A/N: Sorry for the long, long, long wait. Gosh, so long I'm so sorry. I had a long summer, I was freakishly busy while I wasn't working. Anyway, I've made up for it (I hope) with sex. And some emotion. Hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading!


Seven Years Later


Sherlock has a mental countdown to when John enlists and eventually leaves. He'll finish med school next year; he'll spend a year in a hospital before leaving. Or, hopefully not leaving. John will be twenty-six by then, and even though he exercises every day, Sherlock hopes he won't be fit enough to be taken. But, realistically, the British Army isn't likely to turn him down.

So Sherlock checks off an internal calendar every day. Every morning that John kisses him awake, Sherlock marks it off. 760 more good morning kisses…730 more good morning kisses…

But he tries to make the best of it. While John goes for his morning run, he gets all of his emotions out so he can be happy when John gets back.

And when John returns home, it's good. Sherlock, now more calm from the few cigarettes he had while John was gone, always appreciates exercise-John. If he does more than just run, like sit-ups or squats or if he visits the gym, John's muscles stand out from overuse. His skin glistens gorgeously with sweat, he's hot and his cheeks are red and his hair is standing up in different directions.

Today, when John returns home, Sherlock is leaning over their kitchen island working on his newest experiment. He hears the door open, hears John drop his bag—which means he went to the gym—and he stands up straight as he hears John enter the kitchen.

But John says nothing; he steps right behind Sherlock and wraps his arms around Sherlock's middle. John's hot mouth touches Sherlock's neck, and Sherlock knows today is one of the good mornings. John usually returns from the gym worked up, his blood flowing and his needs heavy. Sherlock knows exactly what is happening when one of John's hands finds its way up his shirt, rubbing slowly up his chest to finger one of his nipples.

Sherlock's breathe catches and his head drops forward. John presses himself fully against Sherlock, his lips still touching gently at the back of Sherlock's neck. Sherlock feels John's erection against the back of his thigh, and he pushes back against it.

John silently yanks Sherlock by the hips and pushes him all the way to the bedroom, somehow palming Sherlock's growing erection through his pajama bottoms the whole way. Sherlock loses track and lets John push him, and before he knows it he's being pushed down onto the bed. Sherlock barely has time to catch himself before he's thrown face first into the mattress, before John pulls his pajamas down.

He did take a shower, and he is clean, and John must know that somehow—Sherlock leaks a little at the thought of John's deductive skills—because the next thing he knows, John's tongue is buried as deep as it'll go in his hole.

Sherlock moans and bucks wildly. He doesn't hold back, he lets his body react as it pleases at the feeling of John's slick hot tongue inside him. When John reaches up and tugs at his balls, Sherlock has to grab the base of his cock to stop himself from coming already.

Sherlock doesn't notice John getting lube, but eventually John's fingers join his tongue. Sherlock pushes back against those talented digits, fucking himself on John's fingers while John kisses his back. He's still quiet, but Sherlock is making enough noise for the both of them.

Finally, when Sherlock knows he's ready, John stands and for a second Sherlock is empty before he feels something blunt against his loose hole. John's cock is hard and hot and he smoothly slides in, still making no noise but gripping Sherlock's hips as tight as he can.

Sherlock takes a few deep breaths before he loses his breath entirely when John begins to slam into him roughly. He hits Sherlock's prostate perfectly every time, and Sherlock screams out in pleasure every few thrusts.

Sherlock comes quickly, but John lasts a few more hard thrusts before his finger nails dig into Sherlock's skin and he grunts in pleasure. Sherlock falls flat on the bed and John follows, his softening cock still buried in Sherlock's arse.

John tugs at Sherlock's ear with his teeth and tongue, and he whispers wickedly, "I want to keep fucking you all day."

Sherlock reaches back and grabs his hip, only nodding in reply because he still hasn't caught his breath.

Some days, John is like this. On days like this, he can't stop touching Sherlock, he can't get his hands out of Sherlock's pants.

Some days, John is quiet. And loving. Not that he isn't loving during the sex they have, but some days John kisses Sherlock delicately with no ulterior motives, only to physically tell Sherlock in this way that he loves him.

Some days, John won't stop picking at every little thing that Sherlock does that makes him mad. John can't stop pointing out how annoying Sherlock can be at all times; he says a million times those days that Sherlock can't do anything on his own, that Sherlock can't function without him. When the moment of annoyance ends, he apologizes profusely to Sherlock. And Sherlock knows John doesn't really feel that way.

These days, Sherlock knows John is trying to find his own reasons to not leave Sherlock. Whether it's lust, or love, or obligation, Sherlock knows nothing will change John's mind, and that's why John is trying to find so many reasons. He wants to go, and Sherlock knows this. But this is John's own way of counting down.

Sherlock wishes he could help convince John to stay, but he knows he can't. If John stays for him, there would be eventual regret, John would become unhappy and resent Sherlock. And Sherlock could never handle that.

He has no choice but to let John get through this waiting period on his own. He's there for John, he lets John show him love, he has sex with John (as much as he wants, John does stop if Sherlock tells him to), he picks the fights with John that John clearly wants, then makes up later.

But Sherlock fears it isn't the healthiest thing in the world. But, the countdown is on for that to end, too.


A/N: My thoughts are not shared with Sherlock's! If you are with a relationship with someone like this, get out of that relationship. It will be resolved, I promise.