Sherlock 1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Wow. Thank you so much for all of your support. It really means a lot to me. Since my last story received so many comments (and views), I decided to write the next installment of Sherlock's and John's journey. Below, you will find the first chapter of this installment. I hope that you enjoy it!  
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They were going on their honeymoon. They were actually going to go on their honeymoon. Sherlock, surprisingly, could not wait to get to Spain. He had thought a few weeks ago that he would not want to leave London - he thought that he would miss solving cases- but he didn't really care about cases at the moment. Okay, that may have been a bit of a lie.

Sherlock Holmes would always care about cases. He loved solving them; he loved the thrill that a case produced. However, he would make an exception of not solving cases in order to spend some time with John. John, the one person that had somehow managed to slip his way into Sherlock's heart and make it his home.

He zipped up his suitcase before rolling it out to the sitting room, where John was waiting for him. John threw on his coat and smiled at Sherlock.

"Ready?" he asked, glancing up at Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded.

"Of course."

John's smile grew into a grin as he started to wheel his suitcase down the steps that led to their flat. Sherlock followed with his suitcase, darting down the stairs so he could meet John who was already out the door. John was waiting in a cab when Sherlock made it outside. He ran over to the cab and threw his suitcase next to his seat and smiled at John.

"What are you smiling about?" John asked, smiling himself.

"I'm happy that we're finally heading to the airport. I'm very much looking forward to this trip."

John nodded.

"It should be great. The weather is looking nice, too, so we should be able to enjoy the beach."

Sherlock reached for John's hand and squeezed it gently.

"Even if the weather wasn't cooperating...I still think that this would be a nice trip."

They sat in the cab, holding hands, for a while. Sherlock wasn't quite sure how long it took them to get from 221B to the airport. However, he was happy when the cab pulled over so he and John could get out. John slid out of the cab and pulled his suitcase out of it while Sherlock exited the cab from the other side. He paid the cab driver and then joined John on the sidewalk.

"Let's go," Sherlock said, holding John's hand with his other.

They walked into the airport, hand in hand. Sherlock glanced at John and grinned, unable to stop smiling. He was married. To John- his John. John smiled back at Sherlock, unable to believe that he was married to the man walking next to him. They walked over to the area that dealt with checking-in. Sherlock led them over the line closest to them and huffed when he realized that even though the line was short, it was still going to take a little bit of time before they were able to check in and find their gate.

"Sherlock, relax...we'll get checked in eventually. We still have three more hours until the flight leaves- we'll be fine." John said soothingly, trying to calm him.

He crossed his arms and pouted.

"I just want to find our gate."

"We will. Just be patient."

Sherlock wrapped his arm around John and pulled him closer to him. John leaned against him, not caring if they were showing 'affection' in public. He was now a married man- he could do what he wanted.

After a few minutes, it was their turn. The receptionist checked them in and gave them their 'official' boarding passes. They gave her their luggage, and then left to find their gate.

"See? That didn't take too long." John said, nudging Sherlock gently.

"Yes, I know. I'm just anxious, I suppose."

"You're alway anxious." He teased.

Sherlock pouted. "I am not always anxious!"

"Okay, maybe you're not always anxious, but you know what I mean," John said, smiling softly.

"Yes, I understand what you're saying."

Sherlock led him to an escalator, hopping off quickly when they reach the next floor. John pulled Sherlock to the side so he could look at the different signs that were on the walls.

"Okay, let's go this way."

He led Sherlock left, towards a row of gates. Sherlock grunted as they passed one after another after another.

"What gate are we again?" he asked, annoyed.

John glanced at his ticket.

"G15." He glanced at the gate that was the closest to them. "We're almost there. Come on."

He led Sherlock farther down the corridor until they found their gate. Some people milled about, but it wasn't the full. Not as full as John thought it would be, anyways. He took a seat near the check-in desk. Sherlock took a seat next to him and sighed.

"What is it?" John asked, glancing at him.

"Nothing."

John gave Sherlock a look.

"Come on, Sherlock. I know that it isn't 'nothing'."

"Just bored."

"But we just got here...how can you be bored?"

"Nothing to do." He opened his eyes and glanced at John. "I can't even fool around with you."

John blushed softly.

"Look, I brought some books and newspapers for you to read. Also...we'll have plenty of time to 'fool' around when we arrive in Spain."

"Newspapers?" He leaned froward and opened up the messenger bag that John had brought with him. He rifled through the newspapers. "These are all newspapers that I have read, John." He threw them back into the bag and crossed his arms.

"Well, I could not get ahold of newspapers that haven't been printed yet, Sherlock."

He pouted and crossed his arms.

"You could have bought a tablet or something for me."

John ran a hand down his face as he emitted a small chuckle. He swore that he was dealing with a two year-old sometimes.

"Well, I didn't want to spend the money on that. If you want, we can go walk around the airport and see what shops are open."

His face lit up. He stands and grabs John's hand, pulling him towards him.

"Let's go, then!"

He normally didn't like shopping, but he was bored and this was the only activity that appealed to him. John got up and followed him, a small smile on his face. So far, this vacation was going pretty well, and they hadn't even left the country yet.

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**So Sherlock and John are heading to their honeymoon! What will their trip hold? Well, in the following chapters, you will learn all about their trip to Spain.  
As always, thank you so much for your support. It truly means a lot to me.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Here's the next installment! I know that it's a bit short, but the next chapter will be longer. Thank you for your support!  
**

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John followed Sherlock into a ritzy store that only sold suits. While John had no desire to look at suits, Sherlock seemed to be absolutely amazed by the details put into each one.

"You see this sleeve?" He asked John as he pointed to a grey-pine striped suit. "It's made out of a special wool that can only be found in some sheep."

John nodded and smiled.

"That's very neat, Sherlock." He turned towards the door, ready to head back to their gate.

Sherlock groaned and stomped his foot. "No, don't go yet! I'm not finished looking at the suits."

The detective crossed the store and looked at a navy suit. He grabbed the suit jacket and slid it on. He turned toward John, arms lifted on each side.

"What do you think, John?"

John took a step forward and ran his hand down the front of the jacket, wanting to feel the fabric.

"Well, I'd say that it is a very nice jacket." He glanced at the price tag. "However...I think it may be a tad out of our price range."

Sherlock glanced at the price tag and shrugged. "I could always charge it to Mycroft."

"Sherlock, we shouldn't do that."

"Why not? He has plenty of money and it's not like he's doing anything with it." He shrugged the coat off and tossed it over his arm.

"Because it's not very nice to take advantage of people, even if you don't like them. Mycroft worked hard for that money...we shouldn't take it from him."

"Please?"

"No."

He pouted.

"How about we get something for you then, John?"

John shook his head and put the jacket away.

"No, I don't need anything." He said after he put the jacket away. He grabbed Sherlock's elbow and led him out of the store.

Sherlock turned to look at the store. He tried to break out of John's grasp, but John was strong. Stronger than Sherlock had thought that he was. John led him to Pret a Manger. He forced him down at a table.

"Stay here, okay? I'm going to go get food."

"I'm not a child, John."

"Then don't move. I'll be right back."

He turned and quickly ordered some food for Sherlock and him. He took a tray and placed the food back on the table. Sherlock was exactly where John had left him.

"Thank you for staying, Sherlock."

"Where would I go?" He said, frowning.

He shook his head and handed Sherlock a bowl of oatmeal. Sherlock smiled.

"Thank you, John." He said, taking a bite.

Even though he hated eating, oatmeal was one of his favorite foods. It seemed to make him happier every time he ate it.

"You're welcome, Sher." He said quietly. 

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**I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Also, thank you for your continued support!**

**Before you go, feel free to leave a comment about how you like the story so far!**

**Have a great day (or night). **


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Here's the next installment of the story! I hope that you enjoy it! **

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About a half an hour later, Sherlock and John were sitting at their gate again. Sherlock was laying on the chairs, his head perched up in John's lap. John was reading a book while Sherlock hummed. Sherlock wasn't humming very loudly— only John could hear him. He ran a hand through Sherlock's hair.

"That's beautiful." He said quietly.

"Thank you," Sherlock said.

One of the receptionists came to the desk and said that the plane would be boarded shortly. Sherlock smiled.

"Just a little bit more to go until we get to Spain," he said, picking up a newspaper John had gotten.

He turned to a page that looked interesting and started to read an article.

"Anything interesting?" John asked a few minutes later, glancing down at Sherlock.

Sherlock shook his head.

"Nothing of importance."

Luckily for Sherlock the receptionist declared that the plane was going to start boarding. He grinned and glanced at John.

"We are finally getting on the plane!" Sherlock said, standing.

"They haven't called our zone yet, Sherlock."

John pulled on Sherlock's arm to make him sit back down. Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why can't we board again?"

"Because they only let certain zones board at certain times. We have to wait until they call our zone."

"What zone are we again?" He leaned back in the chair.

"Zone three. We'll board in a few minutes. Just be patient." John said, leaning over his bag to make sure they had everything. He took Sherlock's passport and boarding pass out and handed it to him. The detective glanced at his passport picture and shook his head.

"My passport picture is atrocious, John." He said, showing him the picture.

"Everyone's passport picture is not very good. I mean, look at mine." He opened his passport and showed Sherlock his picture.

"Wow, that is not a very good picture of you." Sherlock said, shaking his head.

John shrugged and pulled his coat on.

"We are now ready to board Zone three." The receptionist said over the intercom. Sherlock grinned and stood up.

"Let's go, John!" Sherlock said, tugging John's hand.

John shook his head but smiled fondly at Sherlock. He stood and walked over to the queue with Sherlock. Sherlock pouted softly and crossed his arms over his chest.

"We will _never _get there at this rate. Why does it take so long for people to simply board a plane?"

"Because people have to put there stuff away and take a seat." John said, touching Sherlock's arm. "We'll be on the plane, soon, though."

Sure enough, Sherlock and John were on the plane about twenty minutes later. Sherlock pointed to the aisle seat once they had reached their row.

"I want the aisle seat, John."

John let out a small sigh but nodded. He slid into the row and sat down. Sherlock sat down next to him and smiled.

"Now I can watch people and deduce things about them." He said, glancing over at John.

"Come on, Sherlock, be nice."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I won't _tell _anyone about my deductions. I will simply tell you them. Is that a problem?"

John pinched the bridge of his nose. Sherlock frowned and glanced down at his hands.

"I'm sorry. I won't deduce anything about anyone."

John smiled and wrapped his arm around Sherlock's shoulders.

"No, you can tell me your deductions. Just don't scream them out." He glanced around the crowded plane. "Some people may not appreciate them."

He didn't care if no one appreciated his deductions. All he cared about was John being amused by them. He didn't make a fuss though. This was their honeymoon; he wanted it to go smoothly.

"Okay...I will only tell you."

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**Okay! So I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. Feel free to leave your thoughts in a comment below! Also, as always, thank you so much for taking the time to read this story. It truly means a lot to me. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Since people have been telling me that they want the chapters to be longer, I finally posted a longer chapter! I hope that you enjoy it, and as always, thank you for your continued support. It truly means a lot. **

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Sherlock had thought that it would take a long time to take off, but he was incorrect. About thirty minutes after they boarded, they were taking off, heading towards the clouded sky. John glanced out of the window and watched them rush through the clouds.

"Incredible, huh?" John murmured, glancing over his shoulder at Sherlock.

"Yes. it is. I've have always been a bit...awed by the engineering of an airplane. The plane has to be able to stay up in the air while weighing a great amount." He shook his head and smiled. "It's quite neat."

John smiled and ruffled Sherlock's hair.

"I guess that it is pretty neat."

They are cut off by the intercom. The stewardess plunged into her speech, informing everyone on what they would need to do in case something went wrong with the flight. Sherlock, of course, didn't listen. Instead, he traced patterns onto John's arm. John tried to ignore the shivers that ran up his arms as he listened to the stewardess.

"Why are you listening to her?" Sherlock muttered, glancing down at John.

"Because we might need to know these instructions if something bad happened."

"Nothing bad is going to happen, John. These planes are incredibly safe."

"Still, I want to be informed."

John listened to the rest of the stewardess' speech without any interruptions from Sherlock. Right after her speech was over, Sherlock pouted. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm bored."

"I know that you are."

"Can we do something?"

John raised an eyebrow and shifted so he could see Sherlock better.

"Like what?"

"Like..." Sherlock trailed off and gently swiped his hand across John's groin. John's eyes widened.

"Sherlock!" He whispered. "You can't do that!"

"Why not?" He touched the same area again. "It seems like you liked it."

John pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly.

"Because we're on a plane and I don't think that the people around us would appreciate us...fooling around."

"People kiss on planes all the time."

"But you weren't suggesting _kissing, _Sherlock," he said in a low voice. "You were suggesting something much more...intimate than that."

"Come on. Don't be a stick in the mud." It was the first time Sherlock had ever used that expression. He cringed at the sound of it. "Or, rather, do not be a downer."

"I'm not being a downer. It's just...close quarters."

Sherlock lifted the armrest so he can lean against John. John's stiff at first but his arms quickly went around Sherlock's waist.

"Fine...we don't have to."

A small smile tugged at the corners of John's lips.

"We will though when we go to Spain, correct?" Sherlock asked, glancing up at John.

"Of course." He kissed Sherlock's cheek. "That's generally what honeymoons are for."

"Good." Sherlock mumbled, kissing John's chin before the pilot came over the intercom and told them that they no longer needed their seat belts.

Sherlock grinned and took off his seatbelt. He moved closer to John— not stopping until he was almost on top of his lap.

"Sherlock?" John whispered about a half an hour into the flight. Sherlock, much to his surprise, was sleeping. He smiled softly to himself and took out a book that he had been meaning to read for weeks now, but never had the chance to read because they always seemed to be on a case.

A little later, when John was just getting to the good part of the book, Sherlock woke up. He placed the book down on the table in front of him and smiled at Sherlock.

"Did you sleep well?"

Sherlock blinked a few times, trying to remember where they were. Sleep tended to disorient him- he hated that.

"Yes, I did. Did you sleep at all?" He turned so he was facing John.

John shook his head.

"No, but I did start to read that book I was telling you about the other day."

"Oh. Is it any good?"

"It is, actually."

"That's good to hear." Sherlock backed away a bit before he wrapped his arms around his army doctor and pulled him down. John rested his head against Sherlock's chest.

"Planes are very boring." Sherlock said quietly, kissing John's neck.

John shivered.

"I know. I did bring you stuff to do though...remember?"

"I know. But I don't want to do those things," Sherlock said, pouting.

He nipped at John's neck, barely brushing his teeth against the skin. John lets out a small, barely audible, groan.

"Sher...we can't do that here." He said softly.

"I know." Sherlock sighed and rested his head against the back of his chair. His arms wrapped slightly tighter around John.

"Do you want a drink?" John asked, glancing up at the detective.

"You know that I don't like to drink that much, John." He said.

"Come on. We're on our honeymoon...we're not going to have any cases...you should have a drink."

Normally Sherlock would have said no to a drink again, but John's reasons did make sense.

"Sure. Can you get me a gin and tonic?"

"Okay." He kissed Sherlock's jaw as he pressed the button for the stewardess.

The stewardess came over a few minutes later. Sherlock scanned her, hoping to get a read on her. John glanced up and nudged Sherlock's stomach with his elbow. He shook his head, hoping that Sherlock would understand what he was trying to tell him. Sherlock let out an annoyed sigh and closed his eyes.

"May I help you?" The stewardess asked.

"Yes, may we have two gin and tonics?"

The stewardess nodded and headed to the back of the plane. Sherlock opened his eyes and glanced at John.

"Why didn't you let me finish deducing her?" He asked in a whisper.

"Because...we're going to be on this flight for a while. I didn't want you to upset her."

His jaw clenched for a second before he relaxed into the chair; John did have a point. They were going to be on this flight for a while, and he didn't want to upset anyone- especially John. He knew that John liked his deductions, but he usually told Sherlock that "his deductions had a time and place". Meaning, only deduce on a case, or when the "victim" of his deductions aren't in hearing range.

"Okay, John...I understand." He said, shifting so he was more comfortable.

John smiled and kissed Sherlock's chin.

"Thank you, Sher."

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**So! Sherlock and John's journey (or honeymoon, rather) begins. What will the future hold? Well, you will have to keep reading to find out!**

**Again, I would like to thank you for reading this chapter, and I hope that you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a comment before you leave. I read through every comment, so it would not go unnoticed.**

**Thank you again for reading this chapter! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Here is the next installment of the story! I hope that you enjoy it, and thank you for the continued support. It means a lot.  
**

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A few minutes later the stewardess came back with their drinks. John put them on the tray in front of them and thanked her. She left them then, much to Sherlock's delight. He took a large sip of the drink; he sighed happily.

"This is actually quite good," he murmured, taking another sip.

"I'm glad that you like it."

John picked up his own glass and took a small sip. He hummed softly in appreciation. Yes, that was surprisingly very good. He gulped more of it down and placed it back on the tray.

"Like it?" Sherlock asked as he put his glass back down.

"Yes, I do. It's surprisingly good."

The next half an hour was filled with Sherlock and John sipping their drinks, making small talk. Sherlock wanted to discuss some of their cases, but he decided not to bring them up. He didn't want anyone to come up to him and start talking to him about them; this was his honeymoon, after all. He was supposed to be away from work.

John tried to stay awake for the whole plane ride, but he ended up falling asleep halfway through. Sherlock smiled and tossed a blanket over him. He entertained himself by glancing around the plane, silently deducing things about others while John slept.

John woke up just as the plane was beginning its descent into Madrid. Sherlock smiled and kissed his cheek.

"We're here." he said quietly.

"We are?" He blinked and looked out the window. He smiled when he saw Madrid below them. He glanced back at Sherlock. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?"

"Because you stayed up late last night...I thought that you should sleep."

John grinned; sometimes, like a time like this, Sherlock could be very, very, sweet. Some people believed that he was incapable of being sweet, but he knew that he _could _be sweet. Sherlock was just very...selective, for a lack of a better word, of who he was kind to. He had to know that he could trust the person before he openly displayed any type of vulnerability.

"Thanks. I appreciate it." He smiled and placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek.

They held hands as the plane continued to descend into the city below them. John looked out of the window and grinned when he could see more details of the city.

"Look, Sherlock," he said, nudging Sherlock with his elbow. Sherlock glanced over John's shoulder so he could see outside. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"It looks beautiful." His gaze flicked to John. "I can't wait to explore it with you."

"And I can't wait to explore it with you."

He squeezed Sherlock's hand as the plane continued to fly lower and lower. Finally, after several minutes, the plane landed. Sherlock and John got up and grabbed their bags as soon as they were able to. Luckily, other people seemed to be in as much of a rush as they were, so they exited the plane faster than they had expected.

Soon they were hurrying over to the baggage claim, fingers intertwined with the other's. Sherlock smiled, happy that they had landed in Spain without any problems. John went up to the carousel and sighed- nothing had come out yet. Sherlock wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him closer to him. John giggled when he felt Sherlock's breath tickle his ear.

"It may take a few minutes, you know, for the luggage to actually get here." Sherlock said, kissing his ear.

"I know, but I wanted to get to the hotel."

"We'll get there soon. Why are you such in a rush, anyways?" His eyebrows furrowed.

"Because...I'm in a new city with my husband. I want to go site seeing with him."

Sherlock kissed his ear, blushing at John's words. Despite them being together for a while now, he still couldn't get used to John's sweetness. Of course, John wasn't sweet _all _the time, but he was sweet for most of it. He led John closer to the carousel so he could see if their luggage had come out yet.

"I want to see the city with you too, John," he said, smiling softly.

The carousel started to move. Suitcase after suitcase spilled onto the carousel. Sherlock let go of John and maneuvered around people to see it better. A grin spread across his lips when he saw a familiar large grey suitcase. He grabbed it, pulling it off of the carousel. Once it was off, he rolled it over to John, who was waiting in the same spot as before.

"Well, that was quick." John said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"This is our only suitcase, right?" Sherlock asked, glancing back at the carousel.

"Yes, yes, we're fine." John took Sherlock's hand and led him towards the exit of the airport.

When they were outside, Sherlock ran up to the curb and hailed a cab. A cab pulled over almost right away. Sherlock took the suitcase from John before he told him that he could put it in the trunk. He mumbled a thanks to Sherlock as Sherlock opened the cab door. John got into the cab, Sherlock soon following him. He told the cab driver where to go and pulled John close to him. Smiling softly, John moved so his back is against Sherlock's side. Sherlock cradled him in his arms, wanting to be closer to him. John chuckled and kissed the arm that was draped over his stomach.

"I'm not going anywhere," John murmured.

Sometimes John still thought that Sherlock believed that he would just get up and leave. He understood why he would think that, but John spent every day trying to prove to Sherlock that he wasn't like other people. He wouldn't just walk away from him and never talk to him again. He wouldn't suddenly turn his back on him. John was with Sherlock for life. Sherlock curled his fingertips into the shirt.

"I can't wait until this is off of you, John," he whispered into John's ear.

John shivered.

"You...you want it off?"

"Obviously. But not right now. I don't want the cab driver to get upset and throw us out. That wouldn't be a good way to start off our honeymoon."

"Good point," John said, smiling softly.

"Plus...I'll be able to make you take that off in a little bit. Once we're at the hotel."

The cab driver glanced back at them, but didn't say anything. Sherlock gave him a very rude look, one that would make the cab driver not look back at them again. John shook his head and nudged Sherlock's side.

"You didn't have to give him a face," he said quietly, gesturing to the cab driver.

"I know, but I cannot do anything about that now."

Sherlock turned back to the window and waited for them to arrive at their hotel, a small smile playing at his lips.

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**So there you have it! That concludes chapter 5. Tune in next week to see the next installment. However, I wonder...did you like this chapter? Did you not? Feel free to leave a comment below telling me what you thought!**

**Also, thank you so much for reading this story. It means a lot. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Here's the next chapter! I hope that you enjoy it. As always, thank you for your continued support.  
**

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They pulled up to their hotel, which was a larger building that was made out of yellow clay. Well, Sherlock thought that it was made out of clay. He and John climbed out of the cab right away, excited to see their room. And to finally start their vacation. John pulled their suitcase out of the trunk and gave it to Sherlock while he picked up their messenger bag and swung it over his shoulder. Sherlock paid the driver and followed John into the hotel. The hotel was beautiful. The foyer had high ceilings, and the marble floor sparkled under the light that entered from the windows that adorned the front of the hotel.

John went to the check-in desk while Sherlock examined the luggage carts. John wasn't sure what was quite so interesting about the carts, but he decided to just let Sherlock be. He figured that Sherlock would be fine since they had established some "good behavior" rules. Not wandering off was one of those, so as long as Sherlock was close to him, he was happy. The receptionist typed their last name in and nodded.

"Okay, your room is all set, Mr. Holmes," she said, handing John their room key. John took it from her, grinning.

"Thank you."

Before John could call Sherlock over, Sherlock took John's hand and led him to the lift. The lift's doors opened soon after he pressed the button. John hurried into the elevator with Sherlock's arms trying to wrap around his waist. The army doctor shook his head but smiled.

John hit the button for their floor. Sherlock moved over to him and kissed down his neck, wanting to be closer to him. John hummed softly, a small smile on his face. The lift rose to their floor, but Sherlock didn't pay any attention to it. He was too busy with planting kisses over John's slightly tanned cheeks. John pressed his cheek into Sherlock's lips.

"Good?" Sherlock murmured right before the doors opened. He sighed and got out, a little disappointed that their lift journey had come to an end. He wanted to continue to flower John with kisses, but he was unable to. Groaning softly, he pulled their suitcase out of the lift and towards their room. John led the way, stopping when he reached their room. He unlocked the door and went in.

"Is it nice?" Sherlock asked as he closed the door. He grinned when he saw the room.

There was a large bed in the center of the room, framed by two nightstands. Opposite to the bed, there was a flat-screen tv that was most definitely larger than than the one that John and Sherlock had at home. On the farthest wall, there were two bay windows that looked out onto the street below.

"Yes, it is nice," John said, sitting on the bed. "The bed is very comfortable too."

Sherlock padded over to John, sitting next to him when he arrived at the bed. He bounced a few times before he nodded.

"You are right. The bed is _very _comfortable." He said, bouncing on it again.

John chuckled softly and ran his hand through Sherlock's curls.

"I know."

After a few more bounces, Sherlock laid down and rubbed his head against the mattress. Smiling, John crawled up to his side and brushed his lips gently across his. Sherlock brushed his lips against John's, humming softly. He wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him down so he could kiss him more firmly. John tangled his hand into the detective's curls, tugging his hair lightly. Sherlock let out a small squeak- or what sounded like a squeak- and kissed John harder, desperate for more friction. The slightly smaller man happily responded and opened his lips a bit so he could capture Sherlock's bottom lip in between them. Sherlock let out a small moan and tried to do the same thing. John let out a low groan, a bit overwhelmed by the passion behind the kiss. He pressed his lips against Sherlock's with the same force as his hands unbuttoned his shirt. He slid the shirt off, revealing the taller man's toned torso. John ran his hands down it and smiled softly.

"You're beautiful," he said. He knew that he probably sounded like a broken record since he kept telling Sherlock that he was beautiful, but he couldn't stop. The words seemed to slip out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"You are too, John." Sherlock said, slipping his finger tips under the waistband of John's trousers. John groaned.

"You are more pretty," he said, not thinking about his words.

"No," Sherlock said more firmly as his fingers slid over to the button on John's trousers.

Sherlock tilted his head, silently asking John a question.

"Yes, please, do." John said quietly against Sherlock's ear. Sherlock shivered and undid the button on John's trousers.

The army doctor moved his hips back and forth while Sherlock pushed his trousers down. John smiled softly and kissed the detective's lips hard, wanting him to pay attention only to him- he wanted to quiet his mind. Sherlock hummed when he felt John's lips on his. He kissed him hard and finished pushing off the other man's trousers. Humming, the detective ran his hands under John's shirt, wanting to- needing to - feel his skin. He had touched it many times before, but he got excited every time he was able to touch him.

One of John's hands tangled in Sherlock's curls. He lightly tugged at the curl, causing the taller man to gasp softly. John chuckled and glanced at the man below him.

"Okay?" he asked softly, not wanting to overwhelm him.

"Okay." Sherlock said, agreeing to the touch. John tugged at his hair again, enjoying that soft sound Sherlock made when he did.

The other hand ran up and down Sherlock's chest as he kissed him hard on the mouth. Sherlock pressed his lips hard against John's. When John thought that he kissed Sherlock enough to lower his walls a bit, his fingertips slipped under the waistband of Sherlock's trousers. Sherlock naturally lifted himself from the bed as _his _John pushed the trousers off of him. Soon, they were pressed again each other, only separated by a few pieces of clothing. John rubbed his lower body against Sherlock's hard, eager to keep going.

Sherlock moaned loudly, louder than John had expected him to. He knew that Sherlock was a vocal being, but he didn't realize how _vocal _he could really be. Smiling, he rubbed himself against Sherlock again, savoring the way the other man felt against him. Sherlock pressed his hips harder against John's, desperate for more friction. John chuckled and moved his mouth to Sherlock's ear.

"Would you like me to take off your pants for you?" he whispered, his fingers barely grazing the fabric of them.

"Y-yes, please." Sherlock said, pressing his hips up.

John chuckled but did as Sherlock wanted. He pulled down his pants and tossed them to the side. Sherlock skimmed his fingers down John's back, towards his pants. John nodded, telling him that he was allowed to take them off. Sherlock pulled them off quickly, and tossed them next to his own pants. He focused on his lips again, and kissed John more roughly. Everything else melted away, and all he could focus on was John and how he felt against him.

* * *

**So, that's the chapter! I hope that you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave any comments you have about the story or chapter in a comment below! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for your continued support! Also, thank you to those who left comments. They were a nice little surprise. Anyways, here's the next chapter; I hope that you enjoy it!  
**

* * *

Sherlock woke up the next morning in John's arms. He glanced over and smiled at the smaller man who was curled around him. John's arms were draped across Sherlock's torso, pulling him close to him. The sun's rays streamed through the windows, lighting the relatively small room. Sherlock wanted to get up, but he didn't want to get up before John was up. This was their first day of their honeymoon - something that was important to most people- so he didn't want to mess it up. He wanted to show John that things like this were important to him, too, even if he rarely said so. Well. Maybe things like this weren't important to _him, _but they were important to John, so he wanted to make it special.

John's eyes fluttered open a few minutes later. He blinked a few times before he realized that Sherlock was in front of him. The corner of his lips curled upwards as he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's neck.

"How did you sleep, love?" he asked.

John didn't normally like to use nicknames or "pet" names for the people that he was close to, but the word slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it. However, it didn't feel wrong to use it. Sherlock _was _his love, after all. He hadn't met anyone who made him feel so…at peace. When he was with Sherlock, he knew that he was the "person" that he was supposed to be. He didn't need to put up any facades for the other man. He could simply be himself.

"Very well, thank you." He ran his hand through John's short, blond, hair. "How did you sleep?"

"Quite well. I don't think that I have ever slept that well."

Sherlock rolled over so he was facing John. He chuckled when a thought popped into his mind.

"What are you laughing at?" John asked, his eyes sparkling.

"Just...last night. It was quite fun."

John blushed very faintly at the thought of the night before. He had imagined that moment for a very long time, but he was wrong: the real thing was definitely much, much, better. Sherlock had a surprisingly fantastic skill set when it came to being intimate. The smaller man wasn't quite sure how Sherlock had learned some of those moves, but he figured that he wouldn't ask. Well, he wouldn't ask _yet, _anyways. Sherlock watched John carefully, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Do you not agree?" Sherlock asked.

John's blush became even more pronounced.

"No...I think that it was fun."

Sherlock kissed him on the lips, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pulled away and grinned.

"You're very skilled at being intimate, John." He said, suddenly feeling bashful. He didn't feel like he could use the word "sex". Mycroft had said that sex alarmed Sherlock in some way, but he was wrong. Sex didn't alarm him at all. The _word _"sex" did. Doing something and telling people about it were two very different things, even if the person who you did it with was laying right across from you.

John didn't mind Sherlock's bashfulness, though. If anything, he thought that it was endearing. It was interesting to see what made Sherlock uncomfortable. A bunch of murderers weren't any problem for him, but talking about sex was very much a problem for him. He chuckled softly to himself, amused by the consulting detective.

"Why are you laughing?" Sherlock asked. His eyebrows shot up.

John tried to stop laughing, but it wasn't any use. He chuckled a bit more before finally composing himself.

"I was just laughing at you."

The consulting detective crossed his arms and pouted, clearly not happy with the doctor before him.

"I am _not _funny, John."

"I know...I was just laughing at something about you."

"What about me is funny?"

John waved his hand, trying to dismiss the conversation. Of course, Sherlock wouldn't have any of John's excuses.

"Tell me, John."

He sighed and rubbed his thumb along Sherlock's cheekbone.

"I was just amused by what bothered you, Sher. You don't have any problems going against a murderer, or a villain of some sort, but you don't like saying the word sex. I know that you do say it, but you usually don't like to say it. You prefer to say 'intimate' instead."

"I do not do that," Sherlock said, his cheeks going red.

John raised his eyebrows.

"Are you saying that I'm lying to you?" John smiled, hoping to calm Sherlock down again. Sherlock didn't mind being teased occasionally, but he didn't like it when the comments thrown at him seemed like insults. He might put up a "strong" front, but John knew that he was actually much more vulnerable than he let on. He wanted people to think that he couldn't be bothered by anything, really, but John knew that he did.

"Of course not."

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock gently. They kissed for a few moments, lost in the sensation of the other's lips. After a few more moments, John broke away, his breath coming out a bit more ragged than before. Sherlock groaned softly and opened his eyes.

"Why did you pull away?" he asked, pouting.

"Because...I'm hungry."

It was true. John hadn't eaten much on the plane last night. He had wanted to, but he had never actually gotten around to it. He supposed he was too distracted by Sherlock to actually eat anything. He wasn't complaining, though. Plane food was never that appealing.

"Oh, right...you've barely eaten." Sherlock blinked and backed away more. "Would you like to go downstairs and get something to eat? I remember there being a sign about breakfast or something like that."

"Oh, yes, that sounds very good."

With that, he got out of bed, trying to ignore the fact that Sherlock was staring at his bare body.

"I can feel you staring at me, you know," he said lightly as he took their suitcase and opened it. He rifled through their clothes until he found something that he wanted to wear.

"Don't act like you don't like it. We both know that you do." He said lightly, teasing his husband.

John blushed softly and stood back up with the outfit that he had decided to wear.

"You know that I like it."

His blush deepened as he slid on a pair of red pants, realizing that this pair of pants were one of Sherlock's favorites. Sherlock hummed loudly once they were completely on.

"Those do look _fantastic _on you, John. Did you know that?"

John wiggled his butt in affirmation. Sherlock crawled to the edge of the bed while John was still facing away from him. He reached out for his butt and gave it a light pinch. John jumped a bit, completely taken off guard.

"You have the most beautiful arse, John."

"So you've said." Despite John's words, he smiled and pulled on a pair of black shorts. Sherlock sighed and shook his head.

"There should be one of those law things about your red pants- you should not be allowed to cover them."

John turned around so he could see Sherlock. The detective was laying on his stomach, arms crossed in front of him, his chin resting on the top of one of his arms. His face was lightly flushed.

"I don't know if you would want everyone to see my pants, though, Sher. I think you might not want people to look at me in _that _way."

John took a few steps towards Sherlock and ran his hand through the detective's hair. Sherlock leaned into the touch, comforted by it. He never knew how much he liked his hair being touched until John Watson came along. John made Sherlock want to be touched all the time, which was odd for him. He never knew how much he craved attention - physical attention that was - until this army doctor came along.

"That is true. I don't want anyone touching you," Sherlock admitted.

"I know," he smiled softly. 

* * *

**I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Feel free to leave a comment telling me what you thought! As always, thanks for your continued support. It truly means a lot to me. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Here is the next chapter! I hope that you enjoy it. As always, thanks for reading this story and feel free to leave a comment after you have read this chapter!  
**

* * *

He ran a hand through Sherlock's hair one more time before backing away. He bent over the suitcase and took out their toothbrushes and toothpaste. Sherlock groaned behind him, knowing that this meant that he actually had to get up, too.

"Can't we just order room service, John?" He asked, watching his lover pass him to go to the bathroom.

"Would you like to?"

He nodded.

"You know that we will have to leave the room at some point though, correct? We _did _travel all the way over here for a reason, after all."

Sherlock sighed. Why did John act like he was a child sometimes? He concentrated on that question for a second before realizing that he did act like a kid sometimes. Not that he would ever admit that to John, though. No. If he did, John would be much too happy about that admission.

"I know, John. I just don't feel like going downstairs. Could we _please _order room service?"

"Fine, we can order room service. But you have to eat something."

"Of course. I remember our agreement."

John smiled and headed into the bathroom, still determined to brush his teeth. It felt like he hadn't brushed them in ages. Sherlock, on the other hand, bounced on the bed, waiting for his partner to return so they could order food.

About a half an hour later, John and Sherlock were curled up on the bed, watching a movie. Sherlock was sitting slightly behind John, allowing the smaller man to lean against him. Sherlock's arm was wrapped around John's waist, pulling him closer to him. John could _definitely _get used to this. He wasn't a big "cuddler" but for some reason, he enjoyed cuddling with Sherlock. Maybe it was because they were constantly running around London, never really taking a break to enjoy each other's company. Lately, they had a ton of time off, but that was only because of the wedding. John knew that once they got back, after their honeymoon, the cases would resume, and he and Sherlock would be running around London like crazy people.

Sherlock kissed John's hair. John smiled and leaned back against the detective. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but he was cut off when someone knocked on their door. _Room service. _He groaned when John got off of the bed and headed towards the door.

"I could've gotten that," Sherlock said.

John shook his head as he opened the door. He paid the food runner, and pulled the cart into the room. He wheeled it towards Sherlock until it was right next to the detective. He got to his knees and crawled over towards cart. John grinned and got back onto the bed, eager to dig into the food. Each of them had gotten crepes for breakfast. Some fruit came on the side, but Sherlock didn't want to touch it. He didn't like eating fruit.

"Come on, just try the strawberries." John said, glancing from the fruit to Sherlock's face.

"But why? You know that I am not a big fan of fruit, John."

"Because it is good for you. Please, Sherlock?"

Sherlock sighed.

"Fine."

John speared a strawberry with his fork and held it in front of Sherlock's mouth. Smiling, Sherlock leaned forward and took the piece off of the force. He ate it and sighed.

"Better?"

John smiled as he leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you for eating that for me, Sherlock. That really means a lot to me."

Over the last few months, John had been trying to make Sherlock eat better. And by "better", John meant making him eat healthier. While Sherlock was in shape, he wasn't exactly the most healthy individual that John had ever come across. When he ate, he ate whatever he wanted, which was good, but he didn't always pick the most healthy option. Most of the time John had to remind him to eat some vegetables or fruit.

"You're welcome, John." Sherlock said, spearing another piece of fruit with his fork. He shoved it into his mouth, his gaze on John. John smiled and nodded.

"See? Is that so difficult?" John asked, taking a bite of his crepe. He grinned; the crepe seemed to literally melt in his mouth.

"No, John, it was not that difficult." Sherlock said, pouting slightly. He shifted so his stomach was against the bed.

Sherlock cut his crepe and ate it; he hummed happily and took several more bites. He hadn't tasted a crepe like this one before. It seemed like the chefs had gone to culinary school that just focused on this particular food.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Here is the next chapter of the story! Once again, thank you so much for your support and I hope that you enjoy this chapter!  
**

* * *

Before Sherlock knew it, they were finished their breakfast, and getting ready to explore the city. John brushed his teeth while Sherlock was got their map of the city that John had forgotten to take out of the suitcase. He had meant to memorize the layout of Madrid before he arrived, but he never got around to it; he had been too busy freaking out about the wedding and helping John _plan _the wedding. Sighing, he tucked the map into his back pocket.

"Ready, John?" Sherlock called, slipping his feet into his shoes.

"Give me one more second, Sherlock," John said. Sherlock huffed and tied his shoes.

John exited the bathroom and sat down on the bed next to his partner. He slid on his dark blue shoes and tied them quickly, anxious to get out and explore.

"Ready now?" Sherlock asked, glancing from John's shoes to his face.

"Yes, Sher." John said. He chuckled and stood. "Do you have the camera?" He glanced down at Sherlock.

"Of course. I wouldn't forget it."

He stood and grabbed John's hand. He led them out of their room, to the floor lobby. John pressed the button for the lift then turned to Sherlock, grinning.

"What are you smiling about?" Sherlock asked, glancing at his partner.

"About our holiday...we're actually going to start our honeymoon, Sherlock."

Even though their honeymoon had technically started the night before, John considered this the first real "day" since yesterday was filled with traveling and settling in at the hotel. The lift doors opened and they walked into it. Once the doors were closed, John wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close to him. Sherlock was caught slightly off guard, but he quickly realized what John was doing. He pushed against him, wanting to feel his body against his. John smiled and planted a kiss on Sherlock's lips.

"I love you, Sher." He said softly.

herlock smiled. Yes, he smiled, even after being with John for ages. He was still not used to the smaller man telling him that he loved him. It didn't make him "freak out", though. It merely made Sherlock smile; he was happy that he found someone that actually loved him. Someone who actually believed that he wasn't a "freak". Someone who actually wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. John rubbed his thumb against Sherlock's cheekbone, sending him back to earth.

"What are you thinking about?" John asked.

Sherlock shook his head.

"It's not important," he said, waving his hand.

John wanted to ask his lover _what _exactly he was thinking about, but the doors opened before he could. He dropped his arms from Sherlock's waist and hurried out of the lift. Sherlock followed him and held his hand when he caught up to him. John smiled and led him out of the hotel, out into the city of Madrid. The two men were met with surprisingly warm air when they exited the hotel. Sherlock smiled and glanced over at John.

"Where to first?"

By early afternoon, John and Sherlock had walked around most of Madrid. They had decided to explore the city first, and then pick where they wanted to go after they explored the city in general. Sherlock had to admit that he had much more fun exploring the city than he had thought he would. He loved exploring, but he didn't think that exploring a city would be as much fun. After all, cities were always packed with people, and Sherlock hated having to deal with people. However, he had to say that he had a nice time.

Right now, he and John were at a small restaurant enjoying some wine and some rice dish. Sherlock didn't actually want to stop and eat, but John insisted that they should. So, they stopped. John shifted so he was leaning against his chair. He brought his wine to his lips and took a relatively large sip. Sherlock smiled and mirrored him.

"See? This isn't too bad," John said, gesturing to the wine and rice.

"I suppose."

It actually wasn't bad at all. Plus, Sherlock only cared about being with John. If John wanted to go somewhere, Sherlock didn't mind going because he would be with his John. John smiled and poked the air with his fork.

"Oh, don't act like you don't like it, Sherlock, I know that you do."

Sherlock smiled softly.

"You know me quite well, John."

He took a large sip of his wine. John stretched out his legs and placed his feet on either side of Sherlock's legs. Sherlock reached down so he could wrap his hand around one of John's shins. He massaged it gently. John's shin jerked back a little, but he moved it back when he was used to the sensation. His shoulders relaxed slightly even though Sherlock wasn't touching them.

"Good?" Sherlock asked softly, still massaging John's shin.

"Very."

Sherlock smiled and continued to massage his shin until he was finished with his wine. Once he was finished, he switched to the other shin and massaged that one instead. John grinned and let out a small groan.

Yes, right there," John said.

Sherlock nodded and continued to work at the spot. John nodded and sipped at his wine.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: Here's the next chapter of the story! Hope you like it!**

**Also, thank you for the continued support!  
**

* * *

A little later, John was doing the same thing to Sherlock. Sherlock hadn't expected John to massage his shins, but John always surprised him. Him surprising him actually should _not _surprise him anymore. If anything, Sherlock should be used to John doing something that he hadn't expected him to do. Sherlock poured more wine into his glass. He wanted to give some to John, but John didn't want any since he was "working". He didn't know how giving someone a massage was "working", but he didn't comment.

John kneaded at a particular spot that had seemed to be very sensitive and knotted. He pressed his thumb onto the area; small groans escaped the detective. John chuckled.

"Shhh, Sher," he said softly, not wanting to interrupt others.

Sherlock glared at John; why couldn't he be as loud as he wanted to be? John eyed Sherlock and shook his head, understanding Sherlock's thoughts.

"Because people won't appreciate that noise, and they will think that we're getting off."

Sighing, Sherlock nodded and relaxed into the booth. He took a sip of his wine, hoping that it would muffle the very faint sounds that were escaping his lips. John grinned when he saw Sherlock's cheeks become a bit redder.

"Enjoying this?" He asked, slapping the detective's shin gently.

"Oh, yes, John," He said lowly.

He moved over until he was right next to John. John raised his eyebrows.

"What is it?"

"I wish..." Sherlock said, sliding his hand over so it rested on John's groin. John sucked in a breath. "...I could..do this," He gently slid his hand over the bulge forming in John's trousers, "..right now." Sherlock chuckled as John shook gently under his hand. "But," He drew his hand back. "that would be very, very, inappropriate."

John groaned.

"You are a tease." He said, trying to calm himself down. He didn't understand how a little bit of dirty talk could make him act like _this. _

Sherlock nodded and went back to his side again. He took a large sip of his wine, his gaze on the middle of the table. John bit his lip; Sherlock's gaze flicked to his.

"Yes, I know, John. You've told me that many times before."

He put his wine down.

"Fine, fine. We're going back to the hotel room, now."

\  
"What?" The detective raised one of his eyebrows. "I thought that you wanted to finish our wine and go see the rest of Madrid."

John ran a hand down his face and groaned.

"I _do, _but right now, I have something else on my mind."

A small smirk spread across Sherlock's face.

"Is that so, John?" He asked, his eyebrows raised.

"Yes...so...can we _please _get the bill, grab the wine, and head out of here?"

Sherlock's smirk spread into a grin. He actually wanted to see some more of the city, but the activity John was "secretly" proposing sounded much better at the moment. He nodded enthusiastically and waved the waitress over so they could go back to the hotel.

About twenty-five minutes later, Sherlock and John were barging into their hotel room, their bodies against each other. John's hands were tangled in Sherlock's hair while Sherlock's hands were firmly grasping John's arse. John moaned and pushed Sherlock down on the bed, his mouth never leaving his. He quickly tossed Sherlock's shirt off, refusing to waste _any _time. Right now, all he cared about was having Sherlock's skin pressed against his.

Sherlock slid his hands under the waistband of John's pants and slid them off. Normally he would take off his trousers and then pants, but he didn't care about "taking things slowly" at this very moment. He was much too busy processing how John's hands felt against his bare chest. John pressed his pelvis down against Sherlock's, causing the taller man to moan loudly. The ex-army doctor chuckled and pulled away.

"Would you like me to take off your clothes, Sherlock?" He said, his eyes gleaming under the lights.

"Please, John," Sherlock moaned, pushing his hips towards John. "Please, please, please, take them off."

John giggled.

"Since you asked so nicely."

His hands found the clothing that hugged Sherlock's hips. He quickly pulled it off of Sherlock, grinning when the detective was completely naked below him. Sherlock blushed slightly as he looked up at John. John leaned down and kissed Sherlock passionately. Their bodies met again, and this time, they did not stop. They continued to move, moving to and fro from each other. By one point, Sherlock honestly didn't know where his body began. He knew that he was _underneath _John, but he couldn't exactly point to _his _body. It seemed like his and John's body somehow fused together. They continued until both of them released. Once John finished, he relaxed against Sherlock and ran his hand across his chest.

"That, was amazing, Sher," he said softly, panting.

Sherlock chuckled and carded his hand through the smaller man's hair.

"Was it?'

"Definitely. Probably one of our best times, to be honest."

Sherlock beamed; he had been hoping for that; he wanted this time to be special for them, even if it wasn't exactly a special day. Yawning, John closed his eyes and wrapped his arm around Sherlock's side. Sherlock yawned as well and soon slipped off into sleep, comforted by the man that was laying on top of him.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: Sorry for the small delay! Here's the next chapter; I hope that you enjoy it!**

**Also, thank you for your continued support!  
**

* * *

Later that day, Sherlock and John found themselves walking around Madrid. The day had long since past, and the moon shined high above them, casting a faint glow onto the earth below. Sherlock smiled and held John's hand as they walked around a part of the city that they had not managed to visit earlier, due to their... _little activity. __  
_

The activity had been very fun, but it had made both of them very tired. So tired that they slept for several hours. John had woken up first, and had woken Sherlock up a bit later. Sherlock had groaned about being woken up, but when John told him the time, he jumped out of bed and quickly got dressed. Soon after he got dressed, they were out the door.

They had decided to get dinner at a quaint tapas restaurant not too far away from their hotel. John had wanted to go to dinner a little bit farther away from their hotel, but neither of them were up to traveling very far to eat. Each of them were starving by the time they set foot in the restaurant. The tapas had been fantastic. So fantastic that even _Sherlock _ate two helpings of everything that they ordered. Right after they left, Sherlock had told John that they had to find one back in London so they could go to it and compare the food to tapas they had in Spain.

John eagerly agreed; he was always looking forward to finding more ethnic places back home.

They wandered about Madrid for a little, each enjoying the other's company. They had obviously been with each other for a while now, but being together in a foreign city- on their honeymoon, nevertheless - was different and made exploring much more exciting. Sherlock pointed at the architecture when they passed a building that caught his interest. He pointed at a building eagerly and told John all about it. Apparently a renown family of the past had lived in it. Eventually, John and Sherlock ended up in a small park that was only a few minutes away from their hotel. They had wanted to walk around it earlier, but they never got the opportunity. The park was beautiful; the path was lined with large trees, and birds chirped happily from the branches. Sherlock glanced up in the direction of the birds and smiled. John raised his eyebrows when he saw the sudden expression change.

"What is it, Sher?"

"The birds." He gestured towards a tree.

"What about the birds?"

He shrugged.

"I like birds. A lot."

"I didn't know that you were a fan of birds, Sher."

Sherlock nodded.

"I am. I wanted one when I was younger but my parents wouldn't let me have one."

"Oh, I'm sorry," John said, gently squeezing Sherlock's hand.

"It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyways."

With that, he resumed walking, his eyes darting this way and that. Sherlock took in everything, cataloguing every type of bird or tree that he saw. John watched the detective carefully, smiling softly when he saw Sherlock's expression change. Most people wouldn't have been able to detect the small changes in his facial expression, but John could. He had learned to observe Sherlock's mannerisms over the years which allowed him to peek inside the detective's mind more easily. John squeezed his hand, just wanting to remind him that he was still with him. Sometimes Sherlock tended to get lost in his own little world, so he liked to remind him that he was still with him. Sherlock smiled and glanced over at John.

"Yes, John?" He asked, his gaze sweeping down his face.

"Nothing. Just wanted to remind you that I was still with you."

Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's waist and pulled him towards him.

"Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment."

And truly, he did.

They continued to walk around the park for a little longer, until Sherlock got tired of walking. He led John back to their hotel, which was still bustling with activity. Sherlock rolled his eyes, not understanding why people were so busy at an hour like this. Surely, they didn't have to run around like a crazy gang of apes. He pressed the button that called the lift. He turned towards John and rested his chin on top of his head. John chuckled but didn't move, letting Sherlock use his head as a head rest.

"Comfortable?" He asked.

"Very, thank you." He said just as the lift arrived. The doors opened. Once people left the lift, Sherlock and John stepped into it. They pressed the button for their floor. Sherlock turned towards John again and wrapped his arms around his waist. He yawned.

"We can go to bed when we get back to the room," John said, eyeing his sleepy partner.

"No, no, no, that's not necessary."

"Why not? You look exhausted." Sherlock's eyes drooped closed.

"I'm not...I just need to rest my eyes for a second."

John tilted his head to the side as he analyzed Sherlock. He shook his head when he realized why Sherlock was acting so strangely.

"We don't have to do anything tonight, Sher. We had sex earlier...we don't have to do it again."

Sherlock's eyes sprung open.

"But don't you want to do it again?"

"Not if you're exhausted." He began, placing his hand on Sherlock's cheek. "Besides, we have the rest of our lives to have sex. One night won't kill us."

The detective made a sound that sounded a lot like a protest. John smiled but shook his head.

"Really, we don't have to...I won't be upset if we don't."

The doors opened. John's hand dropped to Sherlock's, and he led him out of the lift. Once they got into their room, Sherlock stripped down to his pants. He yawned and climbed into bed, surprisingly tired. He _wanted _to be with John, but he didn't think that he could stay awake long enough to do anything with him. So, he got under the covers and pat the spot next to him.

"Come here, John," He said, shimmying under the covers.

John stripped down to his pants and got into bed next to Sherlock. Sherlock pulled John towards him. John giggled and placed his head on Sherlock's chest, using it as a pillow. The detective yawned and shut his eyes once John was situated. He fell asleep within minutes. John watched Sherlock sleep for a while until his eyelids started to droop close. Once they felt heavy, he shut them, and drifted off to sleep as well.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has commented on the story. Since the story seemed to be going a bit slow (and I was afraid that it would seem that way), I cut out some of the chapters. So, hopefully, this chapter will seem much more...interesting than the first eleven.**

**Thank you for your continued support, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter!  
**

* * *

The next day or so was uneventful, full of sightseeing and just being with each other. Most of the time they didn't leave the hotel until it was early afternoon. That didn't bother Sherlock, though. He liked spending time in the hotel with John; it meant that they could just lay in bed for most of the day or they could be intimate. It seemed like being together was more important than sightseeing, which made Sherlock happy. He wasn't always in the mood to sightsee.

Right now, they were walking around the city, just enjoying the sights. John squeezed Sherlock's hand gently as he glanced at the sky, which was dotted with stars. Since when had it become night? Had they really been out for that long? He chuckled softy as he glanced at his husband, who was looking this way and that.

"It's nighttime." He said softly, breaking the silence.

Sherlock chuckled and nodded.

"Beautiful deduction, John."

"We haven't eaten dinner yet."

"That is correct."

"Do you think that we should?" As if on cue, John's stomach growled.

"Do you want to?"

"Of course...I'm very hungry." He glanced around them. Naturally, there weren't any restaurants around them. John frowned. "There's nothing around here, Sher."

Sherlock looked around them and nodded.

"Well, we'll just have to look around a bit. There _are _restaurants around here, though. I checked the map earlier." He looked in the other direction, towards an intersection. "Here, this way."

He gestured for John to follow him. He held his hand loosely as they made their way to the uncrowded intersection. He pressed the button that made the walk sign pop up. Right when the light changed, a voice called Sherlock. Sherlock's hand curled up into a fist. _No, it couldn__'__t be. _

"Well, well, well...it's been a long time, Sherlock," the voice said. Sherlock turned around and held onto John's hand with his other. He pushed him behind him.

A man, one that he had tried to forget, stood in front of them. The man was about a few inches taller than Sherlock and he had blonde hair. He was wearing a grey suit that seemed to set off his blue eyes. Sherlock's stomach churned.

"Well…who is this? Do you have a pet now, Sher?" He glanced over Sherlock's shoulder at John. John's eyebrows furrowed; his gaze flicked to Sherlock. _Who was this? _

Sherlock squeezed John's hand.

_It__'__s not important, John. It really isn__'__t. _He seemed to say, trying to calm John down.

The man's eyes gleamed in the dark.

"Wow, you've trained him well, haven't you, Sher? He seems to obey you even when you _don__'__t _talk to him." The man grinned and took a few steps closer to Sherlock, not stopping until he was only a few feet in front of him. Sherlock swallowed and took a step away from the other man. The man clucked his tongue.

"Now, you know how I don't like that." He said, glaring at him. Sherlock nodded and took a step towards him; what can he say? Old habits die hard.

The man nodded. "Much, much, better." He looked around Sherlock at John. John was standing behind Sherlock, dumbfounded. Who was this guy? How could he just...control Sherlock like this? He glanced between the two men, suddenly wishing that he could deduce as well as Sherlock. Obviously he knew that they knew each other, but how? Were they at university together? He glanced at Sherlock, waiting for an explanation, but his husband didn't see him; he was too busy looking at the other man.

"What do you want?" Sherlock snapped, sending John out of his thoughts. The man frowned and tapped Sherlock's chin.

"Now, that's no way to talk to me."

Sherlock stared him down; his mind whirled, thinking of ways to get out of this. Thinking of _why _he still let this man control him. That time had passed. He was no longer that man. He swallowed and took a few steps back, away from him. He gently nudged John's hand, moving in front of his body slightly so the other man couldn't see.

"Vatican cameos," he whispered.

John's thoughts halted completely. _Vatican cameos. Sherlock said vatican cameos. _Before he could think about what he wanted to do, he ran down the sidewalk, pulling Sherlock with him. Sherlock turned and followed him. They sprinted down the sidewalk, not bothering to turn around and look at the guy and his men. Footsteps followed them, making Sherlock and John run faster. Sherlock squeezed John's hand gently, hoping that his husband would squeeze his hand back. John did, as if telling Sherlock that everything was okay, that he wasn't mad at him. A very small breath of relief escaped Sherlock.

That relief was short-lived, though; right when they reached the corner, they heard something go off. John recognized the sound immediately. _No. _He swerved a bit, trying to dodge the bullet. Luckily, he managed to dodge it. He kept running, but Sherlock was no longer running next to him. He looked around frantically.

"Sherlock?" he called loudly. He looked around until he saw a man lying a few feet away from him. S_herlock. _He was staring at the man that he had just married a few weeks ago. The man that he had called his best friend. He ran over to him and crouched next to him. Tears gathered in his eyes. A pool of blood was starting to form around Sherlock, marking the sidewalk. John's heart pounded in his ears. He shook Sherlock gently.

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" he yelled.

His husband doesn't respond. Doesn't seem to hear. A river of tears run down John's face. No. This couldn't be happening. _This. couldn__'__t. be. happening. _


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: Here's the next chapter! Thank you so much for your continued support; it means a lot.**

* * *

Is_ the world now grey?, _was the first thought that Sherlock Holmes had when he woke up. It was a silly question, but that was the question that seemed to appeal to him. _Obviously the world isn__'__t grey, _he answered himself, mentally shaking his head. The world couldn't just become grey. Unless...he was dead? _No, _he couldn't be dead. He was safe. With John. In Madrid.

His thoughts came to a halt just as he registered the pain that was shooting through his body, going this way and that. He wanted to open his eyes, but he believed that even _that _would hurt in some way. All he wanted was to stay still. Maybe, if he stayed still, the pain would go away.

Something warm caused his thoughts to pause. The warmth was coming from his hand. Well, on top of his hand to be more exact. It felt like a hand. No, a thumb. It was a thumb.

"I'm so sorry," the person murmured. He rubbed the back of his hand again. "I'm so sorry that I wasn't able to protect you, Sher." His voice caught on the last word. It cracked. Was he crying? He scrunched his eyelids before opening them.

The world was fuzzy, but after blinking a few times, it seemed to clear up a bit. John was sitting next to him, his hand resting next to Sherlock's. His gaze was on the edge of the bed. His hair was sticking up this way and that. Sherlock frowned; he had never seen John look so disheveled.

Even in times of panic, the army doctor always seemed to be able to keep a level head. He always seemed able to think clearly and help Sherlock out in some way. But...here he was, on the verge of tears. Unable to keep his emotions in check. Sherlock shook his head slightly, just enough for John to register the movement. John shook his own head and moved a bit closer to Sherlock.

"No, it was my fault. I told you that I was going to protect you until the day that I die. And you got into trouble tonight...and I was unable to help you." John sighed. "I am so sorry."

Sherlock turned his head to the side, as if telling John 'no'. How could John possibly blame himself for this? This wasn't his fault. If anything, this was his fault. If he had never suggested Madrid, they would have never run into _that _person. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He swore to himself that he would never come in contact with that person again, but he did. He broke his promise.

"No..." He whispered, his voice hoarse. He wanted to speak more, but a sharp pain shoots down his throat. He winced and pushed himself against the bed more. John frowned.

"Don't...talk. They...had to put a breathing tube in. The guy...well, when he shot you, he hit one of your bones apparently. A piece of one of your ribs chipped off and...well, tore your lung a bit."

Sherlock's eyes widened. So _that__'__s _why his chest hurts. He nodded softly and closed his eyes; a sudden wave of drowsiness rushed over him.

"Sleep...y." He said, sinking down into the bed.

After a few minutes of getting more comfortable, the consulting detective drifted off to sleep. John smiled softly, glad that Sherlock was getting his rest. He needed it if we wanted to recover, after all.

About an hour and a half later, Sherlock woke up again. His finger twitched upwards, notifying John that he was waking. John shifted and leaned forward; he was awake. He didn't die. Did he actually believe that Sherlock was going to die while he slept? No, not really, but he couldn't shake the fear that somehow Sherlock was going to die on that hospital bed. Sherlock groaned slightly before shifting so he could see John properly. The army doctor smiled and kissed Sherlock's hand.

"How are you feeling, Sher?" He asked softly, looking at the detective with wide eyes.

Sherlock would have shrugged, but he was still in too much pain. He rolled onto his side and adjusted his morphine drip. John frowned but didn't comment on the fact that Sherlock had just increased his morphine.

"I'm sorry that you're still in pain," he mumbled.

Sherlock shook his head a bit.

"No...not...your fault...John." He said, his words coming out slowly. He shifted over so slightly so John would have more room on the bed. "Lay with me, John? Please?"

John bit his lip. He really shouldn't lay with him. If he did, he could hurt Sherlock. He could accidentally pull one of the wires that stuck out of the detective's thin form. Sherlock groaned and patted the side of the bed.

"Please?" He asked, his voice hoarse from underuse. His vocal cords were so used to him talking, they were probably in shock from the sudden _lack _of use. John wanted to say no; he wanted to tell Sherlock that he would recover better if he was sitting next to him, but he soon lost that argument when the other man looked at him with big, sad, eyes. John let out a breath and climbed into bed next to him.

He draped one of his hands over his waist and pulled himself closer to him.

"Better?" He asked softly, looking at Sherlock with wide eyes. He wasn't used to seeing Sherlock like this. He knew that he shouldn't be laying next to him, but what could he say? He rarely said no to Sherlock. Especially when he was in so much pain.

Sherlock nodded and shifted himself slightly so his head was resting on John's chest.

"Yes," he whispered.

John smiled softly and kissed the top of the consulting detective's head. His hand slid up Sherlock's back until it met his soft curls that marked the back of his head. He smiled and carded his hand through his hair. Sherlock hummed softly; his body relaxed slowly, comforted by John's presence. John continued to card his hand through the detective's hair, hoping that it would help him fall back asleep. He knew that Sherlock had been sleeping a lot lately, but he needed more sleep if he wanted a quicker recovery. Of course, Sherlock hated to sleep, but he hoped that the repetitive motion of his hand would help lure him to sleep.

Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Sherlock was sound asleep. His head drooped a bit on John's shoulder and his lips parted a little. John watched Sherlock closely, not wanting to miss anything if he suddenly stopped breathing or woke up and needed him. He kissed his hair gently and sighed.

"I'm sorry, Sher," he whispered, frowning.

The door opened, sending John's out of his thoughts. A nurse walked in and blushed softly when he saw the two men laying on the bed.

"I'm sorry...was I interrupting something?" She asked, glancing from John to the door.

John blushed.

"No...you're not." He shifted a bit away from Sherlock. "Do you need me to get off of the bed?"

She nodded. "Could you? I just need to properly examine him."

John nodded and got off of the bed. The nurse came around the side and started to check Sherlock's vitals, making sure that his body wasn't under too much stress. She quickly examined Sherlock's wound and jotted something down on his file.

"Thank you." she began, glancing over at John. "He seems to be making a proper recovery so far. It's still a little too early to tell how long he'll be in here, but I would say that he should be out by tomorrow by the earliest."

John nodded.

"Thank you."

She smiled. "You're welcome. I'll bring some food for him a little while later."

She turned to leave, clearly done with Sherlock. Which made sense- she probably had a lot of patients to check up on. But, John couldn't let her leave just yet. He walked over to her, stopping her in her tracks.

"Is there something that I could do for you?" She asked. Her eyebrows furrowed a bit.

John nodded and glanced over her shoulder at Sherlock. He smiled softly.

"Sherlock doesn't really like to eat much, so I wanted to ask you if you could make him something special, if it's not too much trouble. Could you make him some toast and put some nutella on top of it?"

Her expression softened; a small smile spread across her lips.

"Sure. Is there anything else that he'll want to eat when he wakes?"

"No, but thank you."

She nodded and headed out of the room. John took his seat next to Sherlock and squeezed his hand lightly.

"They're going to make your favorite breakfast, Sher." He whispered, kissing his hand.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delayed posting! Here is the next chapter! Hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

An hour later, Sherlock woke up. And...his body felt like it had been crushed by a very large car. Maybe an anvil. He didn't know which was worse, but he firmly believed that _one _of those objects had been dropped on his body. He groaned but was stopped by a hand on his chest.

"No...don't move, Sher. You need your rest." The voice said firmly but softly. _John. _Sherlock nodded and let out a breath.

"I hurt." He mumbled in a husky voice.

John frowned and ran a hand through Sherlock's somewhat damp hair. He had been sweating in his sleep.

"I'm sorry, love..." He rarely called Sherlock 'love', but the name kind of slipped out of him. He didn't like seeing Sherlock like this, and he thought that he could help him feel a bit better by using cute names. It was a silly thought, but he figured that he would give it a try. It couldn't hurt, after all. "Do you want me to adjust your morphine drip?"

Sherlock nodded and groaned.

"Hurt," he said again. But this time, the word was more slurred. John frowned and adjusted the morphine drip, hoping that it would help numb the pain a bit. Sherlock's eyes closed, and before John knew it, the consulting detective was asleep again.

Part of John wanted to wake Sherlock up. He knew that that was probably considered rude, and he knew that it would be. That's why he wouldn't _actually _wake up his sleeping husband. He knew that Sherlock needed his rest. The army doctor sighed and kissed Sherlock's hand.

"I'm sorry that you're stuck in this bed." He murmured, tucking some of the covers under Sherlock. Sherlock shifted a bit, moving closer to John.

John smiled and kissed Sherlock's forehead.

"That's right, Sher, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He said, acting as if Sherlock was awake. He doubted that he would actually say that if Sherlock was awake, though. If Sherlock was awake, he would tell him that they would be leaving this place in no time. He would tell him that whoever shot him would face the consequences. Would tell him that John Watson was coming after him, and would kill - okay, he wouldn't _kill _him, but he would seriously injure him. He would injure him enough that he walked with a limp - or couldn't walk for the rest of his life.

Yes, Captain John Watson could inflict pain on others without a second thought, if need be. He was a doctor, so he did like to fix people, but he also liked to tear them down, cause them pain, if they went against him in some way. Of course, he didn't like to hurt people often, but when they hurt his close friends or family, well, he didn't mind inflicting some pain. This is not something he would tell Sherlock, though. If he told Sherlock this, he would...well, probably not look at him the same way. Or maybe he would. After all, Sherlock _did _spend his time hunting down criminals throughout London. Maybe when Sherlock got better, he and him could hunt down the jerk that did this to Sherlock.

Sherlock finally woke up about an hour later. He shifted a bit so he was half on top of John. John chuckled and looked down at Sherlock. Sherlock stared up at him with slightly glassy eyes.

"I need more morphine, John." He whispered, pointing to his IV drip.

John nodded and adjusted the drip so more would come out. Sherlock smiled and relaxed against the smaller man.

"Thank you," he murmured quietly, rubbing his head against his.

"You're welcome. How are you feeling, Sher?"

Sherlock gave a small shrug.

"I feel...okay. I've felt better before."

John let out a a small chuckle.

"You think so? You took a bullet to the shoulder, Sher." He frowned. _Why _hadn't he saved him again? Oh. Right. Because he wasn't paying enough attention to the people surrounding them. _"_I don't think that that happens to you very often."

Sherlock sighed and kissed John's chin hesitantly; he didn't want to rip his stitches. Okay, he didn't really _mind _if he ripped his stitches, but he knew that John wouldn't approve, and he didn't want to make him upset. Plus, he didn't want to die. There may have been a time of his life where he didn't really mind it if he died, but...well, that was a long time ago. Before he met John. John had managed to turn his life around. He managed to give his life meaning when he believed that his life was absolutely pointless.

John smiled softly and kissed Sherlock's forehead.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset, Sher. I just am mad at myself."

Sherlock frowned deeply; why was John mad at himself? He didn't do anything wrong. If anything, Sherlock had done something wrong. He had never had bothered to check and see if he had moved. And by he, he means the man who shot him. He knew that he had been planning on moving after they...had their falling out, but he had never bothered to think about _where _he would end up. He should've asked Mycroft to scan the city to make sure that his... _nemesis _wasn't living in the city that he was visiting with his husband. But, then, on the other hand, he shouldn't have to worry about something like that. After all, that ended _years _ago, and he never thought that his nemesis would do something like shoot him in the chest.

"Don't be mad at yourself, John," he said hoarsely. "This," he gestured to the wound in his chest. "wasn't your fault."

"But I should have protected you, Sher." He knew that he was saying Sherlock's name a lot, but he couldn't help it.

"You do protect me. This wasn't your fault. It was mine."

John's eyebrow rose. What was he talking about? How was this his fault? He didn't do anything wrong. He was _shot _for God's sake. He was the victim, not the perpetrator.

"No. This wasn't your fault. That guy was a lunatic."

Sherlock laughed softly. "Yes, he is a lunatic. But...John.." He winced. His laughter died out. "...I know him."

He stared at him for a few moments before something in his mind clicked. Right. Yeah. The man _had _seemed to know Sherlock. He seemed to know him...surprisingly well. Especially since Sherlock was so anti-social. How did a person like that know so much about him?

"How...do you know him, Sherlock?" He asked softly.

"He...was my boyfriend."


	15. Chapter 15

**author's note: Here's the next chapter! I hope that you enjoy it! And as always, thank you for your continued support!**

* * *

"He was your what?" John asked a few minutes after Sherlock had told him that the man who shot him had an intimate relationship with him. How was that possible?

"He was my...boyfriend, John." He said; he closed his eyes and winced.

"How was he your boyfriend? Why didn't you ever tell me about him? You told me that you didn't have any boyfriends until you met me."

John wasn't really offended, or hurt. Mainly, he was shocked. Shocked that Sherlock would keep something like _this _away from him. He thought that they were supposed to be honest with each other. He thought that Sherlock wanted to be more honest with him. Sherlock winced and shook his head.

"Because he's not important. Well..." He thought about what he wanted to say next carefully; he didn't want to upset John more. "Because I didn't think that you _did _need to know about him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to just pop out of no where."

"But who is he? Why did he...act like that?"

Sherlock winced. "I don't want to talk about it, John it isn't important."

John sighed. "Please tell me, Sher?" He asked softly, hoping that his tone would help convince him to tell him more things about his ex.

Sherlock ran a hand through his curly hair.

"He...abused me, John. That's why he acted like that. He...he didn't think that I should have left him. He thought that I should have been his." He winced again as memories of that time flashed through his mind.

John frowned. Sherlock was abused? He was...actually abused? The thought of Sherlock being taken advantage of made him want to shoot the guy. He sighed and ran a hand down his face. No. He couldn't think about that. He wasn't a killer.

"I'm..I'm sorry."

John whispered, unsure of what else to say. After all, what could he say? Nothing he could say would make Sherlock feel better. So, instead of talking about the guy, he kissed Sherlock's head.

"He can't hurt you now though, okay? Not anymore, at least."

Sherlock smiled.

"Thank you, John, I appreciate it." He hums and kisses John's chest. He traced a pattern along the fabric. "Do you know when I can leave here?" He asked softly.

John shook his head. "No, I don't, but I don't think that you'll be leaving here soon, Sher. You just got shot, after all. You need to rest."

He sighed and slapped the bed. "But I am ready to leave this place! I am tired of being confined to this puny bed."

John raised an eyebrow. "Puny?"

Sherlock let out another sigh. "Yes, John, this bed is puny. I miss our bed at home."

John chuckled and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "You'll be back in that bed in no time, Sher. You just have to be patient."

Sherlock shook his head.

"Being patient is for the weak. I don't want to be patient."

"Being patient is _not _for the weak. It's actually for the strong. You see, if you're not patient, Sher, your wound won't heal properly and then you'll have to stay in the hospital for longer."

Sherlock grimaced.

"I don't want to stay in here for longer. I just want to go home."

John ran a hand through Sherlock's hair, hoping to make the man more at ease. Sherlock hummed softly and closed his eyes. John smiled softly and kissed the detective's temple.

"Go to sleep...it'll help you heal faster."

Sherlock, for once, didn't fight John. He shifted a bit, but he felt sleep come over him within minutes. Soon, he was in a land of his own thoughts, and completely oblivious to reality.

Later on that day, the nurse came in with Sherlock's food. When Sherlock first saw the food, he pushed it away. It didn't look bad, but he wasn't in any mood to eat. He didn't_ want _to eat. Eating would require too much energy. Energy that he was not willing to give up.

After about an hour and a half, Sherlock finally took a bite of his food, much to John's delight. Throughout the hour and a half, Sherlock made it his mission to poke at the toast, sniff the toast, and stare at it like it was poisoned by some mad man. John tried to tell Sherlock that the food was fine, but Sherlock didn't listen to him.

When he took the bite, John watched every. Single. Little. Movement. That he made. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the way John was watching him of course, but that didn't stop John from staring. Sherlock took a bite and smiled softly when he swallowed.

"Okay...that was not as bad as I expected it to be," he said, sensing that John was going to ask him what he thought about it.

John grinned and nodded. "I told you that it wouldn't be bad."

Sherlock grunted and continued to eat the rest of his sandwich silently. Once he was done, he pushed the tray away. John smiled softly and kissed Sherlock's temple.

"Thank you for eating, Sher. I really appreciate you actually eating it."

Sherlock blushed.

"You're welcome, John." He leaned against the smaller man and sighed. "I am bored, John. I don't want to be in this hospital anymore. It is _very _boring."

John chuckled and ran his hand through Sherlock's curls.

"I know. I'm sure that you'll be able to get out soon, though. You just have to be-"

"I want that guy to get arrested," Sherlock said. John blinked, unsure of who he was talking about for a second. But then he got it. "He doesn't deserve to be walking around as a free man. He _shot _me, John. He can't just walk around Madrid acting like that never happened."

John smiled. "Well, I could call the police, you know. They typically handle these types of things."

Sherlock shook his head.

"No, I don't want to get the police involved, John. This is my own business. Not theirs."

John frowned. "But..Sher...they handle these types of things. They could help you. And your _ex _did break the law. He should pay for that."

Sherlock sighed. "I know that, John, but he could get revenge...just like he tried to get today."

"Really? You think that he would try to do that? I mean, Sher...he'll be in jail. He won't be able to get you from there, and I'm sure that we can get Mycroft to make him get a lifetime sentence."

Sherlock tensed. Yes, that was true. He was sure that Mycroft would be _very _happy to get this little "problem" off of his hands. But the thing was though that this guy had friends. His ex could tell his "minions" that Sherlock Holmes was the cause of his arrest. Then, his minions would come after him and try to kill him. Or, that's what he thought that they would do. It made quite a lot of sense to Sherlock. But, that might have just been because he knew his ex relatively well, even if he hadn't seen him since university.

"Come on, Sherlock, what are you thinking?" John said after a few moments of silence. He could practically _hear _Sherlock's brain whirl.

Sherlock let out a small breath. "I was just thinking about what would happen if he went to jail. His little 'friends' would probably try to hurt me if that happened to him. They're _very _loyal to him, John."

"But can't Mycroft send them to jail, too? I mean, I'm sure that they've broken the law too. _Especially _since they hang out with him."

Sherlock shrugged. Why did this mean so much to John? He's about to ask him why, but then it hit him. Oh. It's because he cared about him, of course. He wanted to make sure that the people that hurt Sherlock were put in a place that kept them away from Sherlock so they couldn't hurt him again. Sherlock sighed and kissed John's chest.


End file.

Sherlock, Angst, Romance