A Day at the Yard

221B Baker Street was quiet. Possibly too quiet for a Monday morning after a weekend of happy celebration by Sherlock and John, but at least no one had the remains of a hang over to worry about. It was the heat of the sun that awoke John on that Monday morning, as opposed to the tall, snore-making machine that was currently wrapped around him, pale skin standing out against his own natural tan

Although they had spent the better part of the weekend in bed, John still felt tired, and he told himself that he was too old for the antics they had pulled, the thing with the riding crop and the baby oil being the tamest. John's bed was now not the only item in need of being replaced as various items had been knocked or broken due to rigorous activity. When Mrs Hudson had come up with food the day before, she told them in no uncertain-terms that she would not be replacing anything broken unless it wore down of 'natural causes'.

Sherlock mumbled something in his sleep and clung to John tighter for a moment before slipping back into slumber, John slipped from the bed, grabbed his dressing gown before he closed the door softly behind him, in an effort not to wake Sherlock from the restless slumber that claimed him but a few hours before. John could only smile to himself as he tightened his dressing gown and shuffled down the stairs to brightness of the living room. There was a certain hum to the traffic in the street below but nothing enough to shake the smile from John's face as he finally felt he could move on with his future happily.

Flipping the kettle on, John brought out two cups and prepared them with tea and sugar for Sherlock before setting about his morning routine. His mind couldn't help but drift to the amazing friends and family they had, because he knew that some of them still had reservations but they didn't want to show it. John was quite prepared to tell them that they had better start looking at their own lives before casting any stones at his. He knew that people would be telling him that he should get out, but he was quite happy to tear into anyone who didn't support them.

Of course this was only but the first stage of them coming out as a fully-fledged couple. Next would be other relatives and friends they saw less often. Work colleagues and former army blokes that John was bound to run into. John wasn't afraid of that though, as he was looking forward to seeing the shock register on some of their faces, those that knew him to be the Captain Watson who had had his fair share of women on three continents would mostly be shocked to see him settling down with a man.

John shuffled from the kitchen to the living room sofa, one of the pieces of furniture to be replaced in due course, and sat down softly in accordance to the screaming muscles in his thighs.

He couldn't remember whose idea it was to look for the Karma Sutra online and see what positions they could mimic, but John new that his lanky younger man was far more flexible than he looked and to keep up he would need yoga or Pilates, not that he would ever admit that aloud to anyone who asked. Thank you very much.

Bringing the steaming teacup to his mouth he willed the warmth to spread through his limbs, but knew that the best option would be a bath or shower, without Sherlock, depending on his mood when he got up. That being said, they could always find something interesting in the bathroom for both of them. John could only smile at the images that played across his mind like a movie screen, giving him another reason to have the morning rise.

"Morning, John."

Sherlock leaned against the door jam of the living room casually. His stripped white pyjamas made him look completely at ease, but that blue silk dressing gown was on and draped around him. He looked gorgeous, thoroughly kissed, thoroughly fucked. Best of all though was that he looked as though he couldn't wait to do it again.

"Morning love, I've made you tea. Interested in breakfast?"

Sherlock clambered onto the sofa and sipped his tea with a shrewd look in his eyes before reclining on the length of it with his feet in John's lap, kneading the terracotta fluff beneath his toes.

"Is there any chance that you could make me a fry up?" Sherlock hesitated. "With mushrooms and not those horrible cherry tomatoes that you insist on using. They're awful."

Sherlock looked up over the rim of his cup with twinkling eyes that made John forget how to breathe, and although he couldn't see Sherlock's mouth, he was fairly sure it was whipped into a sly smile, full of sexy intent for later.

"I could do that," John struggled out, "I think we have everything that there needs to be. What do you want to do today? We're case-less, so we could stay home, or go somewhere if the weather holds up nicely." John pondered taking one pale, long foot of his lovers and kneading it between his fingers. Sherlock almost managed to stifle a moan, but it was too much for him.

"Mmm, John. I am really, really hungry. For food, I mean. I need energy. Please…" Sherlock pleaded with eyes closed and his head thrown back against the arm of the sofa, his black curls spread around him like a dark halo while he fought the sensations John created with his hands travelling up his leg under his pyjamas.

A smile flittered across John's face as he noted the flush that crept up Sherlock's neck from his collarbone, and decided to allow him some mercy and removed his hands from him to stand and rearrange his legs back on the sofa.

"Alright, but you need to think on what we should do. We can't spend another day lazing about, or Mrs Hudson will start to get worried that our relationship is only about sex." John responded wryly missing a sideswipe from Sherlock's arm aimed at his arse laughingly.

"I'm going. You know it wouldn't hurt to you to cook breakfast once-in-a-while. I'm not your housekeeper," John turned to the kitchen and began to gather the breakfast ingredients that he would need.

He heard Sherlock's speedy typing and knew that he had located his laptop that had been hidden under the sofa on Saturday morning, and knew he would be checking his email to see if any case had presented itself for him to take up. Even though John knew Sherlock loved him, he really didn't intend on changing the nature of the man who made his life interesting and lively. He couldn't, no wouldn't, change him to be something that he was not, all of his idiosyncrasies that made him this super-intelligent man were just some of the reasons he would do anything for him.

Sherlock tapped at his laptop trying to find something that would take his mind off of having John over the kitchen table, but he had no cases at all, no even the most boring. He roamed the Internet news pages, trying to ascertain some pattern or something, and all he could see were words jumping from pages that were completely inappropriate. Sherlock slammed his laptop in a refusal to let his newfound libido run his life. He hadn't let his relationship change him to date, not significantly, and he didn't intend to. He would try almost anything to make John happy, but not so much that he couldn't recognise himself in the mirror.

John allowed him to look at the data, play with it in his mind and not tell him he was wrong to do so. He only tried to get Sherlock to see outside of that, but he was the conductor that allowed emotions to be visible. Without John, Sherlock didn't think he would understand the half of life as it was in 'normal' terms.

Sherlock became so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice John observing him as he laid the plates on their desks that functioned as a dinner table far too often. Sherlock's eyes became focussed on a distant point that only he could see, but John knew something was bothering him.

"I'm not going anywhere Sherlock. I take you for what you are. You know this. You probably knew before I did, with your coat and cheekbones that I would accept you with minimal fuss. There is no way you're getting rid of me now we're together."

Sherlock nodded at him, eyes focussing slowly, and he settled at the table as they ate to the sound of the radio. It seemed to both of them that they had finally achieved a balance where everything simply worked. They didn't need to speak to understand each other, or have complicated conversations, as Sherlock was often wont to do with John taking on his pleasantly blank face. They just worked around each other companionably.


"Sherlock…" John mimicked his tone.

"Is that your phone ringing or is it mine?"

Both men paused to see if they could hear a distinctive ring tine, and Sherlock's eyes lit up. "It's mine. Do you mind getting that for me?"

John closed his eyes slowly, and counted backwards from ten slowly to avoid snapping and when he opened them he could see Sherlock peering at him meekly holding his breath.

"Where is it then? I'll be your run around man on this occasion," he muttered lightly, "along with every other time you want something but don't want to move."

"Bedroom, my bedside cabinet, top draw," came the instinctual guide. It often irked John for milliseconds then he'd just get over it, and this was one of those times while he shot up the stairs and got to the phone just as it stopped ringing. He'd seen the name as the phone was lit up and knew that this would excite Sherlock to no end and give him something to do.

"It was Lestrade for you. Call him back," John passed the phone as he slid back into his chair to resume eating his food.

Palming the phone, Sherlock set about tapping on the keys swiftly, firing a message to Lestrade, and set it back down to spear some mushrooms with his fork. His phone began to ring as he chewed and rolled his eyes before answering, to which John stifled a chuckle.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Sherlock, its Greg. You said to call you. Why didn't you just call me back?"

"You know how I feel about making phone calls. I prefer to text. Plain and simple. Hold on let me put you on speaker so I can finish my breakfast. John's here so beware," Sherlock pushed a button and placed the phone softly back on the table top, "have you got something for us? You must know that we're still at a loose end."

"Hi Greg, by the way." John slipped in, before biting into some more bacon and beans from his plate.

"John, mate. Morning. I figured you'd both be up by now being that it's after the morning rush hour. I know you're both at loose ends, but I don't have a case for you. Not yet, anyway, I'm sure something will pop up. It usually does," Greg's dry tone came down the line, "I'm calling about what I mentioned on Friday at dinner. I need you to come in though, I think we should talk about it, the three of us, face to face."

Sherlock and John shared a glance over the phone, and when John nodded slowly, Sherlock felt happy enough to say, "We'll finish breakfast and get ready, maybe an hour and a half..." John raised an eyebrow and pushed back his plate, "Two... Make it two hours, Greg. John's a little slow in his feet today."

There was a beat of silence from the phone before the good detective inspector muttered, "I don't need to know anything... I'm not asking for anything. Two hours. See you then."

Sherlock disconnected the call before he picked up John's plate with his own and scooted off to the kitchen, while John simply swivelled round in his chair to watch his detective. His mind whirred like an engine being revved up as Sherlock made his way back to the sofa and stretched out on it like a cat.

"Why two hours, love? It wont take us that long to get ready and get to The Yard."

"I know that, but I'm not having Lestrade think he can click his fingers, and there I'll be. Plus I missed you this morning, when I woke up you weren't there. I had plans for you."

"Well, those plans will have to wait, won't they?"

"No. They won't." Sherlock ran long pale fingers through his hair and stretched again, making his legs lock and his back arch from the sofa slightly. He moaned low and deep and the sound went through John's body like an alarm.

John could see a stretch of Sherlock's pale stomach from the T-shirt that rode up on his body. This was temptation, pure and simple. Sherlock was tempting him, putting him before business and it felt damned good. John's mouth felt dry as he knelt by the sofa and pulled Sherlock into a soft kiss. A teasing kiss full of promise that John would have been tempted to fulfil right there on the sofa like they had done before, but he pulled back after licking the length of Sherlock's neck.

"I am going to shower. Then I am going to get dressed, so I hope your plans are portable Sherlock."

John was soon stepping under the warm spray, and it was a form of heaven for him working out all the kinks in his muscles that had been built up over the weekend by over use by his extremely agile boyfriend. As he lathered up the soap and glided them along his skin, another pair of hands joined his own.

"If I help you shower, will I get what I want then?" Sherlock murmured against John's neck while his hands glided his flanks in a motion that curled forward to the front of John's body before cupping him gently then returning to lathering him up.

"Maybe...It's not an exchange I was angling for, you know. I am quite happy to wait...until later." John sighed as Sherlock took John's ample arse cheeks and began to lather them up and pry them in turn. "We are supposed to be somewhere soon."

"The Yard, I know. I want to do this first, so I go there in the best possible mood," Sherlock withdrew his hands so only his finger tips were grazing John's skin, "of course I could always stop..."

John bit his lip and whimpered as Sherlock's fingers began to quest a little firmer and deeper in a more localised way that made John want to lean back into Sherlock for just a moment so he could get caught in that relaxing motions of his young lover.

Sherlock placed John's hands on the shower wall and held them there for a second before dipping his mouth to John's neck and nibbling the warm flesh gently. John bucked at the surprise and leaned so his back was flush against Sherlock's. Sherlock was hard and now wedged between his cheeks pleasantly but he continued to stroke John, to help melt the tension knots that were in some of the most surprising places that John had forgotten existed.

Sherlock allowed his hands to sweep forwards, cupping and lightly tugging at John's erection, and John wanted to look but for fear of losing control he placed his head against the tiles instead. Every so often, Sherlock would move his hand to John's cock and move it in just the way that would have John panting, just the right amount of pressure in his thumb that glided over the ridge in his penis.

"Aah, shit… Sherlock..."

"Shh… I'm here John. I'm right here." Sherlock whispered into John's ear as he moved his hand faster and more controlled.

John felt his orgasm approach fast after a few peaks, something to do with Sherlock being pressed up so close and whispering in his ear about letting go and the delicious friction that the man created for him. He didn't have the chance to speak as it consumed him whole, his vision blacking out in the pleasure as his hips moved of their own accord.

The first thing John felt were the strong arms that held him as his mind blinkered. The second was the spray beating down on his skin like rain. John twisted his face round and drew Sherlock in for a kiss that threatened to lead to more of the same before Sherlock broke away.

"If I carry on we wont get anywhere. I need a cold shower now. I've done what I wanted to do for you this morning." Sherlock smiled lopsidedly at John, leaning against the opposite shower wall.

"Or I could…?" John smiled reaching for Sherlock.

"No, love. Its best if we don't. Plus, I'll be thinking of ways that you can repay me later if we leave it now."

John gave Sherlock a chaste kiss, a parting kiss, before stepping out of the shower and wrapping himself in a terracotta robe. "Promise?"

"Absolutely." Sherlock turned the dial to make the hot water turn to an icicle spray while presenting John with ample arse cheek to view before he closed the bathroom door and made his way upstairs to get changed.

An hour later saw them leaving Baker Street in a taxi to New Scotland Yard. The street was busy, there were buses and pedestrians everywhere and John stroked Sherlock's hand lightly.

"So, will we be making it obvious to others at The Yard? About our change in status now we've come out to our friends?"

"What? I suppose, John. What would you want to do?" Sherlock cast a glance at John before looking out the window at the familiar city.

"I think we should play it down for now. Which means that we be our normal selves without watching each other like we must have done a million times before. We're here to see Greg, hear him out and then make our way somewhere else. If we see Donovan or Anderson, we ignore them, okay?"

"You want me to just ignore them if they say something out of line instead of correct their ignorance? John, that's asking too much?" Sherlock huffed.

The taxi pulled up across the road and John opened his door. "No Sherlock, I'm asking just enough. We need to make our lives easier for our future, and you don't know how long Greg will let you work alongside him if everyone keeps complaining about you. Just try, please?"

Sherlock paid the driver and followed John to the pavement. Once John had shut the door he didn't move away, he stood waiting, and Sherlock knew he wouldn't get away without giving some kind of answer.

"I'll try," Sherlock grated out, "but don't expect them to do anything less than get under my skin. You know what they think of me!"

John nodded and crossed the street with Sherlock following close behind. "I know, Lock, but you are better than them. It's about time you start remembering that." He smiled as Sherlock agreed with him and they made their up to Greg's floor.

Greg stood in his squad room waiting for them as they pushed open the doors and simply nodded them into his office without any preamble, then asked someone to get them some coffees before shutting his door.

John sat on a chair without needing an invite, however Sherlock stood for the moment as Greg perched on the edge of his desk studying them.

"Looking well, John. Life is obviously agreeing with you."

"Well, it is what it is Greg. You know that." John was interrupted by a young male PC who brought in three steaming mugs, placed them on Greg's desk before sloping out and closing the door behind him.

"So, Greg, why are we here?" Sherlock started them off, standing in the corner of the room exuding a still and wary exterior.

John smiled at Greg's face, because try as he might he wasn't used to hearing Sherlock call him by his first name. He would only do it when it was just the three of them somewhere, never anyone else.

"Right, straight down to business then," Greg grinned wryly, as John smiled into his mug of pretty decent coffee. "I have been taken to one side by my superintendent about how you have been working with us. He has been concerned about the amount of access you seem to have to crime scenes and data, with no proper access being arranged, other than by me. He seems to think that it's a great idea to put you on our books as a proper consultant, with ID and all that stuff."

"Really? Why on earth would I do that?"

"Uh, because we need the money, Sherlock." John shot an embarrassed look at Greg, "I mean him. Obviously I will keep working as a locum when things get really tight."

"I'm not working without you, John. There is just no way," Sherlock exploded, "so Lestrade can run back to his boss and tell him where he can…"

"Sherlock!" John and Greg both shouted sternly, as Sherlock had the grace to look well told off as he sat and picked up the untouched mug of coffee while Greg eyed him.

"Funnily enough I told the super that you might have a reaction like that. I explained that you tended to come as a working duo, and as no one else has any method of controlling you except for possibly John, he had to come on board under the same terms. So you are both being offered a chance to be on the books, case-by-case basis, shared office and desks that you can use. There is also lab access, and John will have carte blanche of autopsies related to the cases if you so want mate. That way you are independent."

Sherlock's face didn't render any change as John thanked Greg for the news. He quickly swept up and out of the office without a word. "He'll do it, obviously. Whose idea was it really?"

Greg had the good grace to look truly uncomfortable before he spoke. "Not entirely sure, but I have my suspicions that it goes high."

"Don't tell me, another Holmes?" John smiled as he watched Greg's skin flush a gentle pink beneath the natural tan. "His heart is in the right place. He just likes to pretend he doesn't have one."

"Hard man, is he?"

"Can be. He thinks that nothing can touch him and that nothing should, so he puts obstacles between himself and what he wants…except for food. I think if he was on some kind of active duty he'd be a force to reckon with. He does care though, deeply."

Greg's face deepened as questions whirled through his mind, but couldn't force the thoughts into words but for one question. "What is it like to, uh…be with a Holmes?"

"With Sherlock…One word that covers a multitude is 'unpredictable'. I've never known Mycroft to be in a relationship, but he must have been in one as he is more socially adjusted than Sherlock. I think that he needs someone who understands him, and deep down I think that he wants someone too."

"I… John I uh," Greg's voice crackled into a whisper as he looked at one glass wall of his office over John's head. John smiled encouragingly to himself and leaned forward for Greg.

"You like him. I know. He's the first guy to draw your attention. Been there, mate. Listen though, it's all about feelings Greg. How you feel, how Mycroft feels…and we never have to talk about this again if you don't want to, but I am here to listen to whatever's on your mind. You should talk to Mycroft though, I could give you his number?"

Greg took his phone from his jacket pocket and twirled it about on the desk for a few moments allowing a small smile play over his lips. "He already gave me his number. Said that if I ever needed to discuss anything, anytime, he'd always be on the other end of the phone."

"That's a good sign. It also probably means his used resources to acquire your numbers too and is afraid to make the first move. I mean it, about needing an ear."

"Course I'll talk to you mate. I will need help. I've met him a few times over the years, but things were different then. I was different, and unavailable. I suppose the biggest of all is that I never thought any bloke was attractive, except Mycroft and that first day he kidnapped me." Greg drew a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair. "I want him. Mycroft. I thought something would happen when he dropped me home. We had a moment, but then he bottled it." Greg laughed to himself.

"You like him, quite a bit by the sound of it. You're single and you should just make a move of some kind, take it slow. Not like me and Sherlock, as I think living together all this time was probably our mating dance." John smiled and looked like he was going to leave before he turned back. "The contracts for me and Sherlock, you'll let me know when they are ready to be looked over, right?"

Greg nodded and quickly outlined a little more of what would be entailed of them, there was very little change to what they did now, except for some rules that Sherlock would love to break and John would try to impose.

"I'd better go. Find Sherlock, I reckon he'll be around somewhere. You know how he hates what he thinks is boring. You need to speak to Donovan and Anderson. If we'll be working here, closer with your team, they should know about it, and be warned that some things wont be tolerated, Greg."

"Sure thing, John. It'll be great to work closer with you. I need another regular bloke around, Anderson doesn't count as one." Greg laughed and twiddled the phone again.

John walked from the office, but stuck his head back through before the door closed. "You should call him tonight. Best to catch him off guard I reckon." Greg smiled at that and typed into his mobile as John wished Greg luck silently.

Stepping into the main squad room, John looked about at the faces he would be seeing on a more regular basis and getting to know better. Not everyone would welcome them working at New Scotland Yard, there would be grumbles from others that Sherlock had managed to upset. Of course, that was an obstacle for later. The most important thing was that he was going to be paid to look after Sherlock, something he would have done for free, but they may as well benefit from this opportunity.

Finished with Greg. Where are you? JW

John tapped out the message quickly and before he got to the stairwell he received a message back.

Looking for a new office. Come see. SH

Typical, of course, for Sherlock not to say where he was in the building to narrow it down, but knowing Sherlock as he did the best place to start would be the lab. Sherlock would be sizing up the science equipment and deciding what he would need to commander from somewhere else.

A flight of stairs up to the lab, and John ran into the two people he would have hated to see with Sherlock. Without him was just about bearable.

"Donovan, Anderson." He murmured politely as he continued not giving them a second glance.

"What are you doing here? Alone? He always leaves you behind doesn't he?" Sally Donovan snapped maliciously as John climbed another step.

"Have you seen him? We were just with Lestrade. Important business, I'm sure you'll get filled in eventually." John continued to climb steadily as Donovan skipped down the last few steps with Anderson in her wake.

"Idiots." John muttered as his phone beeped at him.

They are idiots. Don't let them wind you up. I'm in Forensics. SH

John went up two more floors, and through two sets of double doors. There was a main working area, but also a few small offices, some with large glass panes like Greg's and others had smaller sections and lots of plaster. One of the offices without glass had Anderson's name on it, and John pushed the door open to find Sherlock seating in his chair.

"I think I like this office, John. What do you think?"

"I think it belongs to someone who hates you enough already, and we should not be in here."

Sherlock stood and walked around the desk, "I know it's a bit small, but we can fit two desks in here if we move them closer to one of the walls. A wall unit for medical texts for you, and a unit with my most used texts could go right there." Sherlock pointed to the wall with the door in it.

"Sherlock, this is Anderson's office. You can't just get it because you want it. It doesn't work like that."

Sherlock stood and walked quickly to the door and closed it with a snap of the lock and guided John to the chair. "John just imagine it, this would be like the living room at home, only this would be our proper work space. At home there would be less clutter, my clutter."

"Right. No."

"John, please. We can get this office fair and square. No manipulation. We just have to ask."

John didn't think for a moment that Sherlock meant what he said as he perched on the edge of the desk. He looked like he was just trying to make an effort though.

"Alright, we can ask. I suppose Anderson will dig his heels in so deep that there will be no way."

"Of course, so in case we don't get this office, I want to have a good memory of this room." Sherlock shifted so that he was now sitting directly in front of John in the chair with his legs splayed. "Would you let us create a good memory, here…for us?" Sherlock shifted a hand from his own thigh to his groin ever so slightly and pressed in with the heel of his hand, enough to capture John's eye, how could he not, it was at his eye level after all.

John's mouth went dry, "Sher… what…? We can't."

"Yes, we can. The door is locked, they aren't here…but we are here. Please John, that cold shower didn't do enough for me. I need more." Sherlock pressed the heel of his hand again and responded to himself with a moan and a slight buck of the hips with looking into John's eyes. "Jo-ohn…please."

John's body responded for him, he harden as though touched, and shifted forward on his chair to get closer to Sherlock but ended up rubbing his face along the centre seam of Sherlock's trousers.

"Ye-sss." Sherlock hissed as he held John's head in his hand.

John grasped the zip between his fingers and pulled it down quickly and undid the button before his hand delved behind the fabric and found flesh. Sherlock hissed again and bucked his hips and John wrapped his mouth around Sherlock as though it were the last way to survive.

They both moaned in pleasure. Maybe it was the location; a police station would be the last place you'd expect to get away with anything risky. Actually neither of them cared really, it was a moment that they were sharing and enjoying together. John's mouth worked on Sherlock, creating the right amount of suction and moisture while allowing his tongue to roam the veins that decorated Sherlock's length.

John started to hum some tune around Sherlock, and sure enough he was soon writhing on the table, fighting back the need to release that was swelling up around him like a wave, but when John swallowed around him, he couldn't hold back any more and groaned deep as his orgasm washed through him and into John's mouth.

When Sherlock's brain came to, John was not on the chair any more; he was undoing his own flies in a hurry and removing a packet of lube from his pocket.

"Sherlock you better get up and bend over this desk right now, because I am going to fuck you. That will give me something to remember for longer than any office we'll have in this building." John fisted himself firmly and closed his eyes, when he opened them moments later with his bottom lip between his teeth, Sherlock still hadn't moved.

"Now Sherlock! So help me, you've done this, and it needs to be undone before we leave this building. Turn over." John all but growled and Sherlock quickly acquiesced, pulling his trousers down his legs in the process, as John emptied the sachet onto his fingers, and approached Sherlock with care that his voice hid well. One finger became two quickly, and Sherlock moaned into the desk as John massaged his prostrate now and then encouraging him to loosen up.

A quick scissoring motion within Sherlock and John was soon easing his way home savouring each gasp and baritone moan that erupted from Sherlock's mouth. John rested his head on Sherlock's back and kissed him through his jacket before he began to piston his hips fast and hard.

This wasn't "go slow and savour" shag, this was "I need you so badly that if I don't fuck you now I could die" shag, and Sherlock acknowledged that with his own thrusts against John. They moved in a frantic rhythm, and John was soon giving a shout to the arrival of his orgasm.

"Oh shit…oh shit, Sherl…fuck. Fuck." John repeated as he slumped over Sherlock's back rather than falling over.

"Bloody hell John…I think you needed a change in scenery." Sherlock smiled back to John a few minutes later as they both begun to laugh.

"I guess I did. Yeah, well it's been a long while since I did something like this, on someone else's desk, let alone attempting to have sex in a police station. Car parks, and places like that on the other hand…"

"Good ideas for the future there, love. Come on, we should make tracks to get home. What did you tell Greg?" Sherlock asked as John began to clean himself up a bit.

"That we'd take the job, obviously. He will let us know when the contracts are ready to go, and we had a little chat too." John watched as Sherlock pulled his trousers up over his voluptuous derriere.

Sherlock stretched to rid himself of kinks for the journey home before checking John's appearance. He looked at the very least like he had just had a very interesting clinch. John caught him looking and smiled.

"You look just as sated as I do, so let's just…get out of here. Please."

Sherlock smiled and unlocked the door and let John lead out before asking, "What about Mycroft? I mean Greg and Mycroft. Is something going on yet?"

They hit the stairwell and John turned to look at Sherlock fitting his 'work' face on. "How did you…? Never mind. I believe there is mutual interest. We are not getting involved though. Not our business, Sherlock. Let them go at their pace."

"I wasn't going to interfere. Maybe mention to Greg that my brother can be…what?" Sherlock saw John's eyes harden just a touch, "okay, I will stay out of it. We will watch from the side-lines and only offer advice if asked."

"No one will ask you."

John started down the stairs again and Sherlock stopped him on the next level. He stepped into him a touch closer than they had ever before in New Scotland Yard, and Sherlock leaned in. "Please, lets not…bicker, John. Let's just get home and…"

"Oh look who it is then. Found the Freak then did you, John?" Donovan threw up at them on the stairwell.

Anderson was only a step behind her with something to add. "John, how can you bear to have him that close to you? Were you two having a moment or something?"

"No, we were…just on our way home." Sherlock stepped away from John and down a few steps indicating to john to follow.

"Cosy isn't it, Freak? Surprised he still sticks around with you. He can do so much better." Donovan followed them down another step.

John squared his shoulders and turned to Donovan. He'd never hit a woman, and he wasn't about to start now. "You've spoken to Lestrade, I take it. So you know we'll be working closer with you than ever before, right?"

"Bloody ridiculous if you ask me. It's nothing that we can't figure out for ourselves. We don't need him doing it for us." Anderson bit back for Donovan, a right little team, John thought.

"If you could figure it out, we wouldn't have been offered the job. You might want to think about that Anderson." John turned away but pivoted back quickly, "By the way Anderson, you have a lovely desk. It's very perfect for cosy moments between two people who really care about each other, don't you think?"

John left them dumbfounded as he jogged down the stairs past Sherlock and out to the street. For a change he managed to hail a taxi, and they both got in quickly.

"221B Baker Street please, mate." John said firmly as he took up Sherlock's hand and placed his lips on them tenderly. Neither of them spoke until they were almost home, content to watch the city roll by.

"I thought we weren't supposed to antagonise them?" Sherlock said quietly.

"We weren't. Well, no…you weren't, as you have no impulse control. I waited and then told them just enough." John smiled at Sherlock and laughed. "Did you get a look at their faces?"

"Donovan looked as though the world was just about to end, and Anderson…" Sherlock laughed harder.

"I think Anderson knew I was serious, and I don't think that he'll want that desk anymore though." John managed to get out before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Sherlock opened the front door of 221B and they tumbled in. When they both had a foot on the stairs, Mrs Hudson stepped out.

"Hello boys. You look like you've had a good day." They looked at each other and burst into another fit of giggles that had Mrs Hudson nonplussed.

"We have just been offered a proper consultancy position with the Metropolitan Police, Mrs Hudson. Fancy popping up to celebrate?" John offered.

"No, you boys go ahead and celebrate without me. I did enough at the weekend. My hip has been playing up." She turned to go, before she remembered the letter in her hands. "Sherlock this came for you earlier. Was dropped off in person by a very smart looking man. Had a flat chauffeur hat on and everything."

Sherlock took the proffered letter and turned it over in his hands. It was a very posh cream envelope, hand written in familiar ink, familiar writing. It had his and John's names on it. Bugger.

"Ah. Thank you Mrs Hudson. We'll see you later." Sherlock said as he took the stairs two at a time. John lingered a moment and gave Mrs Hudson a peck on the cheek before following up to their flat.

Sherlock was sat in his chair, coat thrown over the back as he turned the letter over in his hands repeatedly.

"Who is it from?"

Sherlock looked up and John saw how pensive he was. What was in the envelope, and why hadn't Sherlock opened it.

"Mummy." Sherlock held the envelope up and gave it to John. John saw Sherlock's name and his own on it. "Open it John, I think that there may be two letters within, or just one for us both."

John opened the envelope, and there were indeed two letters in their own smaller envelopes. There was bulky envelope for Sherlock consisting of several pages, and a thinner one with his name on the outside. He passed off the other to Sherlock and read his own swiftly.

Dear Doctor J.H. Watson,

I have been passed news by way of Mycroft that you are in a relationship with my youngest, and I congratulate you on seeing through the image he loves to portray. Please let me welcome you to the Holmes family by inviting you to the family home in a few weeks for a gathering. Sherlock has the information in his letter, but I have also written them overleaf in case he conveniently forgets.

I look forward to meeting you finally and for the chance of us to get to know each other well enough to be close enough to dispel formality that Mycroft loves to cling to so much.

I have heard many things from both of my sons - all of it good, I assure you – and I look forward to being able to put a face to the name and actions.

Yours truly,

Annabelle Holmes

Sure enough when John looked at the second page there was a date and the address of Holmes Manor. John didn't know what to say as he sat in his chair.

"What did Mummy say to you?" Sherlock asked folding his pages up and sliding them back into the envelope.

"She, ah, welcomed me to the family, said that she was looking forward to meeting me. Mycroft told her about us it seems."

"He never could keep things to himself. She gave me a telling off in my letter. Told me I should have been the one to tell her about us, even if it was a phone call. She wants us to go to a gathering, to meet you."

"I think it's a great idea."

"It's a terrible idea. We're not going, John."

"I thought you loved your Mum."

"I do, but that place…please."

"We're going. Sherlock, to be part of a family is to take all of it, both sides. You've met Harry, and she is all I have. You have Mycroft, your Mum…probably cousins and aunts that can help me to know who you were. I have to at least meet them once."

Sherlock sat in his chair and sulked for a good hour. He just sat and stared into space while John sorted dinner and made calls. Then he sat and wrote one letter to a Mrs A. Holmes confirming the attendance of Sherlock and himself to the party in two weeks time for the Saturday and overnight to the Sunday.

All John had to do was get Sherlock there.

A/N: I would just like to thank all of you who have put down this story or myself as a favourite or alert. Keep reviewing, this story is so close to 30 reviews!

Kh36887, Reading-in-the-Corner, Professor CatEars, Kitsunewinter, otalam, Iris Cullen 13, Lucy Evonel, arrianablue, GWP4ever, ficweaver, MotatoPotato, spinningathena, Honourable, PrescriptionMcCoy, EccoGamer, whogirl1993, crissil, jinxxa, xSommerRegen, Dareagon, Z Grilles alerts and favs from the last few months. You guys are great!

There are still a few more chapters to go of this, which do focus on John and Sherlock but I am working on other things too, so please keep an eye out for them.