A/N: This is it, the last chapter. I'm doing this before I go to bed because I won't have time to do it tomorrow with all the cleaning and shopping I have to do for my husband's birthday party.

I hope you guys have enjoyed this wild ride with me. I'm always sad when a story comes to a close, but coming up next is a Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries crossover with Sherlock set in the 1920s. Then at long last the sequel to Death and Youth. Then for a treat, a fusion with the movie 10 Things I Hate About You starring the Holmes brothers as Kat and Bianca. I also have 20 billion other ideas swirling around in my head. Including one I came up with today, a fusion with The Wizard of Oz.

This is where the story earns its newly minted mature rating. If that's not your thing, skip down to the first line break and you won't be missing anything other than sexy times. Though why you'd want to...*shrug*

Thanks as always to my chief cheerleader, friend, and best beta on the planet, Old Ping Hai. Seriously though. If you guys liked this story, you should thank her, too. It would have never been finished without her.

It was too damn hot to live, let alone move. The unfortunate thing was that the criminal classes thought the same thing and there hadn't been a decent case in weeks. Which left Sherlock cranky and irritable. Worse, it left him bored. And that meant hell for literally everyone else.

John was coming back from the shops when he heard the first shot. He ran up the stairs fearing the worst. While it wasn't death and destruction, it was Sherlock shooting at the walls, and that's bad enough.

"What the hell, Sherlock!" John yelled, and slammed the door behind him.

"Bored!" Sherlock shot at the wall again, this time from behind his back.

John disarmed him with a deft movement and then proceeded to empty the clip and chamber.

"What did the wall do to you?"

"Oh," Sherlock murmured, walking across the floor to step on the coffee table and over to the sofa where he traced the bullet holes with his finger. "The wall had it coming."

"Mrs Hudson is going to give you hell for that," John reminded him as he put away his pistol.

Sherlock flopped on the sofa gracefully, his silk robe fluttering around him. "Bored!"

"I got the ice lollies you like," John said hopefully as he turned around and stopped. He finally took in his lover. Sherlock was wearing his robe and it seemed very little else. The robe sought the floor and the one side had slid off Sherlock's shoulder, revealing a "V" of pale skin, his nipple barely peeking from the swath of fabric.

John licked his lip and gulped hard.

"Why is it so hot?" Sherlock complained. "Oh my god!" One hand fell to the floor, while the other he draped dramatically over his eyes like a swooning maiden. He lifted his knee and the bottom length of the robe dove to the ground exposing the long line of his legs and a hint of the black pants he wore.

Sherlock was the very image of sin and John ached for a taste.

Sherlock moved his hand off his eyes and looked at John, confused. He had been expecting to get some kind of pity from John, but when there was silence he looked up. "What?"

John's head snapped up, caught out. Sherlock's gaze turned calculating and then to outright smoldering. John never stood a chance.

Sherlock untied the belt and the rest of the robe drooped gracefully to the floor. Sherlock's entire right side was uncovered, as the sleeve pooled at his wrist.

John took a step forward.

Sherlock ran his other hand down his chest and over his abdomen to stop just above the band of his pants.

John took another step forward like a moth being drawn to a flame.

Sherlock sat up and shrugged his other arm out of the robe and moved the rest of it to the side. He threw his head back and moaned.

John dropped to his knees. He was mere feet away from his love, but his legs wouldn't support him anymore. So he prowled toward Sherlock like a tiger hunting its prey. Sherlock moaned again and John gave up prowling for an ungainly half-scramble. He stopped at the edge of the sofa and ran his hands over Sherlock's thighs, breathing heavily.

"Oh you beautiful creature," he murmured. "I'm going to make you feel so good."

"John!" Sherlock screamed as John's hands reached the edge of his pants.

John grabbed the band of the underwear and pulled them completely off, Sherlock bucking his hips to aid in the process. Once the pants were gone, John buried his face into Sherlock's crotch.

Sherlock's hips bucked for an entirely different reason. John rose with the movement, taking his lover's cock into his mouth.

"John!"

The doctor slipped off his cock with a small slurp.

"Please!" Sherlock begged. "I need you up here."

John kissed his thigh and stood up. He undressed as quickly as he could and then crawled up the sofa between Sherlock's legs.

Sherlock threw back his head and groaned. John took that opportunity to place a kiss on that beautiful neck. Sherlock sighed happily as John ground down, finally getting the friction he'd been seeking. He wrapped his arms around John and pulled him down so that they were flush together.

John let out a small chuckle. "I love you, too. But this position doesn't allow for much movement." He rolled his hips to drive the point home.

Sherlock moaned, one hand grasping the back of John's neck and his other running up and down John's arm.

John's eyebrows shot up. "I'm guessing at this point you don't need much to get off?"

"Please, John. Don't tease."

John kissed him. "Never, darling." He buried his head into Sherlock's throat and began sucking as he repeated the movement with his hips. Undulating and writhing, they panted and moaned, their pleasure making them breathless with want and need.

Sherlock came with John's name on his lips, the doctor kissing him through his release.

"Stunning, just absolutely stunning," John gasped. "Turn over, love." He moved back so that Sherlock could hasten to obey, arse in the air.

John had to stop for a moment. The sight before him was glorious. Those gorgeous globes just begging to be fondled.

John grabbed that arse and moved his cock between them. Sherlock and John groaning together. While John took his pleasure, Sherlock worked on opening his hole, using his come and sweat to prepare himself for John.

"Ready, dearest?" John asked as he was nearing his own climax.

"Yes," came the breathy reply.

John pressed in and bit off a curse. Sherlock was so tight he nearly came, and even then all it took was a few well timed thrusts and John was coming inside of his lover. They collapsed on the sofa, twisting to twine around each other on the narrow surface.

"Hmm," Sherlock murmured into John's ear. "That was a good cure for the boredom, but I'm hotter than ever!"

John chuckled. "Mhmm, but there's always a cold shower to get both clean and cool."

Sherlock was up like shot, dumping John on the floor. He was nearly to bathroom when he called over his shoulder, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

John chuckled and got up. He cleaned up their mess of clothes and he smiled when he heard the shower turn on. He picked up the ice lollies and put them in the ice box, then finally made his way to the bathroom. He felt happier than he had in ages.

It was Christmas again and John couldn't believe what a year it had been. If someone had told him back then that this year he would be in a relationship with a completely mad detective, he would have laughed, then punched them.

He had been so sure that Mary was the one. So certain that the wedding he would attend was his own. Maybe Mike's, but not Greg's. He had become friends with the Detective Inspector. In fact, he had several police friends. He had a new life now. He was still friends with Mike and Divya. Molly, too. But he had new friends, people that he never thought that he would be friends with. Like the one that had gone from flatmate to friend, and finally lover. A mad man called Sherlock Holmes.

Greg, Mycroft, Sally, Phil. It was funny actually. Molly seemed to bridge both sets of friends. She had come out of her shell in the last year. She even had a couple of boyfriends. One turned out to be gay and the other was a poor man's Sherlock Holmes, so frankly no one was surprised when that blew up in her face.

She was going to bring her latest boyfriend to the Christmas party. John really hoped this one was a keeper. He wanted her to be as happy with this new fellow as he was with Sherlock. Not that he thought that was possible.

John was out doing the last part of his Christmas shopping. Normally he didn't let it get this close to Christmas, but this gift was special. It was for Sherlock. He was coming out of the shop when he ran into the last person he expected to see. Mary. She was arm in arm with David, clearly at least four months pregnant.

"Mary!" The words were out of John's mouth before he could stop them.

She looked over, but recognition never lit her features.

"John, John Watson," he helpfully supplied.

That's when it hit her and her eyes went wide.

"Didn't you recognize me?" John goaded.

She shook her head.

"It's been a year," John said. "It doesn't surprise me."

"You look good," Mary said and David glared at her.

John laughed. "I feel good," he agreed.

"You seeing anyone?" she asked. David kicked her ankle. She turned to him, incredulous. "What? I'm just asking."

"Oh yeah, I'm seeing someone," John replied with a smirk.

Mary hissed "See?" David looked down sheepishly, feeling a rush of relief.

John's phone beeped signaling he got a call.

"Speak of the devil," John said with a laugh. "Hello, love. You know where I am, you berk. I'm getting your present. Oh I don't know, how about you decorate the flat? If you're good, I'll bring home some real holly and mistletoe for you to experiment with once the people have gone. See? Now was that so hard? Of course it was. Love you, too." He hung up the phone. Mary and David were staring at John like he'd gone around the bend.

"That's Sherlock for you," John explained, phone still in his hand.

"Sherlock?" David asked, sneering. "That skinny kid that had a crush on you last Christmas?"

John laughed rocking back on his heels. "He's hardly a child; he's thirty. But yes, him." He was suddenly buzzing with joy and excitement.

Mary's face took on a pitying expression. "Oh, John." She reached out to touch his arm.

"You tore me apart, Mary," John said, taking a step back to avoid her grasp. "But you'll never fool me again. I know what love looks like now."

He went searching through his phone and then turned it so they could see. It was a photo that Greg had snapped while they were on some case or another.

John's back was to the camera, but Sherlock's face was in sharp relief. This was the face of a lover with fire in his heart. David and Mary gasped. There was no doubt that Sherlock loved John.

"That's what I have now."

John turned and walked away, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

The party was going better than expected, Sherlock thought. John promising that he could test the toxicity of the holly versus the mistletoe, and that wasn't even his present, had kept his mouth from running too far. He had John's present in his breast pocket and it was making him nervous.

Sherlock went to top off his drink in the kitchen. He was grateful that it was empty of guests as he filled his drink and downed it in one go. He slammed it on the counter, gripping the glass tightly.

"Someone's nervous," Mike said from the doorway.

Sherlock whirled around. "Oh God, if you've noticed then he has too!"

"Nah," Mike said, coming further into the room. "It doesn't show when you're out there." He tossed his head the direction of the party.

"Thank goodness." Sherlock turned around and filled his glass again.

"Good idea of John's to have the party here," Mike said, changing the subject. "Not much of a chance of random people showing up. They'd have to go through Mrs Hudson and she's more formidable than a measly blizzard." Sherlock chuckled. "Though, party crashing worked well enough for you."

Sherlock turned around to face the chubby doctor. "My whole life has changed, and I just want to thank him."

Mike indicated to Sherlock's breast pocket. "That's a good place to start."

Sherlock looked away shyly. "Do you think he'll say yes?"

Mike looked over his shoulder and then back at Sherlock. "You like experiments, yeah?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Text him. It could be anything. Just text him."

Sherlock got out his phone and sent off a message.

"Now come here, watch his face," Mike directed. Sherlock walked out to stand by the door.

John got out his phone with a frown, and then his face lit up. He smiled warmly at his phone, before looking around for Sherlock.

John mouthed when he found him, "I love you, too."

Sherlock was struck by how that simple gesture warmed his chest more than the whiskey he had just downed.

"The answer is yes," Mike said. Sherlock looked up at him sharply.

"Of course he's going to say yes, Sherlock," Mike said. "Now go get him." He thumped Sherlock on the back and stood to the side to let Sherlock pass.

Sherlock went out into the crowd. He stopped to give Mrs. Hudson a kiss on the cheek. He nodded to Mycroft, who was talking to Molly's boyfriend, Brandon. He was an artisan glass maker who had his own shop. Molly and Divya were in the corner, chatting about something. When Molly spotted Sherlock she waved her left hand and Sherlock caught a glimpse of metal on her ring finger. He gave her a broad smile, but was secretly grateful that Brandon had asked her before the party, so this moment could be his and John's alone.

Sherlock tapped Greg's shoulder and the Detective Inspector grinned before moving to stand by his husband's side.

Sherlock led John to the center of the room.

"What's this, love?" John asked.

"John Watson," Sherlock began. "You have brought light to my life in ways I never thought possible, but more than your own glow, you are my conductor of light. Everything I thought to be abhorrent: love, sentiment, desire–you have shown me to be the greatest of assets. I was told that I was heartless, but it turns out that you held it in your hands all along." Sherlock cleared his throat and his lower lip quivered ever so. "Will you marry me?" He pulled out the ring and John gasped.

"Yes!" John threw his arms around Sherlock and kissed him soundly.

Sherlock pointed up and John saw that they were under the mistletoe.

"Oh, you bastard," John growled, and snogged his fiance senseless to roaring cheers of their friends.

"Happy Christmas, John."

"Happy Christmas, Sherlock."

That night, when everyone had gone, John gave Sherlock his present.

"I know you got it from Brandon's shop," Sherlock admitted.

"Well, I was never going to hide that from you, so I didn't try." He handed the beautifully wrapped present to Sherlock. Sherlock opened it to find an anatomically-correct heart paperweight.

"John, it's beautiful," Sherlock murmured as he held it to the light.

"It's one of a kind," John explained.

Sherlock's eyes darted around the heart and gasped, "It's yours!"

"Yep, I had Mike and Molly help with the scan and then Brandon turned the scans into art." He snuggled in close to Sherlock. "You gave me your heart with that lovely proposal, and as literally as I could, I gave you mine. I love you so much."

"I love you, too. Forever, John," Sherlock whispered.

Last Christmas, John had given Mary his heart. This year he cast it in glass and asked Sherlock not to break it, physically or metaphorically. And as he watched the colors from the glass light Sherlock's face, John knew that it was in safe hands.