A/N - Thanks to ScopesMonkey, love her! I hope you all enjoy it. This part is rated M, very, very, very M.

Day 5

I stretch as I walk into the flat. It is annoying that the paperwork for a cold case is more extensive than the paperwork for a regular case. Scotland Yard doesn't seem to be aware that I am doing them a favour by making them look less stupid.

I notice the slightly odd smell and look into the living room. I groan as I see the milk sitting on the coffee table. I'm going to have to make the flat presentable again before John returns. I want to shag my husband and that won't happen if the flat is a mess.

I was an idiot to make the mess in the first place.

I grab the container of milk and take it to the kitchen. It's going to have to be binned, along with the containers I was eating out of. Thankfully they aren't the good kind. Until John came into my life I was unaware that there were 'good' containers for storing food and 'throw away' containers for storing food. We'd added a third to that category: 'blood and hazardous materials'. They all have a red X on them to denote that it is acceptable for me to use them for storage. If I use one of the other containers I am immediately required to mark it with the X. John is adamant about this rule and breaking of it results in no sex.

I follow it religiously.

I put the silverware in the sink and add the containers to the bin. I can go to the store and buy a new group of the 'throw away' kind and John will be content that these have been binned. I add the mugs and tea cups to the sink. I will wash them later or perhaps ask Mrs. Hudson to wash them for me.

I groan again - she can't wash those for me, I'm going to need her to help me with the laundry. I grab the washing gloves from under the sink and the small mop-like implement that John uses for dishes. I clean them and set them on the plastic construction where drying dishes go. I remove the gloves and scrub my hands thoroughly.

I grab our blanket and leave it at the bottom of the stairs, I will add the rest of the laundry to it.

I sigh as the wave exhaustion overcomes me. I sit on the couch and create a list of the items I have left to do before John gets home. I should not have taken the cold case, it wasn't necessary for me to travel with Lestrade.

I look around the room, there are still piles of rubbish all over the place and that's not considering the mess I've left upstairs.

I am an idiot.

My phone rings and I grab it. I know it's John and I know what he's going to tell me.

"Were you asleep?" he asks.


"Get some sleep, Sherlock, I'd like you to be in the mood when I get home."

I laugh at that and realise I still haven't sent a picture of the jeans to John. I make a note to do it as soon as we are done here.

"You need not be concerned with that, Dr. Watson. I'm currently ensuring that circumstances in the flat are conducive to that as well."

"Cleaning up your mess then?" I can hear the smile in his voice. Of course he would know. He's John, it's not as easy for me to fool him as I like to think. "Just make sure all of the disgusting things are gone. I can live with the laundry basket over flowing."

"Overflowing" doesn't exactly mean blown up all over the floor. I'll still have Mrs. Hudson to help me with the laundry.

"Are you heading to the airport now?" I ask.

"Here already. I arrived early anticipating a long line at security. Shockingly there wasn't one, I didn't even get my balls fondled in one of those new security searches they do here. Complete let down, actually."

"You'll excuse me if I don't become too upset over strangers not fondling your balls." I smile, thinking of doing that activity myself.

He laughs at that. We sit in silence again, but it isn't the awkward silence from earlier. I'm anxious to see him again.

"Well, I'm going to let you go. I'm going to hit up the newsstand for a few magazines and some gum or something. I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I can't wait," I say. "I love you, too."


I walk in the house after the longest cab ride of my life. It is so good to be home. It's late enough that the lights are off in Mrs. Hudson's flat. I'm glad that I can put off seeing her until tomorrow. I want to see Sherlock right now. And I mean right now.

I carry my suitcase up the stairs, surprised that the door hasn't opened in front of me. I was actually a little surprised he wasn't at the airport. I dig my key out and open the door. The flat is dark, which also surprises me. It smells like pine, which means Sherlock has indeed been cleaning. It must have been bad for him not to just leave it.

I turn the hall light on and am greeted with two baskets of folded laundry sitting at the bottom of the stairs. Mrs. Hudson must have helped him with that because he doesn't know how to use the machine. He does know how to break the machine and has done so on a few occasions.

I step towards the kitchen and see him asleep face down on the couch. He's in pyjamas and has one arm hanging off the edge, resting on the floor, his face is turned to the living room. The window is open and it's cool inside the flat. I smile as I watch him for a moment.

Watching him sleep is a rare treat and I try to take advantage of it whenever I can. I won't savour it now though. It's been five days after all.

I kneel on the floor next to his head. I watch him for another second before I reach a hand out and run my fingers through his curls. He sighs, turning his head slightly to increase the contact. A contented smile crosses his features.

"Sherlock," I whisper and he stirs some more. He tries to snuggle deeper into the couch but the leather doesn't make that easy. It tends to stick to skin wherever it can.

"Sherlock," I repeat and the grey eyes slowly open. They focus on me a second and then close again. He stretches, those long lean muscles snapping as he increases the blood flow to them, and yawns. He opens his eyes again and meets mine.

"You're home," he says and grins at me.

"I am," I say and lean forward. He lifts his head and I move my hand around to cup his jaw. Our lips meet, it's easy and gentle. He opens his mouth to the pressure of my tongue and I dip in to taste him. I pull back and he does the same to me. It's a slow dance, but one that is beautifully familiar.

I try to pull back, but he holds my lower lip between his teeth. He bites and it feels heavenly. He pulls just a fraction before releasing me.

"I missed you," he says.

I smile at him. The moments of sincere emotions are becoming more frequent, but I still make it a point to enjoy each one. I know that I'm the only one who ever gets to see them.

"I missed you, too," I say. I don't think I realised how much until I got home. It's like the presence of him is filling up holes I didn't know had formed.

"Good," he says. "I hope you were miserable." He rolls onto his back and reaches out to pull on my arm. He wants me to climb on to the couch with him, on top of him. I happily comply. "If you were miserable then maybe you won't be so eager to leave me behind next time."

I settle my weight on his chest, propping myself up on my elbows. I press my arms down, causing him to wince. "I suggested you come with me on numerous occasions. You're the one who stayed home."

He sighs and rolls his eyes. "You know, John, it's really distasteful when you choose to focus on the facts instead of what I tell you."

I laugh placing a kiss on his chin, the stubble is rough against my lips. "Sorry I follow the facts, my husband has taught me that everybody lies - except him of course."

He sighs again and his hands trace down my sides. I suppress my body's urge to shiver but the muscles all across my back contract at the contact. His fingers are warm through the cotton of my shirt and feel like fire when the settle on the small of my back.

"Your husband lies all the time," he says and he starts tracing his fingers up my spine. I can't suppress the shiver this time. "Just not to you," he clarifies as his fingers move between my shoulder blades. The muscles in my neck relax and I let my head fall forward as he moves his fingers back down.

It's the barest of touches, but causes an unbelievable reaction. When he traces past my belt and between my cheeks my hips push forward. I'm still fully clothed and barely have the beginnings of an erection and he is already causing involuntary movements.

Thankfully, I can do the same. I shift up his body and feel a kiss on my forehead before lowering my head to his neck. I feel the stubble against my cheek as he moves his head to the side giving me better access. I know he expects me to start at his ear and move down, but instead I move right to the sweet spot.

I exhale against the spot where neck meets shoulder and he tenses underneath me. I close my lips around it and begin to suck. He groans and I am certain that I'm going to leave a mark. One of his hands settles on my hip trying to hold my lower body in place and the other one settles in my hair. I need a haircut because it's long enough for him to get a sure grip. It hurts as he pulls.

His whole body arches up into me as I use my teeth to squeeze the spot. His heart is pounding against my chest as he gasps. I drag my thigh between his legs, brushing his hardening member. His hips move, pushing up against me, and his hand settles on the small of my back.

"John," he exhales as his hips push against me again.

He can come like this, with me sucking on his neck while he grinds against my thigh. I experimented with it once and he was barely erect before he was screaming out with something akin to agony. I'd been naked then and amazed as the hot liquid squirted against my leg.

The memory sends a jolt through me and I moan against his skin. I drag my thigh against him, pushing up slightly in the same instant I pull on his skin with my teeth. He manages an "oh god" before his arching body lifts me off the couch. He's so tense I think he might be coming. I lower my thigh, as he grunts out my name again. He tightens the grip in my hair and pulls my head up. I prop up so that I can look at him.

He's flushed and gasping in short quick breaths. There are teeth marks on his lower lip. His fingers press on my lower back and a moment later both hands are grabbing at my shirt. "Off," he says. "Now. Get it off."

I lean down and he shoves his tongue into my mouth. I open to him, giving him unhampered access. His tongue presses against my palate and he whimpers. It vibrates all the way down my chest and settles in my stomach. As I touch his tongue with mine his hands stop moving on my shirt. He moans again, angling his head. My thigh drags against him and he tenses again, staggering two awkward thrusts against me. One of his hands clamps down on my thigh. It's a warning. I lift my thigh and move to straddle him. With my knee on the edge of the couch I sit up, breaking away from our kiss. He frowns but his hands start pulling on my shirt again. He frees it from my jeans and a second later his bony fingers are dipping beneath the waistband.

I reach between us and grab his t-shirt. I push it up his chest, dragging my knuckles against him as I do. "Up," I say and he growls. He brings his arms around and I quickly pull it off, tossing it away. I grab the bottom of my shirt and pull it off. Sherlock immediately begins to work on my belt.

He's fumbling, I can tell. I move my hand up and trace my index fingers across his nipples. I squeeze them, pulling them gently.

"Unh," his eyes flutter closed and his fingers stop moving. He snaps them open immediately and glares up at me. His fingers are still struggling. "GET THIS OFF," he orders. I laugh and push his fingers away. I work on my belt and his shaking fingers grab my shoulder pulling me towards him again.

We kiss as I manage to get my belt undone. I toss it aside, planting my foot on the floor so that I can lift off Sherlock. He whines as I break the kiss and grabs at me as I stand.

"Where-" he starts, but stops when I grab the waist band of his pyjama bottoms and start to pull them down. "Oh," he says lifting his hips, "brilliant."

I toss them aside as Sherlock sits up and starts to work on my zip. I tangle my fingers with his, each of us making it harder for the other. It takes longer than necessary to get the zip down, but a second later he pushes his hand into the opening and palms me. I have to grab the back of the couch as long fingers move down pushing my balls forward. I moan as my head tips back.

His voice sounds far away when he speaks. "You aren't wearing underwear, John." It's throaty, deeper than usual, and it shoots right up my spine. I push forward into his hand, moaning at the increase in pressure. "God I love that." He rolls the 'g' in the back of his throat. I push forward again and he traces his thumb over the head. I feel myself twitch in his grip and he squeezes me before pulling his hand out. We both grab at my waistband pushing the jeans down.

I move to kick them away as Sherlock turns and starts digging in the couch cushions. A moment later two containers drop on the cushion between his legs, his hands dig in again and two more appear. He holds them up quickly reading off the information, "We have raspberry, pear, apple cinnamon, and vanilla."

I pause for a moment, astonished. There were four containers of lube buried in our couch cushions? My sister has sat on this couch.

"Apple cinnamon," I say and he tosses the other three aside. He scoots back, making room for me to lie in front of him. He pats the sofa before he flips the container open with his thumb. "Down, John." I smile as I settle on my back.

I plant one foot on the floor, pushing it as far out as I can. He lubes up his fingers then grabs my other leg, bends it, and puts my foot on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against my arch. It makes my toes curl.

Our eyes lock as his long index finger begins to trace the sensitive hole. The smell of the lube reaches my nostrils. It isn't as strong as the regular cinnamon scented one he prefers, but it is still most definitely a Sherlock scent.

He pushes lightly and I let my eyes close. I take his index finger easily and the knuckle feels amazing as it moves in and out. He adds as second finger and I arch as he crooks them against my prostate. "Oh Sherlock," I hear myself say as my toes curl against his nipple. He moans in response and I feel it vibrate up my leg.

He adds a third finger, scissoring them inside of me. I push back against them, the tension in my pelvis pleasant and familiar. Now, now would be good. He removes his fingers and I open my eyes to see him drop the lube onto my stomach. The plastic bottle is cool on my abs.

I feel his fingers on the back of my leg that is planted on the floor. I let him bring the leg up and he rests it against him. I can feel his chest pressing against my calf. He straightens my other leg so they are symmetrical, my ankles resting next to his ears. I grab the lube and coat my hands. I reach out and rub it all over him. He groans, turning to plant a kiss into my left ankle. He darts his tongue against the bone and it causes goose bumps up to my knee.

He thrusts forward as I stretch my hand holding both of us. I line up the heads, moving my slicked up thumb easily over both of them. His weight presses into my legs as I mix the liquids leaking out of both of us. My own breath quickens at the sight. We are fairly close in size, he's a little longer and leaner and I have more girth, my head larger and more prominent.. They - we - complement each other very well.

I bring my finger up and suck on my knuckle where we are both mixed with the lube. He moans at the sight and reaches for my hand. He brings my thumb to his lips, sucking it clean, his tongue rough against the soft pad. I feel myself twitch at the sight, a grunt erupting from my chest. Now would be good.

"Good," I say and settle back. He kisses my knuckles before releasing my hand. He places another kiss into my ankle before he leans forward, lifting my hips as he does so. He reaches down and lines himself up before he slowly pushes into me. We moan together as I adjust around him. He's hot and I am tight around him, I feel full of him. He closes his eyes and savours it for a moment. He feels wonderful.

He puts his hands under my cheeks and lifts them up just a fraction more. When he pulls out his swollen head drags against my prostate. I thrust towards him and feel my insides tighten in response. "Oh god," I say reaching between us to grab myself. "So good."

He grunts a response as he pulls back and enters again. I moan, the pressure is milking the precum out of me.

He settles into an easy rhythm, pushing some of his weight against my legs. I feel the pressure in my hamstrings, heightening the others sensations. I bring my other hand up and press into my pelvis. My legs start to shakes as he presses against me again. "John," he says. I look up at him. His eyes are closed a look of bliss on his face, his lips slightly parted as he breathes through them. He's beautiful.

His eyes open and lock with mine, they are desperate, wanting. He wants me, this beautiful man always wants me. I speed up on my cock, my head presses into the cushion and my back arches off the couch. Sherlock is talking to me, but his voice is quiet and far away. The constant stream of incoherence leaving my throat is drowning him out. I can feel it though, the vibrations in his chest as they move through my legs. I can feel every word.

"Oh god," I hear myself say as the tightening begins. He puts more weight into my legs, raising my hips and increasing the angle. Everything in my lower body feels like it's collapsing in on itself. "Oh god, Sherlock, oh god." I feel my balls rise and a moment later I hear myself wail. Sherlock stops moving inside of me, filling me as I release all over my fingers. It's not too sensitive yet, a rare feat, so I pull some more, drawing more and more out of me. I arch up more as the liquid hits my abdomen, still pulling. So good, it feels so good.

"Sherlock," I wail again and then suddenly I am done. I cringe as I drag my fingers over the head, too sensitive now to touch. My whole body twitches as I let go, reaching out for anything, any part of him to hold. I land on his forearm and squeeze it. He kisses my ankle again as the tension leaves me. My body sinks back into the couch, the leather suddenly cool against my skin.

He lets my hips drop and stays still. I open my eyes to look at him. He grabs my hand and brings it up to his mouth. He starts to lick it clean, not satisfied from earlier. I groan and close my eyes again. I slide my legs off his shoulders and settle them on his hips, opening my eyes again. He looks feral as he meets my eyes and leans forward in the new position. He kisses me and I taste myself on him, myself and apple cinnamon and Sherlock. He moans into my mouth as he starts to move again. I dig my heels into his ass and he pulls out of the kiss.

"You're killing me, John," he says and he buries his face in my neck. I smile, planting a kiss into his curls. I time my thrusts with his, arching up to meet him. I bring my hands down and settle them on his ass. I squeeze the cheeks. Then I pull on them, stretching them apart. He groans and his rhythm sputters. I place a kiss against his ear as I hear him gasp in a breath. I keep the cheeks separated and dance my index finger across his entrance.

"Shit," he says, speeding up. I can feel the tension in his ass as his body thrusts into me. It's getting tighter and tighter in him. He's so close.

"Sherlock," I whisper his name into his ear. He groans and the hips stutter again. He likes it when I say his name. I can't reach the lube so I can't penetrate him very far, but as he pulls out I let the tip of my finger enter him.

He gasps and his body pushes forward almost violently. He's mumbling incoherent things as he pulls back and thrusts forward again. I hear my name among his murmured string of words as buries his face deeper, pressing his forehead against my jaw.

He pulls back and thrust forward, harder. He keens as he starts to shoot into me, whining as his muscles try to force him deeper. The muscles release quickly only to seize up again as his final thrust clears him out. His whole body shakes for a few seconds before his weight completely collapses on top of me.

"Oh," he says after several long minutes. I chuckle dragging my fingers up his back as I kiss above his ear.

"Look what happens when I go away for five days," I whisper and he starts to shake his head.

"Not worth it," he says. "Brilliant, but not worth it."

I smile against his temple. "I missed you, too," I say. "So much."

He nods and we are silent for a long time. I'd think he was asleep if his still quickened breathing didn't give him away. I trace absent patterns across his back, occasionally writing my name and feeling him smile against my skin.

Then suddenly he's standing up. I watch his naked form walk into the hall, his cute ass almost glowing in the moonlight. The view as he walks back is nice too, his flaccid member moving gently from side to side with each step. He smiles knowingly at me when he catches me looking, but I'm not ashamed. We both know nothing else will happen for a while.

He's dragging the blanket from the laundry baskets with him. He settles back on top of me and covers us with that. He rests his head on my shoulder and lets out an exhausted sigh. Most mornings I wake up with my husband strewn all over me, but to fall asleep that way is a rare treat. I wrap my arms around him and hug.

"When we get up in the morning can I have my present?"

"What makes you think I got you a present?" I ask him, even though I did. He just shrugs settling deeper into me.

"You're my John. I know." I smile at that and nod, answering his question. He lets out a contented sigh. "And I'd like to see the new suit in person, please?" I close my eyes, feeling sleep pressing in on me.

"I might require something in return for that," I say. He chuckles pressing a kiss against my neck.

"Anything that you want. Anything at all." I don't respond because sleep is winning the battle, but I can't wait to collect on that.