Author's Note:

Last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with this story. All the reviews, subscriptions and favorites are absolutely amazing. I never expected so many people to enjoy the story. There will be final note at the end, going into the sequel briefly.

It wasn't until late afternoon the next day until Sherlock woke up once more. He hadn't realized just how much he had drained himself physically when he and John had given each other hand jobs. The drugs and sleep were helping though because he was feeling much better. Then he remembered John would be going back to the war. He sighed at the thought, letting his eyes finally open.

John had been awake since the early morning but didn't bother to move, instead watching Sherlock and taking everything in. When Sherlock woke up he smiled. "Morning," he whispered and placed a kiss on Sherlock's temple, the arm around his shoulders tightening a bit. "You slept for a while. Feeling better?" He moved his free hand under Sherlock's chin to gently lift his head up.

"Actually, yes." Sherlock replied and it was true. He wasn't just saying that to get the hell out of the hospital. Although, he did want to leave as soon as possible so he asked, "We can leave now?"

"Yes, we can leave now." John smiled softly. "Your nurse came in a few hours ago. I have your discharge papers and everything ready to go." He shifted slightly and grabbed the papers from Mycroft, swiftly hiding them under Sherlock's discharge papers. "I'll grab your clothes. Sit up." He slid off the bed and moved across the room. The white bag holding Sherlock's clothes wrinkled loudly in the room before he set it on Sherlock's bed.

"Oh thank God." Sherlock replied. He was about to yank out the I-V but it was no longer there. In fact, he wasn't hooked up to any kind of machines at all now. He slid out of bed and when he tried to stand, he wobbled to and fro and he had to sit back down on the bed so he wouldn't fall over. His legs weren't used to the weight of his body and weren't quite ready to support his full frame yet. He sighed and started getting dressed while sitting instead.

John moved to stand in front of him, batting his hands away with a smile as he started to button up Sherlock's shirt. "I'm going to need to help you with everything for a while. We'll be at the flat until the end of the week at least." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips and offered his hand. "Just lean on me and we'll make it." The white bag with their papers was already in his other hand and he had a reassuring smile on his face. "And then you'll be relaxing in your chair with a cup of warm tea in no time."

With restraint, Sherlock refrained from yelling at John he could do things on his own. He didn't want help. However, John would be leaving soon and he didn't want to incite a fight between them in the next few weeks. For once, he had made the adult decision instead of the childish one. He grumbled incoherently in frustration but as he stood, he used John for support as instructed.

John wrapped his arm solidly around Sherlock's back and started moving, choosing to ignore the frustrated grumbles coming from his companion. "I'm proud of you," he whispered softly as they managed to get out of his hospital room. "You are acting very responsible right now even though I can tell you really hate it." The smile on his lips was playful and he chuckled. Leave it to Sherlock to surprise him like this, especially given the amount of pain he must've been in.

Sherlock smirked to John, in spite of himself. "Have I become that transparent to you?" He was quiet and then admitted, "Don't want to fight with you before you go." John's support was appreciated more than he thought, because the thought of being pushed around in a wheel chair was more appalling than having to accept help while walking.

John turned his gaze away at Sherlock's admission, not wanting to share that he was thankful for Sherlock doing what he wanted. "Your grumbling kind of gave it away," he muttered as they left the hospital. "That and I just know you really well." John turned to look at Sherlock with a soft smile. "You notice little things like that about the one you love." He hailed a taxi, blushing as it pulled to the curb.

Sherlock smirked yet again, and even with John's help it took more effort and time than he would have liked to get into the cab. Once comfortable, he leaned his head on the cab's window, a hand still holding onto John's.

John squeezed Sherlock's hand, keeping his gaze locked on the consulting detective for a long moment. He needed to take his face in, needed to memorize it all for the nights when he would be alone. The cab lurched to a halt in front of 221B and John hesitantly pulled away from Sherlock's grasp, moving around the car to open the door and help Sherlock into the flat.

With help, Sherlock got out of the cab and up the stairs. It shouldn't have been such a tiring and arduous task, but it had left him a little breathless. He made his way over to the couch, and slumped down into it, glad to be off his feet. "It's good to be home again. Honestly, John if I don't see another hospital ever again it won't be too soon."

"You and me both," John remarked absently as he fell next to Sherlock. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes with a soft groan, licking his lips. "Want some tea?" He asked softly as he grabbed Sherlock's hand, resting them on Sherlock's thigh. "It'll help you relax. Give me time to go through my closet."

"Not yet…" Sherlock said, as he leaned his head onto John's shoulder. "Just want to sit here with you for a little while." He wanted to take a moment and enjoy his flatmate's company. His hand squeezed John's tightly. The other hand reached up to run his fingers through John's hair because he hadn't done it in awhile and he found that he had missed doing so.

John let out a content sigh and leaned into Sherlock's hand, a soft moan escaping his lips. It was the most relaxing feeling after the past few days. "Like that," he stated softly as he rested his head against Sherlock's. The idea of leaving Sherlock suddenly twisted his gut and shortened his breath. He pressed himself against Sherlock's side and slammed his eyes shut. "I love you."

"I know. I love you too." Sherlock replied and then pressed his lips to John's, giving a quick kiss. "Can we just sit like this together for awhile? Just snuggling?" He was quiet for a moment and then he added with a smirk, "Plenty of time on vacation to do all those other things." Part of him really just wanted to enjoy John's company and the other part of him didn't have the energy to do anything else right now.

John nodded in reply, scooting closer to Sherlock and relaxed instantly. "Snuggling with you is nice," he whispered before returning Sherlock's kiss lazily. He smiled a bit when he managed to get his mind away from the fact that he wouldn't be able to do this soon. "Favorite thing," he stifled through a yawn, shifting on the couch to rest his back against the arm rest. He spread his legs and tugged at Sherlock to rest on top of him. "C'mon, relax."

Sherlock laid down with John, his head coming to rest on the other mans chest. His one hand continued to run through the sandy blond locks, while the other came to rest on John's chest. Once more he draws some shapes, this time settling on making cubes. "Yes, I like it too. Strange something so simple and effortless would be appealing to me, but it is." He shrugged a bit, snuggling closer still to the other man's body.

John moved one hand to run softly up and down Sherlock's spine, the other running through Sherlock's hair slowly. A non-committal grunt came from his chest as he closed his eyes and pressed his face into the back of the couch. He needed to sleep. While Sherlock had been drugged he had gone over his deployment papers and watched Sherlock protectively, not moving once to do anything. He was exhausted.

Sherlock's body was relaxed against John's. He smiled into the other man's chest, even though he couldn't see. He drew one large cube on John's chest, imagining it as a Rubik's cube all mixed up. His fingers moved as if actually solving the puzzle, as he envisioned all the colors and the moves he made within his mind. He was a bit tired but he didn't want to sleep. He just wanted to enjoy what time he had left with John before the no longer former army doctor went off to war once more.

John dozed off several moments before lifting his head, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at his chest. "Are you solving a Rubik's cube on my chest?" He asked roughly, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. He rested his head back against the couch but kept his eyes open, studying Sherlock's face. John was content to lay on this couch for the rest of his life with Sherlock in his arms. He could never move and tell people he died happy. And yet the moment he thought of Afghanistan his heartbeat picked up and he wanted to go back more than anything. He tightened his hand in Sherlock's hair and bent down to give him a soft kiss.

It took a moment for Sherlock to realize John had spoken to him, because he was rather intent on solving the puzzle. He was almost done and he took the time to finish it before looking up to John with a grin. "Well, I was. I'm done now." He cocked an eyebrow and asked, "How'd you know? Just based on the movements of my fingers. Hmm, interesting. You must have spent a lot of time trying to solve those and never got anywhere to know?" He twisted his grin into a smirk.

"Yeah, didn't take too long to figure out." John muttered, tilting his head with a laugh. "So I never solved one. No big deal. I was focused on more important things like my homework," he whispered as he shifted slightly below Sherlock, yawning. "You were doing math earlier in the hospital," he replied with a shrug. "Could tell by the triangles and your eyes." His bottom lip disappeared between his teeth as he closed his eyes again.

Sherlock let his smirk get bigger. "Homework, huh? I thought you were busy skipping class and shagging anything with two legs?" He couldn't help but laugh about the triangles. "I think you might be spending too much time with me. You might get to be a right genius yet, Doctor Watson." He tilted his head up so he could give a quick kiss on John's nose. "If my shapes distract you from sleep, though, I'll stop."

"Shagged and did the homework at the same time," John answered smoothly with a straight face before laughing. He was silenced by Sherlock's kiss on his nose, smiling a bit before shaking his head. "No, you're fine. I'll need to get some sleep tonight and if I nap now that won't happen." He squeezed his legs against Sherlock's sides lightly. This moment was perfect. They were both happy. Nothing could change that. John bent to kiss Sherlock's temple and continued to run his hands through Sherlock's shaggy hair.

"What should I draw next? Any suggestions my dear doctor?" Sherlock asked, his head resting once more on John's chest. For the moment, he settled for drawing indiscriminate lines that zigzagged and made no real shape. He made a sort of game out it, trying not to cross where he had previously drawn a line. His other hand was stretched above him, so it could continue to explore John's hair.

"Mmm, this is fine," John replied softly, his words slurring together as his head fell back. "You are going to make me fall asleep." He chuckled and lifted one leg, folding it over one of Sherlock's. The movement of Sherlock's hand was comforting, something he had never realized he had missed until now. "I love just laying here with you. My favorite thing." He moved his hand to rest under Sherlock's shirt, scratching softly at his lower back.

Sherlock played the zigzag game on John's chest a few times, each time more elaborate and ridiculous than the last game. He snuggled deeper into John's body, eyes closing from the light scratching on his back. His body was completely relaxed and at peace. "Love this. Love you. Never want it to end." Rationally, he knew that was impossible but he didn't care. He really did want to freeze this moment in time. His finger eventually stopped drawing lines as he drifted off to sleep. He hadn't meant to but everything was so perfect and his body was so calm, it had just been easy to.

John placed a soft kiss to the top of Sherlock's head, keeping his eyes open to study the man before him. It was crazy, really, how he could up and leave him just for a steady income, just to keep Sherlock happy. And to keep his own selfish needs fed. One tour. He would do one tour and return back to civilian life and stay with Sherlock. He sighed and let his head fall back, deciding to fall asleep as well. He could go through his closet later. Besides, Sherlock needed the rest as much as he did.

It was dark by the time Sherlock woke back up and he stirred lightly. He was in a bit of pain, from falling asleep on his bad side. He grunted and shifted slightly to help alleviate the pressure to the incision on his body. He wasn't sure what time it was, but judging by the position of the moon behind the clouds it was early morning, three or four.

John took a sharp intake of breath, his face tensing as he twisted slightly beneath Sherlock. "Trying to sleep," he muttered gruffly as he threw an arm over his eyes, the other one tightening around Sherlock's upper torso. For a moment he was still before he frowned at the realization that he probably wasn't going back to sleep. "You alright?" He didn't move his arm as he asked, tensing his body slightly to stretch his muscles.

"Didn't mean to wake you. I'm fine, I was just a bit uncomfortable and needed to move." Sherlock left out the part of the pain he was in, because he didn't want to worry John. He just wanted to continue to stay with the other man on the couch for as long as possible.

John pulled his hand away to study Sherlock, his eyes narrowed. "You're incisions doing good?" He asked slowly, a brow raised questioningly. He figured he should get used to waking up early anyway. "We should probably move you into a bed so there's more room," he whispered as he moved hair from Sherlock's forehead. "We can still snuggle but you need some room to actually rest."

Sherlock looked up to John with a mischievous grin, "What if I don't want to just snuggle anymore?" His hand slid under John's shirt and began to scratch lightly upon his stomach. He pushed himself closer to John's head, by pressing his feet against the arm of the couch. He ignored the friction and pain that it caused and began to kiss the army doctor's neck.

"Sherlock, you're insati-" John cut himself off with a soft moan. His stomach tensed under the scratches and his head lifted to expose more of his neck. "Fuck yes," he whispered as he moved a leg to press his heel into Sherlock's lower back. It was simple for John, really. Any sort of intimate contact, especially with Sherlock, diverted any thought out of his mind. His hands settled at the back of Sherlock's neck. "You sure?" He whispered, using his feet to press Sherlock's hips against his own.

Sherlock smirked behind the kiss and began sucking on John's neck. "Mmmhmm," he murmured between suckles. His body instantly reacted to the pressure on his hips, his lower torso pressing eagerly into the man below him. He worked his kisses up to John's ear and whispered, "how about we wake up the whole neighborhood?" He smirked again and began nibbling and licking all over John's ear. His hand under the shirt continued to its light scratching, his other hand was still tangled in the army doctor's hair.

John swallowed hard and nodded the best he could. "Yes. Oh God yes." He dug his nails into the back of Sherlock's neck as he lifted his hips, pressing his erection into Sherlock's hip bone. "Bed. Now," he growled. This was going to happen, he was certain, and the thought caused a loud moan to echo through the flat.

If Sherlock had been capable, he would have picked up John and carried him to the bed. However, he knew in his current weakened state that would never work and ruin everything. He fumbled off the couch, using the coffee table for support. He was panting and ignoring the pain his chest and side was giving off. He glanced over to John, fixing his gaze on the other man and his voice was almost a whining plea, "Carry me? Need this. Need you." He didn't care if that would make him the submissive this time around, he wanted it badly and nothing was going to get in the way of it this time damn it.

John stumbled to his feet with a nod, moving toward Sherlock and pressing their bodies flush together. "Love you," he muttered as he pressed his mouth into Sherlock's neck. He bent slightly at the knees, his hands in the back of Sherlock's thighs, and in one swift movement he lifted Sherlock off the ground and wrapped his legs around his waist. John's hands splayed across Sherlock's back as he supported Sherlock's weight, waking forward with a quick stride. The moment he got into Sherlock's room he placed Sherlock in his bed, easily crawling over him to straddle his hips and roughly kissed Sherlock.

Sherlock nuzzled into John's neck as he was carried, nibbling on it lightly while he mumbled that he loved John too. He looked up at the army doctor as the other man straddled him, but as soon as they kiss his eyes closed. His arms wrapped around John's waist, pulling him closer as his fingers slid under the shirt to scratch along the back.

John gasped and reached between them, not bothering to unbutton Sherlock's shirt and instead ripping it off. The buttons flew around them, bouncing off the headboard. He lowered his mouth to Sherlock's exposed chest, sucking on the skin greedily. "Need to go upstairs and get some Vaseline," he growled as he lifted his head to meet Sherlock's gaze.

For a moment, Sherlock was utterly vexed. Oh… "Does it matter or really make a difference?" He breathed out, because really he didn't want to wait. His body was writhing and twitching into John's with anticipation and impatience.

"Yes, it really matters." John ripped himself away from Sherlock, stumbling over his own feet as he left the room in a rush. He returned a minute later, tossing a container of Vaseline on the bed as he stripped out of his jeans and pulled his shirt over his head. The bed creaked slightly under his weight as he straddled Sherlock again, his hands wrapping around his dog tags that were still on Sherlock's neck. His chest moved with every deep breath before he bent and softly met Sherlock's lips.

While Sherlock waited, he removed his ripped shirt and was in the process of taking off his pants when John came back in. He had finished taking them off by the time the army doctor had straddled him again. He deepened the kiss, his arms once more wrapping around John's waist.

John grinned into the kiss before pulling away, his tongue darting from his mouth to lick his lips. "Sherlock, if you feel uncomfortable at any time you have got to tell me, alright?" He shifted, sliding his knee between Sherlock's legs in a gentle attempt to spread them. "If you are in pain, if you don't like it... just tell me. I won't be upset or anything." He placed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's lips before his hands moved to Sherlock's underwear, giving them a gentle tug. Hand jobs and blow jobs were one thing, especially to Sherlock. What they were about to do was a very serious step forward and he didn't want Sherlock to think it was forced. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"It'll be fine, I'll be fine." Sherlock said, as he stared up at John. His body shivered excitedly, when the army doctor tugged at his underwear. Truthfully, he was nervous and yet anxious at the same time. He wasn't sure what to expect. If he would like it or not. So far, he had really liked everything else that came with the intimate part of a relationship. He opted to lay still, so he could take it all in, fingers resting on John's back lightly as he waited.

John bit his bottom lip and gave his head a small nod before he pulled Sherlock's underwear down, lifting himself slightly so he could pull them completely off of Sherlock's legs. "I love you," he whispered. The underwear were tossed behind him, his hand moving to flip the top off the Vaseline. "I love you," he repeated as he spread Sherlock's legs, settling between him. One hand dipped into the Vaseline, smearing a bit on his three fingers, while the other grabbed Sherlock's cock. "I love you," he moved to gently meet Sherlock's lips. His hand moved between their bodies, finding Sherlock's entrance with ease. "I love you," he said against Sherlock's lips as he slipped one finger in to the second knuckle, hooking it. "I love you," he pumped his hand several times on Sherlock's cock, moving his finger out of Sherlock and swiftly back in.

The litany of "I love you's" from John made Sherlock a little nervous. He wasn't sure how to interpret them. He didn't dwell on it long though because his body became ensnared in blissful ecstasy. A sensory over load would be putting it mildly. Sherlock gasped, from the two completely different sensations because he hadn't expected John to do both. In fact, it wasn't what he had expected at all. His breath instantly became ragged as his body and mind fought to process everything that was happening. He closed his eyes, as he struggled for a normal breathing pattern but failing. His fingernails dig into John's back, his lower torso squirming almost uncontrollably. Not from displeasure but because it was intoxicated with every sensation it was feeling and while his body wished to enhance the feeling it was having trouble keeping up.

John grit his teeth as he felt Sherlock's nails digging into his back, hissing slightly as he arched his back into it to get a better view of Sherlock's lower body. "It's okay," he whispered. "You're fine, deep breaths." He looked up at Sherlock before pulling his finger completely out of him, slowly pushing back in with two. "You're fine, Sherlock. Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth." The hand on Sherlock's cock slowed, the touch lighter, to see if it would help Sherlock settle down. His two fingers worked completely inside Sherlock, scissoring several times before freezing. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Sherlock breathed out. "Don't stop." He said between breaths, his eyes opening to look up at John. "God, please don't stop." He swallowed hard, his breathing finally becoming a little less erratic. Trying to speak and breathe was proving too much and he gave John a small smile of assurance, his eyes closing once more. His fingers continued to claw at John's back, mainly because they don't have anything else to do and it was more of an automatic thing. He bucked against John with a whimper of desire.

John flashed a half-smile before it turned into a grin. "Christ, Sherlock," he groaned, letting go of Sherlock's penis to grab the Vaseline container. He pulled his fingers out of Sherlock, got another bit of Vaseline, and he entered Sherlock with his three fingers. It was quicker than he would have liked but he was eager. Sherlock was bucking beneath him which meant he was enjoying it. John took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, meeting Sherlock's lips in a sloppy kiss. "You need to tell me when you think you're ready," he muttered as he nudged Sherlock's mouth open with his tongue.

Maybe his mind was just overloaded at the moment, because he didn't quite comprehend John's meaning right away. Ready? There was more to this still? Well, fuck. Sherlock wasn't sure his body could withstand anything else, but he was insatiably curious by nature. Eventually it dawned on him what John had meant. Since his breathing was still thready, short bursts he merely nodded his consent. He returned John's kiss, sloppily and with a little force. He was breathing through his nose now, rapid fractures of hot air being expelled at staggered rates on John's face. He continued to scratch, his lower body finally found some semblance of rhythm as it rocked against the man on top of him.

Was that a nod? John took several deep breaths, swallowing as he pulled away from Sherlock's face to get a good look at him. "Okay, okay." He pulled his fingers from Sherlock and grabbed both of Sherlock's knees. "Keep them up, bent," he instructed calmly. He dipped his hand into the Vaseline and unbent his knees so he was no longer sitting back on his heels. He grabbed Sherlock's knee with his free hand, squeezing it tightly as he started to rub the Vaseline across his cock slowly. His head was bowed, chin pressing against his chest, and his eyes closed. He let out several noisy breaths from his nose before leaning over Sherlock. His free hand slid under Sherlock's lower back to arch him up a bit for a better angle. "You ready?" He asked breathlessly.

Sherlock opened his eyes when John moved away and he watched the other man with interest. He did as instructed, and moved with John. In the reprieve, he managed to get some sort of normal breathing in, followed by a few large gulps of air. He became faintly aware of the pain throbbing in his chest but promptly ignored it. "Oh God yes." He smirked a bit, as he remembered the first time John had ever said those words. That moment in time had forged a bond between him and John that would probably never be broken. His hands tangled in the sheets below him, as he braced himself.

John took a deep breath and used his hand to guide his cock into Sherlock's body. He moaned loudly, his hips moving slowly as his other hand slammed into the bed next to Sherlock's head and tightly gripped the sheet. "Ah, fuck," he pushed Sherlock's head to the side with his own, his forehead on Sherlock's cheek, and stilled when his cock was halfway into the body beneath him. "God, Sherlock," he let out a loud breath. "Can I keep going? You okay?" He asked through gritted teeth.

There was the briefest moment of discomfort and pain, because his body wasn't used to withstanding such a thing happening. However, his body jerked in anticipation. He closed his eyes, as his breathing picked up a rapid pace once more. He gave a nod, the grip on the sheets becoming tighter. "D-don't s-stop." He wasn't sure if he was stuttering because of his breathing or because he was adjusting to the new sensations his body was giving off.

John let out a choked sound before pushing completely into Sherlock. "Jesus," he twisted the hand tangled in the sheets. His head turned to lazily meet Sherlock's lips as his hips pulled back slightly and moved forward again. "Sherlock," he let go of the sheets and searched for one of Sherlock's hands, grasping it the best he could despite the slippery Vaseline on his skin. "God, I love you," he growled. "I fucking love you." His hips pulled back and came forward with a bit more force, a moan echoing through the room.

Sherlock's hand instantly squeezed John's, and he growled into the kiss when there was a second thrust. He bit the army doctor's bottom lip before edging his tongue inside the other man's mouth to explore and tangle with the other tongue. His body began to automatically rock in time with John's movements. His whole body felt tantalizing numbness, or at least that was the best way could explain it, even though the words effectively meant opposite things. The sensation and feeling was far different than anything else he and John had done together. He hadn't been sure if we would like it, but he did. He growled again, breaking the kiss and began to nibble on John's neck.

A small shout fell from John's lips as he thrust into Sherlock with a solid rhythm. It was then that he realized he was the only one being a bit more vocal about their activity. "Shit," he squeezed Sherlock's hand and snapped his hips forward in three quick, rough thrusts. He was determined to make Sherlock scream so loud that Baker Street would know. The hand on Sherlock's lower back slid out and splayed just below Sherlock's belly button as he thrust into Sherlock again. "Ah, God, you're amazing," he nipped at Sherlock's ear the best he could.

For a moment Sherlock has to stop his biting kisses on John's neck from the quick thrusts inside, with a loud growl that ended up turning into a whimpering moan. The hand that isn't holding onto John's, gripped the headboard behind him, to prevent himself from sliding too far. He looked up to John with a faint smirk on his lips. Really he wanted to go faster and harder, but with control he continued to submit to John's pace. His hand finally let go of John's and it found the back of the army doctor's head. He grabbed as much hair as he could grasp, tugging a bit roughly.

John opened his mouth in a gasp, letting his head get yanked back. "Ah, damn." He slammed his eyes shut as he got the hint. Sherlock would want to do this rough. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, before he almost completely pulled out of Sherlock. He opened one eye, smirked, and thrust forward as hard as he could, doing it again and slowly speeding up. "Fuck, yes, Sherlock." His free hand grabbed a handful of Sherlock's hair and tugged gently with each rough thrust. "C'mon Sherlock, tell me about it," he growled, running his hand from Sherlock's hair to lightly wrap around his cock but not moving.

Once more Sherlock's breathing became erratic, but he still managed a twisted smirk at John's words. Talking and being loud just wasn't his style really, he had discovered. However, if it was what John wanted he would try. He growled throatily and loudly, excited from the thrusting and his hair being pulled. His body shivered from John grabbing his penis. Between breaths he sputtered out, "John...feels good...real good..." He could feel himself getting tired, his body not really ready for this kind of rigorous activity. He ignored it and continued to push himself, his lower torso writhed in time with the quick thrusts from the man above him.

John let out a strangled moan before dropping his head, his forehead pressed against Sherlock's shoulder. "Close, 'M close," he muttered as his hips snapped forward, starting to break the rhythm. The hand on Sherlock's cock started to stroke him quickly. "Love you."He lifted his head and met Sherlock's lips, breaking away almost instantly as his entire body rigid. "Sherlock," his name was a scream as John came, his hand working furiously and without a rhythm as his hips thrust lazily and slow several times. John was breathing hard, eyes closed with sweat running down his temple. "Love you, Sherlock," he whispered as his hand continued to work on his cock.

Sherlock watched John climax with the same fascination he had when the army doctor had masturbated. The sensation inside was also interesting but his mind wasn't really focused on that, because John was pumping his cock. He had already been very hard since they had got in the bedroom, so really it only took a few strokes to get Sherlock off. His body tensed, fingers digging into John's scalp and the back of the bed frame. He let out a loud groan of pleasure as he came and then went lax soon after the release. He continued to breathe heavily, his chest burning. "Love you too," he panted out between each shaky breath.

John pulled out of Sherlock with a small groan, falling on to the bed next to Sherlock with a heavy sigh. "That was..." he gulped in some air and laughed, turning his head to look at Sherlock. "Wow." He placed a small kiss on Sherlock's cheek. The bed was messy, he realized, and he slowly started to clean up. He removed the Vaseline container and slowly moved off the bed, moving into the bathroom. "Are you okay?" John asked softly as he cleaned Sherlock's stomach off gently, finishing cleaning him a bit rougher. It couldn't have been extremely comfortable with his incisions. The sun was starting to peak into the window and he sighed. "Relax, how about I make some tea?"

Eventually his breathing returned to an almost normal pattern, but his chest still hurt. Sherlock was trying to decide if was capable of staying awake, because he was very exhausted from pushing his body far beyond its limits. Pretty much his whole body ached and it begged for a dose of drug. He knew that familiar pang and promptly ignored it. Maybe after John left he would go back to using drugs, but right now he wanted to remain clean so he could enjoy this month with the army doctor. He finally fixated his gaze on John, "Think I'm just going to lay here and not move. Maybe sleep some more." He muttered and actually passed out before he realized what had happened.

The next few days went by, with just Sherlock and John enjoying each other's company at the flat. Most time was spent snuggling on the bed or the couch, John insisting nothing else be done so Sherlock could heal properly and would be able to fly and travel safely. At the end of the week, the two boarded a plane and took a much needed and deserved vacation in a secluded part of Scotland.

Ending Note:

The sequel to the story will be called 'Dear John' and will deal with how Sherlock copes with John away. There will not be as much Johnlock interaction, but you will get to see the letters shared and Skype calls between the two. It looks like there will be a case or two and some surprises as well, which I won't delve into. I hope you will continue to travel with Sherlock and John in this new chapter in their life! The first chapter should be posted either Saturday or at the latest on Monday!