Thank you all for staying with me all the way to the end. All of your support has been amazing, just amazing. I have put all my heart and soul into this story and really did my best. Final chapter fan girls, boys, and those who have yet to make up their minds :)

Disclaimer: don't own, except for this plot line.

Warning: JohnLock sexytimes ahead.

-Mycroft's agents heaved the groaning man up and out of their home, out of their lives.

The room was still and silent but for the two men's panting breaths.

"He's gone you know. Never coming back. Mycroft will take care of that," Sherlock said finally.

John smiled warmly and held out his arms. Sherlock immediately fell into the embrace.

"I know," John whispered the words with awe.

John leaned back and took Sherlock's head in his hands.

"Do you know what this means?" John smiled and his eyes filled with tears. "I'm free. Sherlock I'm finally free." He leaned their foreheads together and stared into that pale blue gaze.

"I'm free," John chuckled lightly, "God, I haven't felt this way in years. Even when he was in jail it was always haunting me, there was always the chance of him coming back." He leaned in to kiss Sherlock tenderly.

"It's like I had these chains wrapped around my body and my mind and my heart and my soul. And any move I made was so constricted, I felt like I couldn't breathe, I felt weighed down and trapped. I felt locked in this cage, but I could see-" a choked noise forced its way out. "-I could see exactly what I wanted but I couldn't get to it. I could just reach it, just touch it Sherlock, but I couldn't have it. Like I was me- but I wasn't. It was horrible. I kept trying to escape, to run away. But it never ended. I was trapped," John took a deep breath before continuing.

"But now I feel lighter. The chains have released me. I'm no longer imprisoned inside myself," John smiled again. "For the first time I'm just me, I'm just me without anything else haunting me…. I. Am. Free."

Sherlock silently held his army doctor through this revelation and stared into his sapphire blue depths.

"There is one last thing I'd like to do, to sort of cleanse myself of it once and for all, get rid of the last chain so to speak. Could you help me?" John stroked Sherlock's face; he was starting to get a bit worried, as Sherlock had been nearly completely soundless this whole time.

John continued, "I really want to take a shower; wash… well just wash. I'd really like you to join me, if you want to?"

"Yes," came the reply, hoarse with emotion, "I'd like that."

~o0o~

John led Sherlock to their bathroom. He turned on the taps and let the steam fill the room. Then he stripped and entered the shower. He looked expectantly at Sherlock.

"Just, give me a moment. I'll be right back," Sherlock said but waited till John nodded and slid behind the curtain to leave. He snatched up John's clothes and quickly dashed to the kitchen.

Sherlock couldn't stop his mind from observing every detail about the clothes: the blood smears, the saliva stains, the flakes of skin in areas, the scuff marks on the shoes, the sweat that wasn't John's. Over and over these details raced around in his head. He knew he could never look at these clothes again and not remember every single detail of what happened… even though he hadn't been there for most of it. So he shoved them in a trash bag and threw them out the window straight into the bin. He would buy John some new ones, nicer ones of course, and better fitting. Sherlock already had mapped out which shops (Harrod's store or Saville Road maybe) to get them by the time he had returned to the shower and stripped.

John was standing under the water, looking completely at peace. A waterfall of liquid rushed in rivulets over his golden body; each drop cleansing as they worked their way down. Sherlock's breath caught in his chest at the beauty and just for a second his mind stopped calculating and he just felt.

Sherlock slipped in behind John, chest to back, and wrapped his arms around to rest against John's stomach. John tipped his head back to rest against Sherlock's shoulder. They stayed just like that for a while.

At some point John put a soapy cloth into Sherlock's hand and they washed him together, fingers woven like a basket. They moved the cloth in gentle, circling motions, little trails of purifying bubbles left in the wake. Sherlock placed small kisses into John's hair, luxuriating in the smell of 'John' again.

John stepped into the spray and watched as the suds slid down his body and into the drain. Ahh, the final step was complete, the final bond broken. John was clean, and new, and free.

John turned himself around in Sherlock's arms so they were face to face. Their eyes said everything they couldn't: thank you, I thought I'd lost you, I love you, don't leave me, we're safe now, and so much more. They kissed softly, languidly, just kissed until the hot water ran out.

"Bed?" John asked simply.

Sherlock nodded. John turned the shower off and they got out and dried each other off slowly, not rushing, but each touch like fire shooting straight to intimate places and to deep corners of hearts.

When they got to bed Sherlock slithered his body on top of John's. He tried to ignore what his mind kept deducing from every mark on John's body: the bites and the bruises and the cuts. Tried to ignore that another man had touched his John.

"What's wrong love?" John could tell immediately Sherlock was upset.

Then Sherlock had an idea. John had done his cleansing ritual and now Sherlock needed one last thing to help erase, or at least calm, this from his mind.

"I- I can't stop my mind, it just keeps going at a thousand kilometers an hour. I can see everything and I hate it. I- I need to-" Sherlock couldn't get the words out, couldn't even explain.

"Oh." John's face softened and he brushed a curl from Sherlock's forehead. Of course he figured it out, Sherlock was his other half; "Your eidetic memory is 'haunting' you, so to speak. And the only way you can stop yourself from seeing images that hurt you is to 'delete' them or 'override' them."

"Yes," Sherlock whispered.

"Anything for you Sherlock," John's voice was equally hushed.

They kissed before Sherlock started his cleanse. He found the first bite mark on John's neck right below his ear. Sherlock brought his lips down gently, he swirled his tongue across the sensitive skin. He suckled it just enough to mark it as his own, to erase Chris from John's skin but not hurt John.

He continued down. He repeated the actions at the bite marks on John's collarbone, near his nipple, the middle of his chest. He erased Christopher's presence, he reclaimed them as his own, and he cleansed John's skin with his tongue and poured his love into the man until John was moaning and writhing at the sensation and the emotion.

"Where else?"

John knew he had to let Sherlock finish before they could succumb to their need for each other. John held out his fingers.

Sherlock kissed each torn, scratched, and cut finger.

John pointed to the bruise on his stomach. Sherlock licked his way across it, infusing himself into John's skin.

John pointed to his legs, where Chris had dragged him back. Sherlock caressed them and worshipped them.

Finally John pointed to his groin. Sherlock wove his fingers through John's then bent his head down to place tender butterfly kisses on his lower belly. John was moaning Sherlock's name and both were now completely hard. Sherlock nuzzled against John's arousal like a cat before licking it in long deep strokes.

"Sherlock! I need you now. Please, love."

Sherlock moved back up to John's head and gave him a passionate kiss. "Mine," he growled devotedly.

"As you are mine," John replied.

Their lips met in another deep kiss that sent fire down their spines. Sherlock found the lube on the nightstand and slicked himself up. Then he slid inside John's tight heat, so wonderfully, absolutely surrounded by John. They both groaned loudly into their kiss.

Sherlock thrust slowly and deeply. He wanted this feeling to last forever. They kept kissing for as long as they had breath, and then they just stared into each other's eyes as they gasped and panted. The sweet tingles when they brushed together electrified their beings and their hearts felt full to burst with emotion.

When Sherlock felt the build of pressure in his belly and the tingle in his thighs he reached down between them to grab John's hardness and stroke.

"Sherlock! Anh! I love you Sherlock. I love you. Ahhh!"

"I love you John, my John. Only you. My sweet John," Sherlock said between kisses against John's lips, his eyelids, his cheeks, and his forehead.

With one last stroke and thrust John came; his aftershocks squeezed around Sherlock so deliciously and he released himself as deep inside John as he could. He collapsed on John's chest and felt arms drape across his back. He lifted his lips enough to make one last love mark very softly, this one all his own, right over John's heart. Then lay his head down to listen to the sweet 'thump thump' and John kissed his raven curls before they fell into a deep sleep.

They held one another close that night; so close you could hardly tell where one ended and the other began.

~~Epilogue~~

Sherlock decided to make good on his promise and snuck out to the shops a few weeks later to replace John's clothes.

He found a lovely cobalt cashmere jumper, much more form fitting than John's usual ones; well, it was simply the proper size. Sherlock couldn't wait to see John in it, the color bringing out his eyes, the form fit accenting his muscles, the V showing John's stunning tan neck. Sherlock licked his lips. He also found a pair of tan khakis and some sturdier shoes that would hold up better running around London.

He was on his way back when a glint from a shop window caught his eye. He stopped to see what the silvery flash was and came upon a display full of men's wedding rings. He immediately went on his way, because no, he couldn't… could he? He wasn't the marrying type right? And would John even want…?

But there was that time the woman from the Department Store Murders kept flirting with John. And all the looks he saw women give John when they were out. And that case at the gay bar, well, Sherlock was not happy during that case. A ring might fix that… show the world that John was his and he was John's. And after all they'd been through…

…It was something to think about.

I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts about the final chapter, and the story, so reviews are very welcome. There is a sequel in the works (in my head so far), more fluffy and lighthearted but of course I can't seem to write without some action and angst ;) so fear not. And it will continue with the thought Sherlock left off at hehe. I'd love to hear if people are interested in this sequel.

Thank you so much for reading, I am truly honored that you chose to read my story :)