A/N: In anticipation for season four I've strayed from my usual sherlolly to write this little piece. For all you wondering why I would ever jump ship into johnlock I want you to know I still am on the good ship sherlolly but my looking glass is merely gazing across the bay to the ship johnlock and I've notice they are having A LOT of fun. So this is a one-shot, no intention of writing more. I shall return to sherlolly shortly.

In the original stories Watson had a wife and baby who died of complications during birth. He later remarried but it's hardly ever mentioned but in passing. This one shot has been on my mind since the end of season 3 and is not what I hope happens, more like what could happen in the johnlock universe. I actually think something is going to happen to Molly in the show, either she is evil or she gets killed. Or I think Mary dies and the baby lives. Those are my predictions based on what I saw in the teaser trailer. If you watch it again you notice the clip where Sherlock is on the verge of tears near the end totally stunned and looking like a kicked dog, he is in the morgue, the silver cooler doors are behind him. Take a peek and tell me what you think! Anyway, onto the story. If you squint, and I mean REALLY squint- you will see some Sherlolly too.

Hurt and Comfort

It had been six months since John had lost both Mary and his daughter due to complications in the final hours of delivery. The umbilical cord had been wrapped tight around the babies throat as well as her torso and legs. The amount of blood loss had been like a spilled gallon of paint all over the floor and the bedding- Mary had been so pale, her lips blue.

When the doctor had informed John the man sank to his knees, Sherlock, completely at a loss made no acknowledgement of anyone else. Molly had covered her mouth and rushed to Mrs. Hudson who had taken her up in a hug, tears leeking from her eyes and a sob escaping Molly's throat. Mycroft, this having been a rare moment of him emerging from his offices to join in welcoming a new life, sat with a thump in a near by chair, his fingers folded over the handle of his umbrella, eyes staring off into nothing. He seemed almost as if he was trying to solve this problem, how could he fix it for John, but there was no answer and his face seemed to be buffering, stuck in a limbo where there was no solution.

Lestrade had bustled in, fresh off a case but stopped at the scene before him.

A whispered "No-" graced his lips before he sat down in disbelief next to Mycroft, putting an arm over the elder Holmes shoulder, whether for his comfort or Lestrade's own it didn't matter.

Sherlock felt his feet move, though his mind was quite blank, he dropped to the ground next to John and took the man, who was now sobbing loudly, into his arms and for the first time since Sherlock had met him John reacted in a most uncharacteristically emotional way. He latched onto Sherlock, burying his face into his friends neck, hot tears staining Sherlock's collar. He sobbed openly but only Sherlock heard the man's mournful murmurs, "Please God no, don't take them- I can't do this again- I can't loose- I can't loose someone again- I'm not strong enough- no no please God no-"

Sherlock had started to rock him softly, and in a deep soothing voice, one he had learned from both Mycroft and his mother, though he'd never admit it, he whispered into John's ear, "Don't worry, I'll be strong for you. I'll take care of everything."

John had barrier two people in less then a week. Sherlock had, in a desperate attempt to aid his suddenly destroyed friend, put all cases on hold. He, with the help of Molly Hooper, his brother and Mrs. Hudson had planned the entire service, funeral, buriel and paid for everything. In less than a month from their death John had moved back into Baker street, leaving the selling of his house to Mycroft who promised to take care of all the paperwork. His limp had returned full force and he had seemingly taken an unspoken vow of silence.

He was a ghost walking and existing among the living, he stopped going to work, barely ate and often times when he did manage to sleep would wake wailing into the dark. On those nights, the darker nights, Sherlock would come to him with a glass of water and a tumbler of whisky. He'd help John to drink both and then lay him back down. He'd offer soft whispers of reassurance, telling John that he was still here and that Mary and the baby were indeed gone but that they'd not want him to torture himself so.

John would say nothing, only take up Sherlock's hand and hold it in an iron grip before he would curl in on himself and suffer back into a world of dark nightmares and longing so potent even Sherlock could feel it.

Now, six months later, John had resumed work, though no smile had graced his face. He was sleeping through the night but his limp remained. He had gone only on one case with Sherlock, and at the sight of a blonde prostitute laying dead in an alley, John had given some excuse and left back to Baker street. Sherlock didn't press him when he returned home.

John was getting better, accepting the lose and trying to live again. Though after the incident with the prostitute he still did not come on cases. He did, however, offer small sentences and ideas to help Sherlock, he was being a sounding board without getting involved.

Sherlock kept working to create a normal life around John again, well, as normal of a life as one could have when around Sherlock Holmes.

Molly, Greg and Mrs. Hudson all came to visit though they kept it brief and mostly strayed away from talk of Mary or the baby. Sherlock could tell at times, John appreciated it, while other times he would become dark and withdrawn, annoyance building at their lack of tact.

It was late into the sixth month when Sherlock noticed a change in John, the man who usually kept his distance, even before the lose of his wife and children would move closer to him. Hovering around him, standing closer and one time Sherlock even found the man napping in his bed, John's face pressing into Sherlock's pillow, breathing deep.

Neither said anything of it, and Sherlock wasn't even sure John was aware he was doing it. One night, as the two sat at the table eating take away they were discussing a case that Sherlock had just finished and Sherlock had sighed out in frustration, "I always miss something-" His huff of annoyance drew John's eyes away from his fried rice and without even thinking about it John's hand reached across the space and came to rest on Sherlock's. John's thumb absent-mindedly rubbed circles on the flesh between Sherlock's thumb and pointer finger and though Sherlock was startled by the sudden exceedingly open display of affection, he did not stop it for in that moment, during this affectionate and soothing atmosphere Sherlock saw John smile. It was faint, almost not noticeable, but it was there and Sherlock's brain made a connection he had never made before.

Physical contact of an affectionate nature makes John smile…..

"Don't worry mate, judging from what Greg said, you were brilliant. I think it was just a minor laps in judgment on your part- even you can't see everything- you are still human."

It had been a very very long time since John had tried to comfort Sherlock, he had all but given up doing it after their first year solving crimes together as Sherlock often dismissed the doctors reassuring words and spat something cruel back at him. Usually pertaining to wasting Sherlock's time with useless drivel and unneeded reassurance.

This time though, Sherlock said nothing, he simply nodded his head and accepted the offered words of condolence. He observed John carefully and realized his smile grew very minutely before he removed his hand and went back to eating.

Late after John went to bed Sherlock stayed up, it was nearly two in the morning when he pulled out his phone and dialed his father's cell.

Sigor picked up after the second ring and despite the hour no fatigue laced his voice as he greeted his son with curiosity and happiness.

"I've got a question for you." Sherlock said after all the banal greetings and conversations were done.

"For me? That's a surprise. What can I help you with William?"

"Do you receive joy from being able to comfort mummy?"

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment before his father cleared his throat, Sherlock heard the smile in his voice, "Doesn't everybody?"

"No. What I mean to ask is, do you personally enjoy being able to sooth mummies frustrations and worry? Is there a comfort in being able to comfort someone else?"

Another pause before his father's voice came across with a little less cheer, "Does this have to do with John?"

It was Sherlock's turn to hesitate but he decided honesty was the best policy in this instance, "Yes. I've noticed some strange behavior cropping up since he- since the loss of Mary and the baby. He has taken to remaining close by, within arms reach of me whenever I am home. And as I think about it now, on more then one occasion he has jumped at the chance to offer me comfort and convey his emotional attachment towards me in ways he never has before. Up until now our friendship has been unspoken. Since his lose he had been more fourth coming with affection and has even taken to-" Sherlock hesitated before he took a breath and pushed forward, "Offering me comforting words and soothing touches. He held my hand tonight over dinner after I informed him I missed a clue during a case- it was taken care of and solved but he still seemed to feel the need to comfort me, even though in the passed I have cut him down for doing so. He- he smiled when I chose to accept his words instead of reject them. It's the first time he's smiled since- since his loss. Which makes me wonder if, perhaps, the way to help John in his recovery could be to allow him to be sentimental and overly caring for a time. Until all this dreadful buisness has passed and he is back to his old self."

Sigor seemed to choose his words carefully before he spoke, "Listen carefully Will. If there is any advice I can give you in my lifetime as your father this maybe the only useful thing I have ever been able to tell you."

Sherlock's brow furrowed before he pressed the phone tighter to his ear and waited, "John has been through a lot, loosing you and then getting you back. The war and getting shot and all that bad rubbish. Now he has lost his wife and only child. You have been there for him through it all, and I won't lie to you you've done brilliantly. A man like John- he needs in his life someone whom he can care for, as a soldier he is trained to protect. To put others needs above his own- despite the fact he is the one suffering it isn't hard to believe a man like him would find purchase in something as daunting to you as sentiment. I don't doubt he'd find his happiness again in offering comfort to others, finding a purpose again after such a traumatic loss. But you must understand, as hard as it may be for you, that he could be using you as a place holder for Mary. He spent two years with that woman, one without you the other with you. You rose to the occasion when he lost her, did everything a friend should, you've taken care of him, kept him grounded. There is a chance this will all pass, that after awhile he will move on and find someone else-"

The hesitation made Sherlock's stomach twist, "But?" Sherlock said with a clipped tone.

"He may not. And if that is the case he'll be looking to you- for something he doesn't even know he wants and something I do not know if you can give him."

Sherlock's insides turned cold, for he knew what his father was implying without saying it. The cold ach in his gut was not from fear but from shock.

"You don't think- you mean to say he will want-"

"It's possible. Since he came back from Afghanistan you've been the only constant in his life, even when you were away, as Myke has told us, he only ever seemed to dwell on you until Mary came into his life. Now Mary is gone, and once again you are there. I'd not be surprised if at this very moment confusion isn't somewhere mixed in with his suffering and pain. I just want you to tread carefully, this is not the time to experiment. You need to know what you are and aren't willing to do for him. That way, if it ever comes up, you'll have an answer for him."

"I assume you and mummy-"

"Don't care either way. Your happiness is our only concern. So I suppose I should tell you to consider every possibility- visit that brain house of yours-"

"Mind palace." Sherlock corrected, "Right right, and think long and hard on what I've said."

"Very well, I will take your advice into consideration and act accordingly."

"Alright, good talk. Give our love to John. Good night."

"Mmm." Sherlock replied before he hung up.

He definitely needed to visit his mind palace and work this all out, for he had suddenly found himself in a position he could never have for seen with the only man in his life who ever really mattered.

Another month had gone by and Sherlock continued to observe John, to see how the man acted towards him. To Sherlock's dismay it seemed to be coming more and more domestic as the weeks went by. If it hadn't been for his father's advice Sherlock may never have even noticed. John had taken the roll of husband without even realizing it himself. Telling Sherlock when he would be home before he went to work, making sure Sherlock had plenty of food and that the flat was cleaned. He spoke so much more softly to him now then he ever had before. Almost like he was speaking to a lover instead of his best friend. The touches on Sherlock's arms, shoulders and lower back increased and he even noticed John pulled out his chair for him whenever they went out to eat. Slowly but surely John's smiles returned, his eyes had shifted from dead and empty to alive and content.

One day, as they walked down the street laughing about a case that had been an eight but had bordered on humorous rather than murderous, John had linked his arm in Sherlock's. The taller man could tell John hadn't even realized he had done it. They walked home with their elbows linked and once again Sherlock let it go.

It was in the eighth month that things came to a head, for as John called Sherlock to the table for dinner something slipped from his mouth that not even John could miss.

Sherlock had approached the table and John's hand ran down his arm and took his hand, "Got your favorite love-" Sherlock instantly stiffened and John froze. Sherlock's eyes locked with John's as the man's brow furrowed and he instantly took a step back and released Sherlock's hand. He broke eye contact and gazed off into space, his eyes doing a perfect imitation of Sherlock when he was scanning through information in his mind palace. His brow furrowed deeper if it were possible before he looked back to Sherlock, "What have I done- w-what am I doing!" he took another step back before he slammed into the wood trim that lined the opening between the kitchen and sitting room.

He slowly slid down until he rested on his haunches and put his face in to his hands. "Oh my god- Sherlock- im so sorry- what the hell was I-"

"It's alright." Sherlock said softly and John looked up to him in shock, "No, no its not!" he shoved up from his crouched position and came to stand before Sherlock, though he left a good few feet between them.

"How could you let me- jesus- two months of this. How could you put up with me- for two months!" John's face erupted with red before his hands slid down his face and then ran through his hair.

"You are my friend." Sherlock said as if that explained everything.

"Yes. I am, and your mine. But you should have never had to put up with me- god you must have been so uncomfortable-"

"No." Sherlock said sincerely though it was clipped and held a trace of annoyance.

The look of utter shock and surprise on John's face spoke volumes, "No?"

"I've not held anything against you- nor did I mind allowing you your indulgence. It was- is- nice to see you smile again."

Sherlock saw realization click in John's eyes and he looked to his friend having nothing to say at that moment.

Sherlock elected to choose his next words carefully, "You are, have always been, my one and only friend. You are without a doubt the best man I have ever known. I would die for you, in fact I already have- if there is ever anything I can do for you you can have no doubt that I will. Unlike me, you thrive off companionship and sentiment. It's been eight months since you lost Mary, you miss her desperately, you miss her touch and affection and her love and deep companionship that you've not felt with anyone before, not even me. I know the only time I've ever felt something even remotely close to what you are feeling now is when I had to walk away from you. For three years I mourned your loss, wished I could call and tell you, wished you knew that I was alright. Now, in this moment I have the opportunity to give you something truly meaningful. To be there for you in a way I couldn't ever before. I'll not shy away from it. You are an adrenaline junky, you need the thrill of the chase and the excitement of an active life. You need purpose and to feel like you are saving lives and helping others, ever the soldier and husband. But more then anything-" Sherlock moved forward then, his hand coming up to cup John's cheek and the man's eyes grew wide as tears shined just on the verge of falling, his jaw clenched tight, "You need touch, physical comfort- you need love. I dare say love to you is like heroine to me, hard to go without, nearly impossible, a drug that you could do without i suppose but don't want to. I've thought about this carefully, ever since I noticed your rather sudden change in behavior. And I've decided- that I am willing to give you anything you need. Anything, John. Anything."

Sherlock felt his own eyes soften, felt a small smile creep across his face as John looked up at him with confusion and shock. Sherlock knew he needed to prove his point, so with only one thing left to do he leaned in and placed a very light kiss on John's lips.

John instantly shoved him away and he stumbled back falling onto his side before he scrambled to his feet, "Bloody hell Sherlock!"

The detectives hand, still outstretched from cupping John's face slowly dropped to his side and he stood there staring at John. His face blank, his own emotions covered completely.

"I'm. Not. Gay!" John bit out as anger twisted his face and his hands clenched at his sides, Sherlock could tell John wanted to punch him.

"I am not implying you are. Nor do I assume you are looking for anything other than comfort and security. But I wanted you to know- you don't have to be one way or the other to receive comfort from someone you trust."

"Not that kind of comfort, not from you and not like this." John turned away then and grabbed his coat off the coat rack before he shrugged into it and walked out of the flat.

Two days passed without John returning to the flat, Sherlock began to worry but chose not to bring it up to Lestrade, his brother or Molly as he didn't want to have to explain what had occured. Neither he nor John would appreciate the speculation or assumptions made about why such an event had occured.

At three in the morning on the third day Sherlock was sitting in his chair, pulling his bow slowly across the strings of his violin, lost in his mind palace and going over everything he had said and done in the few moments before John's swift departure. He heard the front door open and close and soft footfalls on the stairs. They were slow and deliberate, as the person in question seemed to be struggling with reaching the top, more from nerves than physical inability.

As the doctor entered the room he hesitated at the threshold, Sherlock feeling relief at the man's appearance in the flat but not showing an ounce of it.

"John." he said by way of greeting, giving a single nod but not making a move to rise or set down his violin.

John bounced on the tip of his toes for a moment, a classic habit during times of awkward silence. Sherlock said nothing else but appeared to return to his pensive thoughts.

John cleared his throat and turned around, shutting and then locking the door behind him. Sherlock's eyes jumped up to him at the sound of the lock clicking in place, his focus resting on John's back who was still turned away from him, the doctors hand hesitating on the lock before he finally dropped his hand and turned back to Sherlock, though his eyes remained steadfastly on the floor.

"Two days." Sherlock said with minimal emotion, "I hope in that time you were able to sort it all out?" it was a question and a statement all in one.

John's eyes finally looked up to him, the look of determined annoyance as he clenched his jaw and stared at him, "I've had some thoughts on the matter yes. But I guarantee you'll not what to hear it, yeah?"

Sherlock stood then and set his violin aside, "On the contrary, I think I'd like to hear what you've come up with."

John shook his head, "Nope. You won't." his eyes flashed with fire and Sherlock had to admit he missed that look in his friends eyes.

"Seeing you so worked up gives me hope you are on the mend, so be it a punch to the face or a hug I'll be glad to take what ever is coming."

A haughty smile spread across his face, "Right. Let's get this over with then."

John approached Sherlock and in an instant whipped his fist up and across Sherlock's face. The taller man stumbled back; he couldn't help but notice the normal strength in which John normally punched him wasn't behind the blow.

"Listen to me and listen well, I've been screwed up. Screwed up by the whole bloody mess! My wife- my wife and child are dead." his voice gave a little at the omission, as this was the first time he had actually acknowledged what had happened.

"Now, I can't deny, you've been good to me these past eight months. Put up with a lot of my shite, with my problems. I can't thank you enough. But if you think for one second that I would EVER put you in a situation where you would need to do- to do something like that, for me- your an idiot. I would NEVER ask you to compromise yourself for my own well being."

Sherlock had stood by then, his hand cupping his chin and rotating his jaw to make sure there wasn't a break. "I know. I wasn't implying that I would allow you to use me in such a way."

"But you did. I don't want- I don't need you to offer yourself up like a temporary bandage. I- what I need is- is not something I'd ever expect you to give."

"But I would- I want to- if it will help you to deal with-"

"I WANT MY WIFE, SHERLOCK!" John yelled, "I want Mary and my daughter, not you and some false illusion of domestic bliss that you have fabricated in order to try and pull me out of my own despair."

Sherlock knew he would have to be blunt if he wanted to make his intentions clear, "You cannot have your wife. She is dead, so is your daughter. They are gone and they won't be coming back." John had looked away then at Sherlock's rough words, his temper building and his anguish washing over him in waves of trauma and despair, "You came back!" John barked out, "You came back after three years. I can wait, I will wait!"

Sherlock instantly saw where this was going and he approached John quickly but the man jumped away from him and rounded, "John-"

"No! They'll come back, just like you did. They will come back!"

Sherlock felt pity swell in his gut and his hand reached out to his friend, "No, John. They won't."

John looked to him, his brows bending up in sadness, "They'll come back-" he weezed out, his throat seeming to clench as he finished his sentence, "You did, they can. Mary will and they will be fine-"

"No." Sherlock said softly.

John's sadness melted into anguish and anger, his teeth clenching before he spoke again, his words filled with hate and doubt, "They will."

Sherlock hesitated, he knew what would be coming if he denied it again, he knew he'd have to be ready.

"No, not this time."

John instantly charged him, but instead of dodging Sherlock hunched down and opened his arms. As John rushed him, pulling his arm back to swing Sherlock caught the man's wrist and pulled the suddenly thrashing John against his chest. They toppled down, Sherlock's back slamming into the ground. He held John at bay as the man thrashed and tried over and over to swing at him, kick him and all around beat the tar out of him.

"They'll be back!" John bellowed as he continued to wrestle and fight against Sherlock's iron like hold. Eventually John's escape attempts slowed and he let out a high pitched sob as he gave a final jerk before he went limp.

"They're coming back-" he sobbed out.

"No they are not, John. But I'm here. I will always be here. You can have me, as long as you need."

"God Sherlock- don't say that."

"I will say it. Because I mean it, amd I want you to know I mean it. I am here. However you need me, and I won't and don't regret anything."

John shifted in Sherlock's grip and the man let him go, watching the blonde man carefully as he sat up. John sunk into his chair, elbows on his knees face in his hands. Sherlock came to kneel before John and gently took the man's hands, pulling them away from his friends face.

John's red rimmed eyes looked up to Sherlock's cold blue ones, "I'm right here." Sherlock whispered before he leaned in and gently kissed John again. This time he lingured but John pulled away, though he made no move to get up, "Sherlock- dont-" he whispered, his eyes clenched shut and his mouth smeared into a frown.

"I can see it now, your not resisting because you don't want to-"

"Sherlock-" John warned.

"Your resisting because you think I am only doing this for the sake of your sanity. But I can assure you John, I am doing this, offering this- because I am your whole world now. And I want to keep it that way- it's actually rather selfish of me if you think about it." Sherlock took John's jaw in his hand and gently guided his face back around, "Let me comfort you. Let me help you. Let me-"

Sherlock leaned in again, the two words he meant to say dying on his lips, let me love you-

His lips sought John's though the man tried to evade but Sherlock was stubborn and pursued, quickly catching John's lips and this time delivering unto his friend a devastating kiss, his tongue working to make its way into the shorter man's mouth.

John resisted a moment longer until Sherlock brought up his hand and ran it through John's hair much as he had seen Mary do when she thought Sherlock wasn't paying attention.

John gasped into his mouth and Sherlock took the opportunity to force his tongue in. John caved then and kissed him back, his eyes closed tight and his hand tightening on Sherlock's forearm.

When Sherlock broke the kiss John leaned his forehead against Sherlock's and said softly with determination, "I'm not gay-"

"You don't have to be to need comfort."

Sherlock stood then and took John by the hand, he pulled the man up and guided him down the hall towards his room. He moved backwards, his eyes never leaving John's, the man staring at him with a look of uncertainty and trepidation.

When they moved passed the doorway and into Sherlock's room the brunette shut the door softly and locked it. John stood immobile, his face looking straight ahead. Sherlock gently removed John's coat, laying it aside on a nearby chair. He then began the arduous process of removing all of John's clothes. When it came to the man's shoes he placed a hand on John's shoulder and bid the man to sit on the edge of his bed. John complied as if he were a robot, no resistance or words of protest. When the shoes and socks were off he bid John to stand again and as before the man complied. When Sherlock's hands came to John's belt the blonde man's hands caught his own, their eyes met and John whimpered out, "Sherlock-"

Sherlock gave a soft smile, "It's fine John. It's all fine." Sherlock communicated with his sharp eyes and the man didn't make another move to stop him. When John was in nothing but his boxers Sherlock turned away to start removing his own clothes.

John put his hand on the man's shoulder and maneuvered to stand before him, "Let me." John said softly and Sherlock nodded after a moment of hesitation.

John moved slowly, his hands never shook but his eyes seemed to be a long ways off. It took far less time to disrobe Sherlock as he had been in his night attire. When both men were in nothing but their boxers John's eyes looked from the pile of clothes on the floor to Sherlock's bare chest. He raised a hand tentatively and hovered just an inch above the pale skin. Sherlock's hand took up John's and slowly pressed it to his skin, he saw the instant look of relief washing over John's face at the contact.

The hand started to move up, gently gliding over the smooth heated skin as if it had been done a hundred times before. John stopped his hand at the back of Sherlock's neck, his thumb rolling soothing circles just at the edge of his hair line.

Sherlock couldn't help himself, he closed his eyes and found himself savouring the touch, it had been so long since he had really had any true intimacy. Part of him wondered if he could get lost in this unspoken agreement, if he would be able to resurface after what was about to happen.

John had to lean up on his toes but he brushed Sherlock's lips with his own and the taller man shuttered, "God- you really do want this don't you-" John murmured against his friends lips.

"I told you I was selfish."

"I don't think you realize how unselfish you really are."

"Nonsense."

"It's always nonsense with you you git."

John kissed him then and Sherlock didn't hesitate to respond, his hands coming up to spread across johns chest. He needed to try be the subordinate, to let John lead and play the role of his significant other. He needed to suppress his own desires to be in control, as John was used to being the dominate in the bedroom. Something Mary had told him in confidence once when they had spent a day planning the wedding and John had been at work. He didn't remeber how the conversation had come about, only that Mary had admitted she gave up her control and dominate nature in the bedroom because she liked letting John take the lead, liked him being in charge.

Sherlock didn't want to stray to far from what John was used to less the man feel the need to pull back, they'd come this far already, turning back know would set John back by months.

John pressed into Sherlock and then manuvered the man away from the bed, John took to sitting on the edge, Sherlock standing before him. Leaning forward John kissed, sucked and licked across Sherlock's belly, the detective gasping and running his hands through John's hair.

This seemed to spur his partner on and the man's hands came to wrap around and grip his arse.

"Mmm." Sherlock moaned out as John continued pay special attention to Sherlock's hip bone.

After awhile Sherlock felt his knees bend and he was soon resting between John's thighs, his hands reached up and ran along the inner thigh, John's head rolling back and his eyes closing in concentration. Not hesitating Sherlock freed John's member and when the man in questions showed no signs of stopping him the brunette leaned forward and slowly took John's length into his mouth.

"Oh shite." John hissed. His hand coming to lace through Sherlock's hair before gripping into his scalp firmly and guiding Sherlock's slow movements in the way he wanted.

When John prompted Sherlock to speed up the man complied, sucking and slurping along the length of him.

"Jesus, your good at that-" John murmured.

Sherlock felt his pride bristle and he worked harder in anticipation of John's release. Just as Sherlock felt John's cock stiffen the man yanked his hair and he pulled Sherlock off, John's cock popping from his mouth.

He pulled Sherlock by his hair up onto the bed and Sherlock allowed it. John laid him on his back and moved to lay on his belly. He took hold of Sherlock's boxers and slid them off before he grabbed the long legs before him and placed them over his shoulders. Taking hold of Sherlock's throbbing length John's mouth sunk lower out of Sherlock's line of sight and when the detective felt a hot wet tongue slide over his arse hole he jerked and hissed.

"Relax." John offered though he kept up his ministrations. Sherlock felt himself grow harder and his hands gripped into the bedding as his eyes snapped closed and heat pooled in his stomach.

After a few minutes of John's swirling tongue melting Sherlock into the bed he pushed Sherlock's legs off his shoulders and shifted up to his knees, "Do you need-"

Sherlock shook his head quickly and John nodded before he positioned himself at Sherlock's entrance and after a moment of hesitation starred to push.

Sherlock clenched his teeth and doubled his grip on the bedding, the pain emanating from John's breaching length was raw and sharp.

John had laid down on him by now, his hands wrapping around Sherlock's thighs to grip the man's arse and spread his cheeks.

"Just relax." John whispered, "relax and let me in." the murmured words of comfort did little to help the pain but Sherlock knew that John was doing his best to go slow and steady.

"God it feels good to be inside again-" John nearly panted out and despite Sherlock's discomfort he had to admit he was savouring the attention and the feeling of John being connected to him in a way they had never crossed before. There was no further to go after this, in all reality they will have shared everything with each other.

Sherlock hadn't been lying when he said he was doing this because he both cared for John and because he was selfish. For John was a creature of habit. Homosexuality aside, even if John was straight as an arrow and was only doing this to reach some state of acceptance and inner peace, he had joined physically with Sherlock. Which meant when this physical and emotional moment between them was done, John would follow his hard formed habits to the tee, meaning Sherlock would become his soul focus. He may never choose to be physical with him again, but his instincts would zone in on Sherlock as his mate, irregardless of Sherlock being a man. That garunteed Sherlock would have John all to himself, for as long as he wanted.

And while the more humanistic side of Sherlock, the one John had broken free from the cage in which Sherlock had imprisoned it, shivered and wretched at the idea of such a manipulation, the more dominate part of Sherlock that was selfish, greedy and ego ridden didn't care.

He had willingly shared John with Mary because she was what he had wanted and needed and Mary loved him just as much as Sherlock. But now, Sherlock had the opportunity to keep John from ever having to go through the same pain again. He could protect and shelter John in a way he hadn't been able to before. John's heart would be protected, Sherlock would make sure of it.

John suddenly thrust in the rest of the way, which pulled Sherlock from his thoughts and made him grunt in pain.

"I'm in- it's okay. The hard parts over." more words of comfort and to Sherlock's surprise he found himself relaxing at John's words and taking deep panting breaths.

"God your tight." John whispered more to himself than to Sherlock.

"I should be, as your the first to-" Sherlock stopped and looked at John who was frozen, his eyes wide, "You mean you never- not with anyone? Man or woman?"

Sherlock shook his head, his eyes glancing down to John's collar bone, "God, you mean I just took your-"

"Yup." Sherlock said popping the P though it lost its usual humorous flare when John shifted and the taller man winced.

"Jesus. Okay- we go easy then. Relax and focus on me."

Sherlock nodded and took a breath as John pulled out a little and pressed back in. That's when Sherlock felt pleasure spark in his gut, "Ah!" he cried out as his head jerked back and pushed into the pillow, "Again." Sherlock whimpered and he was sure he had never sounded so desperate in his life, John let out a breath of surprise and moaned, "Jesus. I'm going-"

John started to move with more fluid strokes, hitching Sherlock's hips up as he pressed deeper and with more vigor.

"For God's sake! Move!" Sherlock urged, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to be playing submissive. John complied and Sherlock felt the man smirk against his neck, "Sure." he said as he gave a harder thrust and Sherlock jerked and arched against him as another explosion of pleasure ignited in his core.

After that all was silent aside from the slap of their slick skin and small grunts and pants. John's nails were mercilessly digging in the flesh of his arse and he was pounding into him with such a force Sherlock knew it wouldn't be long now.

Sherlock's arms had wrapped around John's neck, something he was sure he had deduced Mary did when her and John were intimate. This action, so subtle, seemed to spur John on and in only a few seconds Sherlock's body stiffened and he came undone, a clear yell ripping from his throat as he came, his cock twitching and spurting cum all over his and John's bellies.

John wasn't far behind and when he came he pressed in as deep as he could and Sherlock swore he felt John's cock in his stomach.

When John tumbled over he bit into Sherlock's shoulder for a moment before he nuzzled his head into the detectives neck, kissing and sucking harshly. Another thrust was given as John emptied into him, painting his insides and filling him up. At the very idea Sherlock felt his cock twitch and another less intense orgasim rippled through his body. More cum leaked from his cock and smeared between them.

"God- a second-" John groaned out and continued to give soft thrusts in, his cock still weeping and filling his friend.

When John had finally finished he didn't pull out, he stayed rooted deep inside Sherlock's arse, his arms leaving the man's hips to run up his sides and take hold of Sherlock's face. He kissed everything, lips, eyelids, cheeks chin and forehead before capturing Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock kissed him back eagerly, his desire to keep himself controlled and submitted to John's will becoming stronger as he savored the feeling of the man still inside him. John pushed forward, as if he were trying to bury deeper inside and Sherlock whined.

"Just a little longer love, I want to be in you just a tick longer." John's voice was horse as he whispered roughly into Sherlock's ear, his mouth rubbing across Sherlock's temple.

Suddenly Sherlock had no doubt Mary had submitted to John in the bedroom as the woman claimed, John may have been rubbish at deductions and logic, but he was an expert in sexual control and dominance. Sherlock, the man being one of a stubborn and uncomprehendingly controling and petulant nature was putty beneath this man. He wanted to give him any and everything he wanted.

"God, I'm still hard- Why am I still-" John grunted as his hand gripped tightly into Sherlock's hair.

"Your not making it easy to pull out love-" John whispered again, in that voice which Sherlock had never heard before but was growing to desire more and more.

"Then dont-" Sherlock offered.

"I'd go again if you'd let me- but it's your first-"

"Do it."

"Sherlock-" John tried to protest though his hips were already starting to move, "It's to much for your first-"

Sherlock's hand came to John's arse and squeezed as he tried to push John back in, "Do it- Please." and Sherlock realized it was the first time in his entire life that he had begged and he hoped to god the woman would never ever find out.

At Sherlock's plea John smiled a full blown smile and kissed Sherlock's throat, "Tell me if it hurts, yeah?"

"Ta." Sherlock managed, the shortest and easiest way to tell John he understood.

John was already pulling out and pressing in and Sherlock felt the man's seed spilling out of him with each thrust, lubbing him and making their second time far more easy on Sherlock's thuroughly abused hole.

This time the build took longer, but the pain and discomfort was gone as Sherlock's body had finally relaxed enough after his first orgasim to stop resisting John's girth.

"God, it feels so good to be inside you. I've missed this, I've missed you." John muttered in a rather sorrowful and lust filled voice.

Sherlock felt butterflies in his belly, partially because of John's positive words and partially because he feared John was starting to speak as if to Mary.

"I loved Mary, I love Mary. I never wanted her to leave me, to die- but God, when I was with her living my life- sometimes I'd miss you so much it would ache."

This time, hSherlock felt something erupt in his chest and mind as he realized John had in fact been talking about him.

"I didn't lie when I told you that you and Mary were the people I loved most in this world. She's gone now, my wife, the woman I love is gone now. She won't be back- but you are here. You've always been there. Always on my mind and I'd be worrying about you, wondering about you. I won't worry now, Mary's gone but your here- you'll always be here." John had whispered it all, so rushed and heated into Sherlock's ear as he stroked deep and smooth into Sherlock's body.

Sherlock had leaned his cheek against the side of John's face as the man had confessed to his own obsessions. Had confessed to his unhealthy need to be at Sherlock's side and sip from the cup of adventure and adrenaline.

"And I'll not leave now either." Sherlock's arousal at John's desperate confessions grew larger and in seconds he was ridding his orgasim as it ripped through him. Sherlock clenched his teeth and growled out as John thrust in so hard pain actually made it through the euphoric pleasure and he nearly jerked away, "No, don't- don't move away. Just let me- I'm almost- hold on love-" John took up Sherlock's jaw in his hands and kissed him with such force Sherlock nearly felt himself cum again. John continued to thrust against him until finally he tipped over and once again coated Sherlock's insides.

After that John only waited a few minutes to pull out, though when he did he allowed Sherlock no protests and told the man to hush up as he pulled him close and held him, Sherlock's back pressed to his front.

Sherlock lay there panting heavily, John's face nuzzling into the back of his head, Sherlock's curls caressing his face.

"Relax Sherlock." John soothed as he pulled the man even closer, "I'm going to be alright. Thanks to you. Everything is going to be alright." and once again Sherlock found a foreign feeling of comfort in the man's words, where normally he would protest and speak of every reason it wasn't going to be alright, telling John he was foolhardy and ridiculous. But for some reason he remained silent and basked in John's soft hums and murmurs and before he could even think of getting up to shower he felt sleep take him deep into its embrace.

The days that passed after that found John nearly back to his old self. Sherlock chose to ignore the comments from the peanut gallery about how John had taken nearly two years to get over Sherlock's death, and it was seemingly taking half that to get over his wife's. Sherlock knew the truth, deep down John would not be okay with the loss of Mary or his daughter for a very long time. But for now, with Sherlock acting as his support system, John could once again exist in the world of the living. Could cope with the day to day difficulties and finally after nearly nine months he was able to join Sherlock on a case.

They solved it together in mere hours and for a brief moment Sherlock saw the exuberant high fill John's eyes as he gave another rare true smile. The second in nine months. Neither spoke of their coupling, though Sherlock knew tthat John had taken to napping in Sherlock's bed and one three separate occasions had come into Sherlock's room while he thought the man was asleep and laid next to him until the wee hours of the morning.

To Sherlock's surprise John had resumed his rather uncommon need to be close to Sherlock. Neither spoke of it but the absentminded doctor continued to touch Sherlock's hand, arm, shoulder and lower back. He'd walk closer to him and on occasion he would wrap his arm through Sherlock's. The detective wasn't sure what this meant, if John was aware of what he was doing or if he was once again lost to his needs for contact. Sherlock also noticed where before Mary and before Sherlock and John's night together the doctor would jump at a chance to flirt with any pretty woman who so much as batted an eyelash John remained focused on any case they were on or completely on Sherlock if they were out together for the sake of leaving the flat. His eyes never once straying to any woman who showed interest. Sherlock found he preferred this new change as he could hold John's full attention and not have to worry about the man getting sidetracked.

It was on a cold winter night that Sherlock's questions on the matter were answered. Sherlock was trying to focus on a case, he was swimming in and out of focus from his mind palace. Frustration growing as the answer to the case was just out of reach.

"Blast it all-" Sherlock started as he jumped up.

John looked up from the book he was reading and glanced to his friends annoyed face.

"What's wrong?"

"This case! I'm so close, but every time I think I reach the answer it slips through my fingers. I can't grasp it, the solution is right there and yet it eludes me."

John watched him pace a bit more before he made a face of consideration and then closed his book with a snap.

"Come here." John said as he stood and crossed to the couch. Sherlock watched him with curious eyes and as John sat down, one leg stretched across the couch, the other bent with his foot firmly on the floor, John patted the spot between his thighs and Sherlock went ridged.

"What?" Sherlock snapped with confusion.

"Come here you great lump. I'm going to help you focus." Sherlock hesitated and John cocked a brow before he snapped out, "Come. Here."

Sherlock reluctantly walked over before he sat on the couch next to John, the man's leg brushing his back.

John's hands came to Sherlock's shoulders and he pulled so that Sherlock had to turn and lean back. Sherlock's head came to rest on the man's chest, his lower back pressing into the man's groin, his ankles finding purchase on the arm rest as his legs stretched out.

"I don't understand how this will-" John's hand had come up to run softly through his hair and all of Sherlock's bitter words died in his throat.

"Now, go in to that ridiculous head of yours and find the answer. Just relax and think."

Sherlock heard himself hum in acknowledgement but didn't remeber deciding to make that noise nor give in so easily. But as John's fingers messaged into his scalp he found the jumble of his mind clear and within minutes of searching the solution came through quickly, and it was embarrassingly simple.

He kept his eyes closed as he reached into the pocket of his robe and withdrew his phone, he blindly texted Lestrade and told him the solution before he turned his phone off and deposited it on the table.

"Got it sorted then?" John asked softly.

"Mmm." was Sherlock's only response.

John's hand continued to thread through his hair and Sherlock felt himself relaxing even more. He was calmed to the point of not even noticing John's other hand coming to snake down under the collar of his tee and started to gently stroke his chest.

"Feeling calm, love?" Sherlock's eyes opened at the pet name and he stared straight up to the ceiling. The last and only time John had ever called him that had been during their long but singular night together. Since then they had reverted to their usual suspects of name calling.

Either Sherlock and John or git and idiot.

When Sherlock didn't respond John's hands stopped moving and he leaned forward to peer down at Sherlock's blank face and wide eyes.

"Not good?" John asked, his question serious and his face worried.

Sherlock thought about it a moment before his eye finally scanned up to meet John's.

"It's fine- I was unaware that we were- that you would want to-"

"Always now. Since that night I've had to refrain in public, I've been testing the waters. You did not seem to mind- I've been touching you- have I read it wrong?"

"It's rare you read anyone wrong John." Sherlock offered.

"Well then?" John asked leaning down closer as he brushed his lips across Sherlock's forhead, "Bedroom?"

Sherlock hesitated before he felt heat pool in his belly and butterflies erupted in his chest.

"Alright." Sherlock said softly.

As the detective sat up John stood and when Sherlock followed suit John took his hand and guided the man through the flat into Sherlock's bedroom where he shut and locked the door.

"Will we be- doing this often?" Sherlock asked and John froze, he looked to his friend as he was midway done with unbuttoning his shirt.

"Oh Sherlock- only if you want to. I thought- I thought you would want-" John's hands dropped to his sides and his face grew inflamed with red. Sherlock instantly saw his mistake and moved forward placing a hand on his friends shoulder.

"please- let me clarify." John looked to him with frustrated eyes but nodded, "You know I don't understand things like this. Not like other people do. But I asked you that question because I need to know if- if this is something I can safely commit to. I will do or be anything you need. But I can't BE Mary, not forever. I need you to explain- I need you to help me understand what this is becoming. I can't read if your wanting this because you want me, or because you need comfort. I can keep myself detached and safe if it's just comfort- if it's more then that then- I don't honestly know how to proceed from here. I don't understand- and if you say you want to do this because you want me- not because you want me to be Mary- I am willing to try- try to do that thing people do. The thing with sentiment and feelings and letting their heart ache with want and need."

John was staring at him in shock, his mouth hanging open until finally he blinked and asked softly, his voice still amazed, "Are you saying- if I love you- if I am IN love with you- you will allow yourself to try and fall in love with me?"

Sherlock took a breath, his hands fisting at his sides and his knuckles popping before he gave one sharp nod and looked to his friend with hard eyes. John looked to the bed, his eyes scanning again and his brow furrowing in yet another bought of shock.

"You'd allow sentiment into your mind for me?"

Sherlock spoke softly, "If you say you love me, if you mean it- I will let go. I will- I will give in and allow my heart out of the room I've locked it in."

John continued to stare at the bed, "But John-" the blonde finally looked to his friend and in Sherlock's eyes he saw a kind of desperation he had never seen before, his eyes nearly wincing closed, "If you want this from me- you must not hurt me. Unlike you, the chances of me bouncing back are very very slim. Rejection has never been my cup of tea."

John nodded and took a step towards him, his hand coming to cup Sherlock's face, "I'd never intentionally hurt you. You're my best friend. But what you just offered me- you've never offered to anyone else have you." It was a statement and Sherlock shook his head softly.

John seemed to think it over before he locked eyes with the taller man, "Then I accept. Because I have a feeling you've been waiting to do this for an exceptionally long time, you've been hoping for someone-"

"Who understands me." Sherlock finished for him, "Someone with patience, kindness and the strength to handle me at both my worst and best. Only you and Molly Hooper have shown such abilities."

John chuckled at that and nodded, "Poor Molly- she'll be heart broken if she ever hears of this."

John's hand glided down to rest at the back of Sherlock's head, "Not necessarily. I realized just the other day that if you think about it she would be the perfect partner for both of us."

John's eyes grew wide and he shook his head, "Jesus-"

"I just meant-"

"I know what you meant Sherlock." John pulled away from him and turned towards the bed, "John I'm sorry- I didn't mean- it just came out and I didn't mean to-" John had turned back around and came up to Sherlock, kissing him softly, "Enough love, come to bed."

"You still haven't answered my question." Sherlock murmured against his lips.

"You already know it Mr. I-bloody-know-everything."

"Not everything." Sherlock said petulently.

"Come to bed."

"But-"

"Alright, you need me to say it, I suppose I can say it once- so listen carefully and shut up." his voice wasn't mean or cruel but it held a tone that wouldn't allow Sherlock to rebuke.

"Sherlock, I- I love you. I've loved you for a very long time. My inclination is towards women, so being with you was never really an option. But after everything you've done for me- somehow- I'm not sure how- it suddenly became an option. I just don't think orientation really plays a role in whatever this is. I'd NEVER want to be with another man, the very idea repels me. Makes me feel sick- but for some reason being with you- it just doesn't. I stand by what I've said before- I'm not gay. But I think whatever this is between us- it goes beyond the idea of gay or straight. I simply love you, and it just doesn't concern me that you aren't a woman. Do you understand now?"

Sherlock nodded quickly and started to shuck his clothes, "Thank God." John said with a groan of relief.

Seconds later they were both naked and Sherlock was pressing his back into John's chest. He was already spreading his cheeks and trying to press onto John's swollen length.

"Easy mate. Wait- I've got something, trust me you'll want it." John pulled some lube out of the beside table and at Sherlock's surprised face he shrugged, "I was hopeful."

He quickly lobbed up his cock and then used two fingers to slather the sticky liquid around Sherlock's hole.

"It's been a bit, so we go easy, yeah?"

Sherlock said nothing, he only nodded and braced for John to enter. Both men were hard at this point and as John aligned himself with Sherlock's arse he wrapped his arm under his companion and across his chest, his other hand gripping Sherlock's hips, "Are you ready for me?" Sherlock nodded eagerly, more than ready to feel the similar rush he had from his previous encounter with John.

The good doctor slowly started to push in and Sherlock groaned, "Yes-" he said and John held him tighter, to the point Sherlock could barely move.

"Your going to take it all." John whispered and Sherlock nodded again, his teeth clenching and his nostrils flaring with each deep breath, "Say it Sherlock-"

"I will, I'll take it all." Sherlock said feeling a blush rise to his cheeks, "Good love, that's good."

Soon enough John was all the way in, his hip bones pressing into Sherlock's arse.

"God, still so tight. I want this always, always."

Sherlock took a deep breath before more pants sputtered out of him, "Easy love. Easy. You ready?"

"Yes." his voice came out in a breathy pant and John didn't hesitate to reach around and start to stroke Sherlock's already weeping cock.

"Here we go." John cooed and he started moving in and out with slo deliberately soft strokes.

"I love being inside you. I love you, god I love you Sherlock."

For the first time in his life someone told him they loved him and for the first time he actually believed it. He felt a door in his mind palace crack, the hinges ripping free.

"I love you, I love you, I love you-" John kept whispering into his ear as he thrust in and out with more force.

The door was blown open then, an explosion that made Sherlock jerk and his hands come up to grip his head.

"Sherlock! What is it! Did I hurt you-" the detective let out a sob and John pulled out slowly before he rolled Sherlock over to look at him, "Shite! No! I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"I- I love you too?" Sherlock barked out between sobs and shaky breaths. The question in his voice made John give a look of confusion. Sherlock's hand flew to his chest where a large ache was building, "Ah! Fuck!"

"Sherlock! Talk to me Sherlock, what do you need!"

In an instant Sherlock gripped John's face and pulled him into a very aggressive kiss. "I love you." he growled as he pulled back, "I love you!" he said against as he pressed John onto his back and moved to sit on top of him, he took John's cock in hand and positioned it at his entrance. John sat up in shock, "Sherlock- wait- this position isn't for beginners- aaah- ah!"

Sherlock was already sinking down and when John was fully engulfed inside of his friend Sherlock leaned down, reminding John of a cat with his grace and poise.

"I'm ready to take it all John." Sherlock nearly cooed and John licked his lips as his hands came to rest on Sherlock's hips.

"Then you will." Sherlock rode John for nearly ten minutes, sweat pouring off him and down his back. At some point John gave a grunt and flipped him, pushing Sherlock onto his belly before he came to lay down over the man's back and taking hold of his wrists, holding them secure by Sherlock's head. He slid back in and rutted against Sherlock for another ten minutes before he felt Sherlock stiffen and the man's muscles contract harshly around his cock. John fell over as well, squirting into Sherlock and loading him with his fluid.

John lay atop his companion for a long time, his hard cock still lodged deep inside. Sherlock moaned and John ground his hips into Sherlock's backside.

"Oh god please-" Sherlock very nearly whined, "I'll stay in as long as I want. And you'll enjoy it, yeah?" John said as he kissed Sherlock's shoulder his teasing tone holding an air of command though it was soft and gentle.

"Yes." Sherlock said petulently but it was more out of sexual frustration than wanting John to be out of him.

John remained on top of him and pressed deep into Sherlock's arse until his cock held no more traces of its hard rigied girth. When he rolled off he came to lay on his back and Sherlock, for the first time, scooted close to John on his own. He leaned his head against the nook of John's shoulder and chest. John's arm dropped over his shoulder and gentle fingers caressed the taller man's collar bone.

The remained silent for nearly half an hour before John cleared his throat, "So-"

"Yes?" Sherlock asked softly as he dropped his hands from their so common steepled position and glanced to join out of the corner of his eyes.

"Not that I am trying to- well I was just curious- we never really finished that conversation you starred earlier-"

"Mmm, which one?"

"Uhm- about Molly Hooper."

Sherlock's response was to cock an eye brow and roll his shoulders, "Ah. Yes, all I was trying to say is that if you think about it- you and I together would be everything she had ever wanted. She loved me for my cold harsh intellect, my clever observations and my foreboding presence. As well as my duel nature to both complement as well as insult anyone at any given time."

"Yeah, that's why she loves you-" John said sarcastically.

"Right. But while she loves me I have in the past been unable to be more for her because of my inability to handle sentiment. That's where you'd come in. I'd be her intellectual equal, giving her the mental stimulus and intellectual challenges she craves and you would be her emotional support. Giving her the love, compassion and kindness. You could take her on dates, I could take her on cases and we both could-"

"Whoa! Both of us? Are you suggesting-"

"Not suggesting. I've just realized that if you and I were to keep this companionship we've agreed to up, but you find you'd still like the company of a lady- that I might enjoy taking someone instead of being taken- Molly is the most perfect choice. She'd sate both our needs be they physical, mental or other."

"Other?"

"She cooks really really well."

Silence greeted them again and then John drew a circle around Sherlock's nipple as he mused, "So, uh- you want to- bring her in?"

Sherlock glanced up to him again, "Yup." he popped the P and John smiled.

"You really think She'd be interested?"

Sherlock sat up as John swung his legs out of the bed, "I do believe Miss. Hooper would be more than ready and exceedingly capable, and in all honesty I think she would savour the opportunity to be the object of my affections while still getting to wine and dine with a close- personal- friend."

"This is nuts. You realize that don't you? My wife died and I've gone off the deep end. I've gone round the bed, I'm crazy-"

"Now John, you of all people should know you can't go someplace you've been all your life."

They looked at each other before John started to laugh and soon Sherlock joined him. This was the beginning of something absolutely beautiful.

The end.

R&R let me know what you think. Also, couldn't help shipping some johnlollylock. Lmfao