6. And the One He Gave Back

Thoroughly startled, John pulled away. "You know about...?"

"Of course I know," Sherlock answered, leaning forward to continue the embrace. He said softly, placing kisses along John's jaw towards his lips, "I saw how you kept looking at my uncovered neck whenever we were outside. The guilt was all over you; you might as well have held up a sign."

John was frozen with mortification.

Sherlock seemed to be enjoying himself. He pressed his mouth against John's, moving sensuously until he spoke again. "I do have other scarves, you know. But I enjoyed watching you stare at my neck. It was like you couldn't decide if you wanted to wrap the scarf around me or devour me. I did everything I could to encourage you to do the latter: precisely nine different maneuvers, in fact. When nothing worked I decided to take matters into my own hands. I believe the next step is to suggest that we retire to the bedroom?"

Later, after awkward unveiling, shy explorations, whispered pleas, and desperate shuddering cries, they held each other in darkness.

John extracted himself from the gangly white arms and legs, dropped a kiss on Sherlock's cheek, left the room. Minutes later he returned with a glass of water and one hand behind his back. After Sherlock drank the water and placed the empty glass on the nightstand, John revealed what he had been holding. He offered the blue scarf.

Sherlock laughed. "If you like it so much, why don't you keep it? I'm rather fond of the idea of our clothing mingling together in your dresser drawers."

"No thank you," John smiled, not bothering to ask how Sherlock knew where he had stored it. He threaded the scarf around Sherlock's neck. "I like it better on you."

It wasn't the scarf that was so dear to him, John realized, but the person wearing it. He could happily return the one now that he had the other.