Falling For You

Battle Wounds

221B Baker Street had never seemed so appealing to Sherlock Holmes.  Of course, he loved his quaint flat in Westminster, but he had never missed it like he did then.  He closed his eyes and took everything in.  Every scent, every drift blowing across his face.  He liked thinking about the flat and what the night would bring.  John would sleep with Sherlock and they would cuddle up against each other and kiss a few times.

"Good to be back?" John asked as he watched Sherlock stand with his arms outstretched and his eyes closed like he was imagining something.  Something wonderful, by the look on Sherlock's proud face.

"The best," he replied softly.

Sherlock paced around the flat, his hands gliding over everything.  John smiled as Sherlock did this. John liked seeing Sherlock in his natural habitat, and he knew that soon enough Sherlock would be back to wearing his sheet and parading around like an arrogant arsehole again.

Sherlock turned to John and moved closer to him, their foreheads leaning against the other's.  "I like having you here," Sherlock said.

"I live here," John giggled.

"No," Sherlock said firmly, his hands sliding up John's back.  Shivers ran up and down John's spine.  "I like having you right here."

Then Sherlock swiftly painted John's lips with his own.  It was passionate and the kiss just getting deeper and deeper until the two were on the couch, covering each other in a shower of kisses. Niether one of them wanted the moment to end, and neither one of them wanted to even stop for air. Kissing had become a new form of oxygen for the lovers, and they could go about the same amount of time without sharing a kiss that they could go without breathing.

At some point, Sherlock found that John had fallen asleep.  Sherlock didn't mind, and he carried John to their room and got out a set of John's pyjamas.  He cautiously removed John's jumper and slipped a night shirt over his head.  He made sure not to wake him up, so each move had to be like silk.  

Sherlock realized that he had never seen John shirtless before, and he was quite a bit fitter than he looked.  Sherlock knew how John had practically starved himself after Sherlock's apperant death, but he wasn't aware that it had changed him this much.  His stomach was flat and muscular.  His ab area was embossed and Sherlock fought the urge to trace the budding ablings with his delicate fingers.  He blushed and moved onto John's trousers.

Sherlock didn't know how he was supposed to contain himself around his love's trousers and pants. He decided to keep his pants on and simply replace his day's trousers with night ones, but Sherlock still found himself getting slightly flustered that he was seeing all of the parts of John that John had never seen of him.  Of course, John had seem him shirtless quite a bit because he was always parading around in a sheet, but John had always been more self concious.

That's when Sherlock remembered the scar.  There was a scar on John's shoulder that he always tried to hide because he was afraid it made him look ugly, but while John was asleep, Sherlock took advantage and lifted his shirt to study it.  He found the scar easily enough.  It was obvious that a bullet was the cause of the wound, but Sherlock didn't find anything unappealing about.  It made John look tougher if anything, and definetly more wheathered, which Sherlock didn't mind.  It just reminded him that John Watson had a life before Sherlock and he would have a life after.

Sherlock kissed John's forehead and tucked him in under the blankets of their bed and fell asleep next to him after a while of studying his perfect face.

They both decided, at least in their humble dreams, that everything was finally perfect.