"Good morning, Sherlock," John sighed, walking into the sitting room with a cup of tea in his hand. He was dressed in a pea green dressing gown and had his pajamas on underneath.

He sat next to Sherlock on the sofa and curled up next to him. He rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder and pulled up his knees. Sherlock wrapped his free arm around John as he read the paper. He kissed the top of John's sandy hair and mumbled a "Good morning," in return.

They sat there for a few minutes, reading about a recent murder that took place in another country. Sherlock sighed and put the paper down.

"It was the sister," he said. "Obvious. In the background of the security camera picture, you can see a shadow that's holding a..." he rambled, and after a while, John stopped listening.

He though about how lucky he was to have a boyfriend like Sherlock. He left body parts in the refrigerator, true, and conducted lethal experiments on the kitchen table, but at least he was smart, funny (when he wanted to be), had an interesting life that John shared, and, John had to admit, he was a damn good kisser.

Three years ago, Sherlock had faked his death, leaving John alone and broken. However, a few months ago, Sherlock had returned, and just a short while ago (on New Year's Eve), they had become a couple.

When Sherlock stopped talking, John announced that he would make breakfast. He made them both an omelet, then sat next to Sherlock again. He leaned against his flatmate and placed his head on Sherlock's shoulder again. Sherlock laid his head on top of John's, and they stayed like that for a long time.

After they both finished eating, Sherlock turned to John and captured his lips. John sighed in happiness- he had been hoping for this- and wrapped his arms around Sherlock. He tilted his head for the ideal kissing angle and opened his mouth, letting Sherlock's tongue find its way into John's mouth.

With a moan, John moved closer to Sherlock. He was practically sitting on top of Sherlock now, and he slid his hand through the collar of Sherlock's shirt, trailing his hands over the other man's chest.

"I love you, you know that?" John moaned as Sherlock kissed and sucked at John's neck, right where his pulse was. It was beating hard and fast.

Sherlock groaned in response and clutched at the back of John's shirt. He pulled John over him, so that the ex-army doctor was straddling the detective. He lay back against the arm of the sofa and brought his lips towards John's once again.

Half an hour later, John pulled away finally. His dressing gown was off and thrown across the room, while his pyjama shirt was half unbuttoned.

He retrieved his robe and pecked Sherlock on the cheek, before heading towards his room to change into clothes for the day.


Somewhere in the many twisted and cloudy streets of London, Greg Lestrade walked down the street, texting on his phone. Suddenly, a hand came out from the alley and grabbed his neck, pulling him into the darkened alley.