I'm so sorry. It was a combination of things, getting sick, writing a murder mystery for my birthday party, writing a slightly more explicit sex scene than I'm use to, and not wanting this story to be over with.
I just hope this chapter makes up for the super long wait.
Also thanks to my beta, who is, as ever, my rock and very, very good at what she does. Old Ping Hai, you're the best.
John didn't like it. America was where Sherlock's ex was. But as much as he wanted to let his lizard brain take over and tag along with the company during their tour, he had his own touring to do, being on the road for what was going to be a lot of away games with his team. So he was sitting on the bed watching his lover pack for his trip.
Sherlock stopped in the middle of laying out a couple of his suits when he saw John's hangdog expression. "Oh, for Christ's sake, John!" he huffed in frustration. "I'm going to be fine. I'll be too tired to do anything but crash after each performance."
John sighed. "I know, I'm not worried that you'll step out on me or whatever. It's Emilia and Richard and...you know what forget it."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat down next to him. "It's a large country, John. Richard would actually have to give a damn to come to one of my shows, and trust me when I say he doesn't."
John nodded. He knew that. He did. Everything just felt so new between them and leaving like this for several weeks made him nervous.
"And as for the notion that another stalker might come after me, may I remind you that my meddling, interfering, older brother has provided the security for this trip, I doubt I'll be able to sneeze without him knowing." Sherlock bumped his shoulder into John's. "We'll be fine, John," he whispered.
John kissed Sherlock. Soon the kisses turned heated and it was a while before Sherlock returned to his packing.
Because of some mix up or another with Sherlock's flight, it was actually John who ended up leaving on tour first.
Not that that helped John's nerves any.
"I'll be fine," Sherlock impressed upon him for the tenth time since they left their home.
John nodded, but hugged his lover fiercely. "I'll miss you so, so much."
Sherlock indulged John a little and wrapped his arms around the rugby player. "I'll miss you, too."
John kissed Sherlock goodbye before turning and getting on the private jet that would take him far away from the love of his life.
It had been a grueling pace on the road, and in the end they were slaughtered by the German team. John was exhausted. Physically and mentally. All he wanted to do was shower and then crash in their bed. A bed that would be absent of one Sherlock Holmes, who was on the last leg of his summer tour in America.
He was bone-weary tired. That could be the only explanation.
John trudged up the stairs, his sports bag draped over his shoulder. He kicked in the door to the sitting room with his foot, the door had only been partially closed. He threw his bag on the floor and kicked it viciously for good measure.
He wished that he could just curl up with Sherlock and get some much-needed sympathy cuddles. On his way to the kitchen to grab a beer before that much needed shower, he passed a brightly smiling Sherlock holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Hey, Sherlock," John muttered as he shuffled past. He was so focused on the thought of a cool drink he missed the crestfallen expression on Sherlock's face, the lovely meal on the dining room table and the wine chilling next to his beer. He pulled it out and took a sip after popping the lid off. He blinked for a few seconds as his brain finally processed what he had seen.
The beer bottle fell to the floor with a clatter and a splash as John ran back through the dining room and into the sitting room where Sherlock stood, flowers hanging by his side and the most awful hangdog expression John had ever seen.
"Sherlock!" John cried happily as he barreled into his lover.
Sherlock barely managed to stay standing as the bouquet went flying in a hail of petals. He put his arms around John and breathed a sigh of relief.
John kissed him over and over, then swung Sherlock around in his arms, the dancer laughing out loud.
"When did you get home?" John gasped as he finally let Sherlock's feet touch the ground. "I thought you had another week in...California, wasn't it?"
Sherlock nodded, "Our last venue had to be canceled due to faulty wiring, among other things. The spotlights kept shorting. One of the chorus girls was almost crushed by a sandbag weight that had snapped its tether."
"Fuck," John breathed. "Anyone I know?"
Sherlock shook his head, "She's fine, just frightened. That was the last straw for Lestrade, actually."
"That doesn't sound like a place that he would have chosen to begin with," John said with a frown.
"It had changed hands since he signed the contract. The new owners had been cutting corners wherever they could."
"Well, their loss is my gain," John said as he nuzzled Sherlock's neck.
Sherlock chuckled. "Enough about me, I saw that last match...are you all right?"
John looked up into his lover's concerned expression and just had to kiss him again. "I'm not sure what was more soul crushing, the fact that they were the better team or that the referees were actively trying to slant the game in our favor and we still lost."
Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist and drew him in close. "Their scrum line was as big as their props, so they ended up literally bowling you over."
John nodded. He was done for the season and he and Sherlock had six lovely weeks to themselves before the dancer had to go back to the Opera House to begin the next ballet season. And this was the best way to start it.
"I saw the lovely meal in the dinning room," John murmured into Sherlock's neck, dragging his lips across that long column of throat. "Did you cook for me again?"
"Yes," Sherlock panted.
"Then let's not make it go to waste," John said, only moving far enough away to look the tall dancer in the eye. "And then afterwards, I am planning on doing all sorts of indecent things to you."
Sherlock nodded, breathless.
"Come along, then." John took Sherlock's hand and led him to the table where a veritable feast was laid out. Sherlock had made all of John's favorite dishes and the rugby player knew they would be eating the leftovers for days.
"It looks marvelous, Sherlock," John said with a grin. "You've really outdone yourself."
Sherlock shook his head. "I just wanted everything to be perfect."
John pulled his lover in for another hug. "Love, you could have shown up with takeaway and you and I would have been over the moon."
They sat down and ate, talking about their trips even though they had spoken on the phone and video chatted as often as possible. There was always a new story to be told or a different aspect of an old one to be revealed.
Just as John was finishing his dessert, Sherlock got up and left. He came back a few minutes later dressed only in his bathrobe and gently drew John to his feet. John without question followed his lover and was surprised when instead of the bedroom, they had made their way to the bathroom.
Sherlock slowly, painstakingly removed John from his clothing. He helped his lover get into the tub before dropping his dressing gown to the floor.
John took in the exquisite sight of his boyfriend's long, lean form as Sherlock joined him in the tub. The dancer was gentle as he washed John's body and then his hair. John was enveloped in the love and affection that was pouring out of Sherlock as he washed away John's disappointment, stress and weariness, leaving the rugby player in a state that was pure bliss.
John was ready to return the favor by the time they finally got to the bedroom.
"You absolutely gorgeous thing," John whispered as he lay Sherlock on the bed. Sherlock looked up, his hair in disarray on the pillow, his cheeks flushed from the bath and the pleasure of what was about to happen next, his eyelids drooping suggestively. John crawled up on to the bed and caged his lover in with his arms and legs.
"I plan on taking you apart, inch by glorious inch," John breathed into Sherlock's neck, the dancer moaning as his eyes drifted close.
John kissed every inch of that lovely column of flesh. Sherlock's hands gripped John's shoulders, desperate to hold on to something. John chuckled as he gently guided those magnificent fingers lower and settled them on his waist.
"Oh!" Sherlock breathed as John's lips found his nipple and he arched into the touch. John raised with him and trailed his hand down Sherlock's side to rest it on the dancer's hip. He moved to suck on the other nipple and Sherlock's gasp turned into a moan as he hit the bed.
"You make the most amazing sounds," the rugby player whispered into the other man's stomach. John settled between the dancer's thighs.
"You know," he murmured as he continued his journey further down, "I have a hard time choosing the most delectable part of you."
"God!" Sherlock hissed as John carefully lifted one of his legs up on his shoulders.
John kissed the inner thigh, "There's this bit. So tight and oh so toned. I'm so jealous of the legs on you."
"Ah!" was all Sherlock could say in response.
John's other hand caressed Sherlock's stomach. "Then there's this part, it makes you scream when I do this," he bent down and nipped next to the belly button; and as if on cue, Sherlock screamed in pleasure.
"And of course we can't forget this beautiful thing," John rasped and took Sherlock's cock into his mouth. Sherlock jackknifed off the bed and curled his body around John, his hands gripping the rugby player's head, trying to grasp at the short strands, his leg still draped over John's shoulder.
John sucked and licked his way up and down Sherlock's cock, causing the dancer to breathe faster and faster, his moans and gasps fading away as John blew him to his climax.
Sherlock came with a loud shout of pleasure and flopped on the bed, completely sated.
John chuckled, "But I have to say that my favorite part is right here." He lifted Sherlock's other leg and buried his face between Sherlock's cheeks.
Sherlock wailed as John licked his way in and out of his hole. Sherlock flailed wildly for the lube on the nightstand and finally laid hold of it. He tossed it in his lover's general direction.
John patted around for the bottle as he continued his ministrations. When he found it at last, he fumbled with the cap on handed before Sherlock took pity on him and opened it for him.
John lifted his head. "Thank you, love."
John slicked up his lover first and then himself. He slowly levered himself forward until he pierced the outer ring. Sherlock cried out and John stopped to let his lover get used to the feeling. Once Sherlock gave the go ahead, John slid all the way in and they both moaned.
John grabbed Sherlock's hips and used them to gently glide in and out of his lover. Every nerve ending sparked in John's mind.
Sherlock fisted the blankets and let out little gasps of pleasure as John chased his own climax, keeping it nice and easy, drawing out both their pleasure.
Finally John could feel it build up higher and higher, until with one shuddering sigh, he came buried deep into Sherlock.
He tenderly put Sherlock's legs back on the bed and slid out. He moved to his lover's side and pulled him close.
"You are the most amazing, incredible creature in this whole world, Sherlock," he breathed into Sherlock's skin.
"Only you would think so," Sherlock replied, wrapping himself around John's smaller frame.
"I'm sure that's not true, but thank you all the same," he replied.
Sherlock lifted his head a little and looked down at John. "Why 'thank you'?"
"Because you saying that means you think the only one suited for a Sherlock Holmes is a John Watson. And I can think of no higher compliment."
They settled until they were nearly drifting off to sleep when John murmured, "Do you believe in fate?"
Sherlock roused slightly, "I don't believe in coincidence, if that's what you're asking; the universe is rarely so lazy."
"I'm a little fonder of the universe, then, if it thought we should meet," John muttered, drifting off to sleep.
Sherlock snuggled in close and just before slumber overtook him, he said, "Me, too."