Ok, I meant to leave this story alone- I really did, but this scene (and others but I promise to leave it alone) kept plaguing my mind and I could not get it out until I wrote it down. If you liked the previous ending, you could read this as a one-shot. This scene is meant to be a snap-shot of life with Sherlock and John a few months after the previous chapter took place.

Enjoy :)

"Bored!" Sherlock bellowed, dramatically flinging himself into his armchair opposite John, who was currently watching telly (or trying to watch telly over the sound of Sherlock throwing a tantrum) and not paying attention to him. He glared at John as if he were personally responsible for the lack of interesting cases.


He closed his eyes in grief, sighing in frustration. When he finally opened them it was to find John staring at him rather oddly.

"What?" Sherlock asked, irritated.

John licked his lips, his eyes dropping to stare at Sherlock's mouth, then he blushed- actually blushed- and looked away. "Nothing."

Suddenly, Sherlock was not so bored.

"What is it?"

"Jesus, Sherlock, just drop it." John said, picking up a newspaper and trying to hide behind it. It took 3 minutes before he felt Sherlock's eyes boring a hole through the paper and put it down with a sigh.

"I just…I promised you that if I got out…I would snog you when you were bored." John said, his voice low enough to send a delicious shiver down Sherlock's spine. He watched John's eyes darken and flick up and down his body.

"I am very… very…very bored, John." Sherlock said, pitching his voice lower, just how he knew John liked. He decided to ignore the glaring fact that John had never promised him any such thing, but he was sure John would explain it eventually.

John smirked and stood, limping the few feet to where Sherlock sat. He straddled Sherlock's thighs and enjoyed the sight of the consulting detective beneath him, his face upturned, a wicked smile curving his lips, waiting for John to make a move.

John ghosted his lips across Sherlock's, teasingly, and Sherlock growled beneath him, his hands gripping John's hips and trying to pull him closer. John drew away and smirked, laughing a bit at the expression on Sherlock's face.

Sherlock suddenly lifted John and took him to the floor, capturing his lips as soon as John's back hit the carpet with a small thud. John wrapped his legs around Sherlock's hips and cradled his face in his hands, steering the kiss and gentling it- a bit.

Sherlock was having none of that and caught John's wrists , tugging his hands away from his face. He placed them above John's head and smiled, a slow, predatory smile, before rubbing his erection against John's, the friction through their trousers both arousing and maddening.

"We…we can't again, Sherlock," John gasped, closing his eyes and arching up beneath him, rolling his hips to get maximum pressure to his cock. "Mrs. Hudson-"

"John, if you are going to talk about Mrs. Hudson at a time like this…" Sherlock said indignantly before leaning down, placing his weight on John's trapped wrists, and biting down on John's neck with retaliatory force, causing John to arch and thrust against him.

"Ok…ok…just…oh, fuck. Oh, fuckfuckfuck, just…don't be so l-loud this time."

"No promises." Sherlock replied and John laughed.

"Oh, fuck, I love you." He gasped as Sherlock did something entirely wicked with his tongue.

Sherlock laughed against his neck, the low rumble causing John to shudder. "I love you."