Marriage and Mental Illness (Sequel to Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles)

New Year's and New Marriages

John's POV

New Year's Eve

The other side of the bed was empty when I awoke. My hand landed on cool, vacant sheets, the confusion forcing me into full consciousness. I pushed myself into a sitting position, scanning the room. Sherlock wasn't in the bedroom, or in the bathroom. The bedside clock read 8 am, still quite early, especially for Sherlock. I yawned, pushing my hair back with my fingers before finally getting out of bed.

I found him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. I smiled toothlessly, deeply inhaling the scent of bacon frying. Sherlock glanced up, smiling faintly when he saw me. "Happy New Year's Eve, John." I moved to take a seat at the breakfast bar, kissing him quickly.

"Happy New Year's Eve." I propped my chin up with one hand as I watched him make breakfast. He took note of my gaze, eyes occasionally flickering to mine. "What?" He asked, chuckling. "It's not that unreasonable for me to make you breakfast, is it?" He finished making it, setting the plates next to me.

I laughed as well, shaking my head. "No, not at all, it's just you're cute when you cook." Sherlock flushed from the flattery, shaking his head with a small smile. He leaned over the counter so that our faces were mere inches apart. I grabbed his wrist, squeezing it lightly. He leaned in even further, tension rising quickly between us.

My breath hitched, my eyes flickering down to his lips. "Cute, hm? What about 'irresistible,' John? Am I irresistible?" His deep voice rumbled, and my heart rate quickened. I forced myself to look up into his eyes, at that vast ocean in front of me. I gaze fell back down to his lips once more, a smirk appearing on them. The plates sat forgotten off to the side.

"Damn you, Sherlock." I crashed my lips against him, truly unable to resist. He responded with just as much enthusiasm, cupping my face in his hands. I broke away, just long enough to step around the kitchen island to him. I pushed him against it, bringing our lips together again. My thumb ran down his throat lightly. A small gasp came from him, and I smirked. I lifted him up onto the counter, sliding my hands down his thighs.

"You're a tease," Sherlock whispered, breathless. His legs wrapped around my waist, bringing me even closer to him.I grinned, "Am I now? Interesting." I leaned in, attaching my mouth to his collarbone. His hands fisted themselves in my hair as a low groan came from the back of his throat. I ran my hands along his thighs again, fingers trailing lazily.

"You know that you are," he growled, his self-control having gone out the window. I didn't remove myself from his throat until I knew there was a deep purple mark, visible to anyone. I grabbed his jaw in my hand, forcing him to look at me. Adrenaline lined his gaze, the expression turning lewd. "Moving to the bedroom now would take too much time," I remarked, scanning his face. His infamous crooked grin appeared before I kissed him again.

***

Needless to say, breakfast was delayed for a while. By the time that we got around to it, it had gone cold. "It's a good thing this place has a microwave," Sherlock said off-handedly, sticking one plate in.

"Thank you for making breakfast." Sherlock smiled, taking out the warmed plate of food, and stuck in the other one. "You always make breakfast, plan the romantic things, I thought it might be nice if I did it for a change."He shrugged, the dress robe slipping off his shoulder. My brow scrunched in confusion, catching onto his mistake.

"You? Not romantic? Should I remind you of this day last year?" Sherlock rolled his eyes, smiling, as I leaned in close, brushing my lips against the tip of his ear. "Or Valentine's Day? What about this amazing, romantic honeymoon you planned? And our wedding, you did a fair bit with that. And yet you say you're not romantic."