A/N Okay, so this is going to be the last chapter because it just seemed right to end there, and it wasn't really going anywhere else.

Thank you so much everyone who reviewed, favourited, and put my story on alert, it's a huuuge encouragement :)

Warning: There are a few sexual themes, but nothing much because I wanted to keep it within T rating. Trust me I was tempted. Oh so tempted. But it was the right place to stop and I would have gone on forever with it if I hadn't stopped there, before it got REALLY hot.

So, enjoy :D

-Sherlock's POV-

Sherlock sat there, his flatmate asleep on his chest, still stroking and rocking him. He'd been there so long he'd lost track of time, and with all due respect to his friend who had just had a breakdown, he was bored.

He adjusted slightly to get his mobile phone out of his pocket, and decided to check BBC news for the unlikely event of anything interesting having occurred. Nothing. He sighed, wondering what he could do now. Before he had to make up his mind, his phone vibrated, with one new text. He looked at who sent it. Mycroft. Typical. He groaned inwardly but opened it anyway.

Is Dr. Watson quite all right? He seemed rather upset earlier.


Stupid Mycroft, spying on them when none of it was any of his business. He wished his older brother would leave them alone.

John is fine. Bugger off and stop spying on my flatmate.


It wasn't technically a lie. John was fine, for now. When he woke up, though, it would be a whole other matter. Sherlock looked at John sleeping on him. He seemed so peaceful, which was unlike him as he usually had nightmares. John didn't think Sherlock knew, but there were always the telltale signs of the circles around his eyes in the morning, and the quiet whimpers at night. Sherlock thought about doing this more often; the nightmares worried him because he knew John was afraid. His friend would never let him though; he'd hate him after being brought to tears by him. Even if John didn't hate Sherlock, he sure as hell would be embarrassed to be around him. His phone vibrated again.

It's for his and your own good. You'll thank me for it at one point.


Hah. That'd be the day. Sherlock snorted.

No I won't.


He threw his phone down on the bed, and felt John move. He looked down and John's eyes flickered open.

"Sherlock?" He asked, still groggy from sleep.

"Hi," Sherlock said gently, unsure of himself. "Did you sleep well?"

"Surprisingly so."
"Do want anything? Tea? Coffee?"
"Coffee would be nice."
"Well go make some." Sherlock said in a humorous tone of voice, trying to get back to normal as soon as he could. John chuckled, and lifted his head from Sherlock's chest. He stood up and walked down the stairs. No signs of dislike or awkwardness or embarrassment or shame, thank God. Sherlock went to the bathroom and had a shower.

When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom with a towel round his waist, John was sitting down, watching television and drinking his coffee. Just as Sherlock was about to make his way to his bedroom to get dressed, John called him.

"Sherlock," The consulting detective turned round to face John.

He was well aware that his chest was bare and moist, and his hair was sticking to his scalp and face, but he didn't ever think that he'd render John speechless. The doctor was sat there just staring at Sherlock. It was like last night, he thought, when he'd been looking into John's eyes trying to deduce whatever the problem was. Oh God, he thought. Please don't cry again. He couldn't deal with more tears, so he quickly made his exit.

"I'm just going to get dressed John. I'll be right back"

Sherlock really drew out the process of getting dressed, as he needed time to think. What was causing John to cry? He had said that he wasn't upset with or angry at Sarah for breaking up with him, and Sherlock believed him. So it wasn't that. He had said that he agreed with her reasons, even. So it must be these reasons that were causing him so much upset. And it was to do with him. Sherlock didn't like this, but it gave him a sense of responsibility. He had to know what he was doing to upset John.

He was dressed now, but decided to give it one last think over. When he was sitting next to John on his bed, John was looking at him with a kind of look nobody had ever given him before. So he didn't know what it was. But when they had looked into each other's eyes, John's breathing had gone awry and his heart started beating so loud that Sherlock could hear it. He ran these things through in his mind, and-



He knew those signs. It was like that silly girl at St. Bart's, Molly Hooper. But this was different. John was his friend. He and John cared about each other, but it was never anything more than that. Because John was straight, wasn't he? Sherlock may have a preference for the male body, but John was strictly off limits, he was Sarah's. And now… Now all those feelings of there being something more in Sherlock's emotions made sense. John liked him. As more than a friend. And now he knew that, his brain decided that there was no risk in telling him that he felt the same way because there was no way he could get hurt, or at least, not that Sherlock knew of. He was happy, oh so happy.

He opened his door quietly, and crept over to where John was seated. He crouched down beside him, and whispered into his ear.

"John," Wow. He had no idea his voice could be so… Seductive.

John whirled round, and his face was barely a centimetre away from Sherlock's. Sherlock could taste his warm, coffee-flavoured breath and shut his eyes for a moment, opening them to see John's unbelieving face.

"mmng?" John's incomprehensible response got him a chuckle from Sherlock.

"I know, John." He whispered. He gently took his best friend's face in his hands and leant in closer, barely breathing his next words. "I know why you and Sarah broke up."

And with that, he closed the distance between their lips. They were still for a second, but then Sherlock prised open John's lips and started a long, tender kiss. Sherlock was drowning in emotions as John moved his hands to his mop of still damp hair, he was being asphyxiated by all those long buried feelings. Literally.

He pulled away, gasping for air, a grin on his face that was matched by John's. He went straight back in, kissing John's neck, nibbling his earlobe, listening to his moans.

"Sherlock," John managed to get out.

Sherlock made a noise to show that he was listening, but he didn't stop, he'd never stop if it wasn't absolutely necessary. The feeling of John's neck, his ears, his lips, on Sherlock's mouth, was extraordinarily addictive, as was hearing how much John was enjoying it through his more than frequent gasps and moans.

"You don't have to do this. For me, to make me happy. If it's not what you want."

This made Sherlock stop. John thought that he didn't want this. He moved his eyes up to John's, which looked like they regretted making him stop, and raised an eyebrow. This made John shiver, so Sherlock smiled. He didn't deliberately change his voice at all, but it came out somewhere between a growl and a purr.

"John Watson, do you know how long I have been waiting for this?"

John didn't reply, but Sherlock was pleased about this because if John was busy talking, he couldn't have pulled Sherlock's mouth back up to his. This kiss was so passionate and fiery that Sherlock was sure that it would lead to much, much more. He started thinking about what he wanted to do to John, and he felt arousal flooding through his body. Apparently John felt the same way, as he was pulling Sherlock onto the sofa. Sherlock positioned himself on top of John and started pushing down on him and moving against him, which felt so unbelievably brilliant he started moaning himself. He was about to unzip John's jeans, when he heard the door open and looked round to see Mrs. Hudson standing at the door, mouth agape and a blush creeping up her neck.

He was expecting her to leave straight away, but before she did, a grin appeared on her face, and she said with pride " I knew it! I bloody knew it!"

Sherlock laughed, the movement of it making John moan before he realised Mrs. Hudson was still there, and John went bright red, causing Sherlock to laugh even more.

"I'll leave you boys to it, eh?" She said with a wink, and firmly shut the door on her way out.

"Now… Where was I before we were so rudely interrupted?" Sherlock asked rhetorically, and got back to his job of taking John's jeans off.

A/N So that's the end! I'm sorry I deprived you of a full on sex scene, but I'm sure there'll be more stories to come... No pun intended xD

Did you like it? Review please, I want to know what you thought of the story as a whole, how I can improve and what I should do next.

Thanks go to:
Everyone who used up valuable minutes of their time to read something that I wrote... (INCLUDING YOU!) I still can't believe that people from across the globe are reading my story.

Other authors who have written stories on here that I will never be able to live up to in a million years, for keeping me sane and giving me inspiration.

And of course, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for his invention of these amazing characters, and the BBC for bringing them to the 21st Century. And Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman for portraying these characters ridiculously well.