So, I decided to end this story with lots of fluff and smut. I hope you appreciate it.

I'm not completely satisfied with the ending, but it was the best my brain could do.

Enjoy!~

6 weeks later

Sherlock awoke slowly on a Sunday morning, his brain fuzzy with sleep, the warmth of John's warm body next to his. After a moment, he registered the feeling of his hair being stroked. He opened his eyes to find John staring down at him fondly.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" John asked.

"Mmm, maybe," he said huskily. He cleared his throat. "It's fine."

"Kind of feel bad, though. You're gorgeous when you sleep," John said nonchalantly, twirling a curl around his finger.

Sherlock smiled shyly and felt himself flush. "Shut up."

Since they became lovers, John was becoming much more open about doting over Sherlock (in private, of course), but Sherlock still found it a little difficult to do the same, afraid John would laugh mockingly at him. It was an irrational fear, he knew it, but nonetheless it took courage for him to express to John how much he loved him.

"Hello? Get out of that head for a sec, genius."

Sherlock blinked. "Sorry, did you say something?"

John shook his head, but didn't seem annoyed. "Yes, I did." He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's sides and rolled onto his back, taking Sherlock with him so that he was on top of John's chest.

John held Sherlock securely. "Now I've got your attention. Anyway, I was saying that we've got nothing to do today; I'm off work and there's no case," his warm hand slid under Sherlock's T-shirt. "We should stay here. In bed."

Sherlock smirked. "Nothing to do? Oh, I wouldn't say that. I'm a busy person, John. I could always start up a new experiment—" He was cut off with a gasp when John bit his jaw.

"You're so full of shit," John ran his thumb over the spot he'd bitten.

Sunlight coming through the windows was making John's hair look even more golden than usual. John was like sunshine. Sherlock shook the ridiculous thought away. He noticed the stubble that John had yet to shave and he couldn't resist rubbing his cheek against John's.

"And you wonder why I call you a cat," John chuckled.

Sherlock just hummed and kissed John gently. "So, you're suggesting that we lie around all day?"

"Yep. I know that lying around all day isn't your thing, but I think I can persuade you."

"Oh, really?" Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "I'd like to see you try."

That would get John riled up and he knew it. In a second, Sherlock was under John, his wrists pinned above his head.

"You're a dick," John said and started to attack Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock smiled and wrapped his legs around John's waist. His John: so predictable. John's stubble felt pleasantly rough on his skin and Sherlock shivered. And, because he felt like being a little shit, he whispered in John's ear, "Is that the best you can do, John? I might as well go in the bathroom and take care of this myself."

"Ohhhh, you're really asking for it now, Sherlock," John growled and abruptly sucked Sherlock's lower lip into his mouth, making Sherlock groan in surprise.

Just when they were really getting started, their bedroom door opened to reveal Lestrade.

"Oh, Christ!" he yelled.

Sherlock felt his face burn. "Give us a minute!"

"That's fine, I'll come back later!" he shut the door and they heard his fleeing footsteps.

John sat up and started giggling, though the redness of his cheeks gave away his embarrassment. "Well, I guess he knows." He rolled off Sherlock and started giggling again, covering his mouth with his hand.

Sherlock would be more annoyed if John weren't so cute.

John looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Not again. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Mmm. You've been doing that a lot lately."

Sherlock rolled over. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't sulk," John put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "I didn't mind, you know, what you said, although I disagree with you."

Sherlock rolled back over and scoffed. "You just giggled like a schoolboy; how am I not supposed to find you cute?"

John groaned. "Shush. Can we go back to foreplay?"

Their kisses were interrupted again when John's phone started vibrating on the bedside table.

"Ugh, seriously?" John groaned and leaned closer to see who it was.

"Don't answer it," Sherlock said.

"Shit, it's my mother. I should answer."

"Why? You don't enjoy talking to her."

John ignored him and accepted the call. "Hello?"

Sherlock huffed and rolled over, closing his eyes and listening to John.

"Yes, hi…Really? That's tomorrow? Why do we have to go?"

Sherlock opened his eyes. We?

John was beginning to get irritated. "No one will care if we're there or not. You know I hate it, and I doubt Sherlock's too keen on that type of thing, either. You know, we're adults; we can just not listen to you."

Sherlock sat up. He was intrigued.

"Are you serious? You—! I can't believe….well, actually, you're right. Yes, yes, we'll be there." He ended the call.

"What was that about and why did I hear my name?" Sherlock asked.

"My parents are having their yearly 'we're-rich-and-we-want-to-flaunt-it' party tomorrow and they want us to show up."

Sherlock scowled. "That sounds dreadful. We're not going."

"See, that's what I thought at first, but then my mother pointed out that it's the least we could do for her, since she helped bring us together."

"That's ridiculous!" Sherlock scoffed. "She didn't care about whether or not you were happy with our marriage; she did it for her own selfish gain."

"I know, I know, but it's technically true." John smirked and his voice dropped to a lazy timbre. "We should repay my parents, though. I was just thinking—what better way to show them our gratitude than for me to fuck you in one of their nice, expensive closets?"

Sherlock gasped so sharply that he started coughing. He could feel a blush spreading from the tips of his ear down to his chest.

John, still smirking, rubbed his back soothingly.

Sherlock didn't really know how to react. The thought of having sex with the possibility of getting caught made him embarrassed and excited at the same time. "I…Yes, you're right," he said weakly.

John laughed and lifted Sherlock's chin with two strong fingers, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm glad you see things my way, love."

Sherlock's phone buzzed and he sighed. "Why does everyone insist on interrupting our sex life this morning?"

Are you done snogging your husband? I have something for you. GL

We're busy. Call me in two days. SH

"You're not even going to ask what he's got?" John asked, eyes wide. "Jesus, you must really love me."

Sherlock threw his phone across the room. "Shut up and kiss me."

He couldn't believe he was doing this. He could not believe he was actually doing this.

Sherlock's long legs were hoisted around John's waist and he was being fucked against the wall inside of John's parents' closet. His shirt was open and his trousers and pants were somewhere on the floor. John was completely clothed, though his jeans were pushed down by his knees. Even in the darkness of the closet, he felt exposed. It was too dark to see John's face, which was a downside to dark closet sex, but otherwise, as much as he hated to admit it, it was amazing. The darkness almost made things more intense, and Sherlock had a difficult time keeping quiet when John was pounding into him with quick, sharp thrusts. They had been at it for around fifteen minutes and he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to last. When Sherlock tried to muffle his moans, John pinned his wrists to the wall.

"Let them hear you," John growled. "Let me hear you."

Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek and still tried to cut off his grunts. John was always fairly dominant in bed (and Sherlock could be, too, thank you very much), but never like this. The thought that there were people just outside of that door sent shivers down Sherlock's spine and made his cock throb. "John," he managed, "this is in..d-decent!" He groaned loudly through clenched teeth when John wrapped his hand around his leaking cock.

Sherlock slapped his free hand over his mouth and let moans and whimpers fall from his lips as John pumped him in time with his thrusts.

"Don't you fucking dare," John let go of his prick, causing Sherlock to whimper at the loss of sensation. "Let me hear."

Sherlock obeyed and took his hand away, no longer caring about the people outside and panting through his open mouth. "John, please!"

"That's it," John stroked Sherlock again and gave one deep, sharp thrust.

Sherlock saw stars and came with a cry all over his abdomen and John's fist. Toe-curling pleasure gripped his entire being and he squeezed his eyes shut, enjoying the wave. Through his daze, he heard John give a long "uhhhh" and he came inside of him.

They stayed like that, catching their breath, until John gently pulled out and lowered Sherlock's legs onto the floor, holding his waist.

"Hey, you," John said breathlessly and kissed the side of his neck. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Sherlock said, his mind slowly coming back online. "Where are my clothes?"

John pulled up his jeans and zipped them. "Somewhere around here. I didn't throw them too far."

"Found them," Sherlock said and dressed himself, aware of the come that was seeping out of him. It was disgusting, but there was something appealing about it that he couldn't quite figure out. He buttoned up his shirt. "Ready to go back?"

"Oh, yes," John grabbed his hand and opened the closet door.

Once they were out of the darkness, Sherlock was able to get a good look at John. His hair was a little messy (Sherlock wanted to run his hands through it) and his eyes were somewhat glassy, but he looked presentable. Sherlock didn't even want to know what he looked like.

John's family members and his parents' friends either refused to look at them or were giving them piercing glares.

Sherlock was a bit ashamed solely because his parents were there, but they gave approving smiles and nodded to them. That didn't make Sherlock feel much better.

John's parents were furious. Mrs. Watson looked absolutely humiliated and Mr. Watson stalked over to them from across the room. "What the hell were you two thinking?! Those walls aren't soundproof!"

"We know," John smiled and squeezed Sherlock's hand tighter.

Mr. Watson was so angry that he couldn't speak for a moment. It took a lot of willpower for Sherlock not to smirk.

"And what's that?" he pointed in horror at Sherlock's neck.

Ah, he'd forgotten about the hickey.

"I just decided that everyone should know how much I love my husband," John said simply.

It had been weeks since their shared love confessions, but Sherlock's heart still beat rapidly every time John said he loved him, even more so now that John was saying it in front of someone else. He was proud of being married to Sherlock, and Sherlock absolutely did not tear up at the notion. That would be preposterous.

"Get out, both of you!"

"Yes, sir," John said cheerfully and led Sherlock out of the house, the eyes of the room upon them.

They got outside, took one look at each other, and giggled uncontrollably. Every time they started to calm down, one look would make their laughter start up again.

"Oh, Sherlock," John kissed his smiling lips softly. "Let's go home."

Sherlock hailed a cab and they rode home cuddled in the backseat, not giving a shit about the looks the cabbie was giving them. Sherlock felt sleepy, as he always did after sex, and spent the majority of the ride with his face buried in John's neck.

"Sherlock?" John asked softly.

"Hmm?"

"Did you ever think we'd end up like this?"

Sherlock shifted so he could see John's face. "Explain?"

John was looking out the window. "Well, when my parents told me about this, I thought of a bunch of possibilities for how it would end up, but I never thought it would be this."

Sherlock sat up a bit. "I know. Believe me, John, I didn't think this would ever happen. I mean, I didn't think this would happen to me ever. Not just regarding you." He hadn't meant to say that. Now he sounded whiny and pathetic.

John turned his head to look Sherlock. "I'm glad it worked out this way," he said quietly, a small smile forming at his thin lips.

Sherlock didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded.

John leaned his forehead against Sherlock's and brushed their lips together. "Love you, dickhead."

Sherlock smiled, "Love you, too, moron."

They kissed softly and unhurriedly, warmth blooming in Sherlock's chest and spreading down to his toes. John played with the curls at Sherlock's nape and used his other hand to cup his cheek. Sherlock hummed happily when he felt the cool metal of the ring on his warm skin. He's mine forever. This is it. This is love. Fascinating.

That's it! This was really fun to write! Thank you to everyone who left a review or added this to their alert/favorites. You dudes made me keep going!
So, I want to write again, but my brain has no more ideas. If any of you have a prompt, please let me know!
Thanks for reading!