleep you can. Or we can stay awake together and keep each other company."

Company. John nodded slightly and narrowed his eyes. "The island is mainly sand. Rocks, few trees on the south end. We have only really found birds. Caught one the other day and cooked it." He shrugged and laced his fingers with Sherlock's. "Our main worry is food and getting rescued. If you want to keep me company you can. I can't just drop a post like that, not while everybody else has done their own." He started bringing them back to camp, passing a small rocky area where food and leaves were spread out. "That is the food area. Anything we catch or find goes there. If you are hungry you need to ask since we have got rations. I can give you some of mine so don't worry." He nodded and glanced at the rest of the camp as it came into view. Maria and Kelly were down by the shore talking and laughing a bit and Kevin, bless his heart, was standing by his and Kelly's shelter with an enormous blush on his face.

Sherlock was taking in all the different things around him, his mind automatically analyzing things that would be of the most use. He was only half listening to John now, as he began to lose himself in his mind palace, where all kinds of information was stored. He hadn't gone there in a while and it was taking him longer than usual to access the information he wanted. "I probably won't eat or sleep much. The boy can have my rations," he said distractedly. He was looking at the crude shelters than had been built and was working on a way to improve them.

That look was unmistakable and John hadn't seen it in a while. Mind palace. He smiled a bit and squeezes his husband's hand before pulling away slightly. He didn't reply to Sherlock's comment because his husband would have to eat, there was no way around it. Maybe if he fed it to Sherlock? He glanced at Kevin and laughed a bit. "C'mon, mate. Let's go check the traps." He stood on his toes and placed a small kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "Be back soon, Love." And with that headed toward the shore.

Sherlock nodded, John's words barely registering at this point. He was accessing all useful plants found in this particular region. Hunting was good but not reliable. Plants would be a much easier way to find food. One merely had to know what to look for, which he did. "Hey boy. Come on. I'll teach you few things and we will make use out of you yet."

"But I was told I could go hunting if I was good!" Thomas frowned as he realized John had already left.

"Fine, stay here and be bored." Sherlock shrugged and walked away.

"W-wait!" Thomas ran to catch up with Sherlock.