The server came by with a large silver basin and kettle, which he set in the centre of the table. Picking up the kettle, he waved encouragingly to John and Sherlock.

John placed his hands over the basin. "This is to wash our hands before the meal." Sherlock copied him, and the server poured warm rose water over their hands, as they rubbed them together. John dried his hands with the towel provided, and passed it to Sherlock afterwards.

"Have you ever eaten Moroccan food before?" John asked, shifting on the low upholstered seat to be a little closer to Sherlock.

It didn't feel like they were in central London. The restaurant was dimly lit, with ornate metal lanterns overhead and candles on the tables. Intricate wood screens divided the space into more intimate pockets. The walls were painted a soft orange that contrasted beautifully with the dark woodwork.

Sherlock shook his head. "Is it like Lebanese cuisine?"

Taking his hand, John played with Sherlock's long fingers. It was still an adjustment when he did things like that, a zing of awareness and desire tingling through Sherlock.

"Not really. I'd recommend trying the tagine here. It has chicken and sweet potatoes, cooked slowly with cinnamon and other spices." John seemed relaxed and happy, sipping some white wine.

Their server came back, and they placed their order.

John shifted even closer to Sherlock. "I couldn't stop thinking about you today." His breath was warm on Sherlock's ear.

"Oh really?" Daringly, Sherlock shifted his hand to rest it on John's thigh, feeling it's warmth through the dark denim. It was still a thrill to be allowed to touch casually like this. "And what were you thinking?"

Leaning closer, John kissed Sherlock near his ear. "How much I wanted to spend an hour or two just worshipping your neck." He nuzzled in, dragging his cheek over Sherlock's skin before planting a small kiss down a few inches.

A shudder ran through Sherlock, and his hand slipped to John's inner thigh, playing along the inner seam. It was tempting to slide his hand up further, but they were in a public place. "You should do that when we get home."

Their meal came shortly, and when the server theatrically removed the cone shaped ceramic lid, the wonderful aroma of the sweet and savoury stew made them both sit up in interest.

John chuckled as he showed Sherlock how to eat cous cous using his right hand only. "Just pick up a smaller amount, and kind of toss it on your cupped fingers until it's a little ball." He demonstrated, and tossed the loose clump into his mouth.

Sherlock tried to copy him, but ended up with the small spheres all over his hand. "Hmmm. Maybe I should stick to the potato and meat."

"Don't worry about it. They bring the water around afterwards to wash our hands again." John scooped up some date and chicken with a small piece of bread, looking like a natural.

Something about that just made Sherlock's mood drop a little, and he ate quietly, letting John dominate the conversation, encouraging him to talk about the clinic.

When they got home later, John pulled Sherlock down onto the sofa. "Something was off for you tonight. You seemed happy at first, but you got quieter in the last half of the meal. Did you not like the food? The company?"

Things had been a lot more open between them since doing the questions together. They were more willing to discuss things like this now, and Sherlock gave John a quick hug.

"It was a beautiful restaurant, and good food..." Sherlock started, not sure how to put his feelings into words.

John nodded encouragingly. "But..."

Sherlock sighed. "But...I watched how good you were, eating with your hands, and I wondered how many other dates you had brought to that restaurant over the years."

Cringing slightly, John took Sherlock's hand. "You know this feels so much different than anyone else I've dated."

"Because I'm a man." Sherlock said flatly.

John squeezed his hand lightly. "Yes, but because you are a good friend. Someone I care about so much already."

"I get that, but I still...," Sherlock sighed in frustration. "I don't know. I guess I wonder if you are taking me to your favorite date places, places you have been with others."

John seemed puzzled, and took a few moments to think about it. He still played with Sherlock's hand, the small strokes making him feel that low buzz of awareness between them.

"I don't know what we can do about that, Sherlock. I've dated a lot of women over the years, been all over London with them." John shrugged.

"It's haunted by ghosts of your past girlfriends." Sherlock chuckled, trying to lighten the mood a little.

John shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Sherlock's lower back. "Are you also a bit nervous about people seeing us out together? Looking like we are on a date?" He had noticed Sherlock didn't seem to like holding hands when they were out on the street.

Sherlock sighed again. "I'm sorry, but I feel a little uncomfortable with it. We are recognized sometimes, and what if things don't work out between us? It wouldn't be good to look like a couple until we feel more secure in this."

John understood, nodding. "OK, I hear you. Let's keep the PDA low for now, and I'll try to take you places I haven't taken dates before."

"Sorry for being like this." Sherlock didn't want to seem too demanding on their dates either. It was fantastic spending time with John, in the way he'd dreamed of so long.

Leaning closer, John gave him a light kiss. "You are so, so worth it."

Grabbing John, Sherlock kissed him harder, and they both got into it. Soon, Sherlock was lying on the sofa with John on top of him, kissing down his neck the way he had promised earlier.

The chemistry between them was undeniable, and Sherlock gasped as he felt John push a leg between his. Hardness nudged against his thigh, and he knew John was just as aroused by all this as he was.

Still, thoughts were whirling through his head. "Um...John...," he said softly, running a hand down John's back.

Tilting his face upwards, Sherlock was struck by seeing John like this. His hair a little messy, his eyes dark, aroused. Gorgeous. "Hmmm?"

"How did you get the nickname 'Three Continents Watson'?" Sherlock had heard Mike teasing John about this when they were all out together months ago.

John chuckled. "It's just something dumb. Army humor. Mike must have heard stuff about me from some common friends."

That didn't really answer the question. "So, it's from being ...intimate...with women from three different continents?"

Pulling back a little, John looked at Sherlock questionly. "Well, with women in the British army, not locals, in different places. It's just a joke."

"Which continents?"

John gave a half-laugh. "Um...Europe, Asia, and Africa."

Sherlock pondered this. "Afghanistan is in Asia. When were you in Africa?"

"I went on leave to Egypt with a friend once." John gave Sherlock a long look. "Does my past bother you?"

As much as he wanted to say it didn't, Sherlock eventually had to nod. "I'm sorry. I'm not judging you. I don't know why I keep thinking about this."

"Well, you aren't alone. I keep thinking about what you said in that 4 minute description of your life. You mentioned that your twenties were a blur of sex and drugs." John admitted.

They both sat up, cuddling together on the sofa, the mood a bit spoiled now.

Sherlock ran his hand through his hair. "I don't really remember a lot of it that clearly, John. I was high during most of it. It was just another way to escape reality."

"Was it with only men? Or women also?" John asked.

Sherlock sighed. "Mostly men." He turned towards John. "We both have our pasts. We obviously can't just erase them and start fresh. We have to accept that and move on."

"Maybe we could go away together, somewhere neither of us has been before. It wouldn't be haunted by my old girlfriends and we wouldn't be as well known." John said, half-joking.

"That's a great thought." He smirked a little, an idea popping into his head. "Hmmm...maybe we could make you into 'Four Continents Watson' by the end of the trip."

They both laughed hard at that, and John grabbed his laptop. They scrolled through a few travel websites. The flight times were too long for Australia or South America. Antarctica was too remote.

"Mexico, USA, or Canada?" John asked, looking at a map of North America.

Sherlock's green eyes scanned over the image. "Well, I'm not really a beach guy, and don't want to hang around in huge malls with stupid people. So Canada?"

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's impression of Americans. He zoomed the picture of Canada to fill the screen. "OK, which part?" He'd never been to that country before.

Closing his eyes, Sherlock waved his long fingers over the screen, and then pointed.

His finger had landed on a place in the eastern half of the country. John moved his hand away, and peered closer, reading out the city.

Sherlock nodded. "Well, I doubt your blog has a huge readership there. We can probably walk around without being recognized."

John was scrolling through some pictures. "It looks beautiful. Are we really going to do this?"

Leaning in, Sherlock gave him a quick kiss. "I think it will be great. A week or so, just the two of us. We can concentrate on just spending time together, getting used to being a couple. Seeing if it all works."

"If you told me a month ago that I'd be planning a romantic holiday with you to Canada, I would have thought you were mental." John leaned in for another kiss. "Now I just think you're brilliant."

Sherlock chuckled. "You always think I'm brilliant."

"Brilliant, gorgeous and sexy as fuck." John pushed Sherlock back down in the sofa, crawling over him to kiss him senseless.

XXX

-Disclaimer: I own nothing.

-A/N: Yeah, I want to explore the friends to lovers story a little more. Thanks for giving this a try. More to come soon. :D