Nothing But Flowers (Johnlock)

Epilogue

The alarm went off, and John rolled over to hit the snooze button. When he sunk back under the covers, long arms encircled him, pulling him back into a warm embrace.

Chuckling, John put his hands down to stroke along those arms. "Sherlock, I need to get up." He wasn't eager to leave the cozy bed, but work was pressing.

"Boring." A low rumble near his ear pronounced, followed by some slow kisses down his neck. He shifted closer, pressing against John's ass.

John turned on to his back, smiling up at the sleep-rumpled man beside him. Pushing a hand into his messy curls, he dragged his head down for a deep kiss.

Sherlock moaned, shifting over John, things intensifying quickly.

Pushing a hand against his chest, John shook his head slowly. "I want to, but there's not enough time."

"But it's been ages." Sherlock complained, kissing along his jaw.

John scoffed. "Two days. You could come over before I'm asleep if you are gagging for it so bad." He sat up, rolling his shoulder to see how stiff it was this morning. Most mornings, he woke to Sherlock in his bed, usually not waking up when he arrived in middle of the night.

Large hands settled on his shoulders, massaging away the tension there. "Fine. How about I give you a hand in the shower?"

With a quick glance of the clock, and John nodded, dragging Sherlock with him to the bathroom.

...

"Could you tell Sherlock to be a little quieter when he comes over after 11 pm? There have been some complaints about him slamming the front door and running up the stairs." Francesca passed John another beer and settled on the sofa beside him.

He nodded as he took a long sip.

Janine accepted a beer from Francesca as well. "When are you two going to move in with each other? It's been months and things are going well, right?"

"Why do we need to do that? As you just said, things are going well, just as they are." John smirked back. It had been going great with Sherlock so far, much better than he had expected.

She gave him a look like he was an idiot. "Well, don't you want things to progress to the next level with him? Live together, maybe get married eventually?"

John shrugged. "The Mexican artists Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera lived in houses beside each other with a bridge between their roofs. Do you think we could get something like that here?"

Now Francesca was also giving him a funny look. "You two care about each other deeply, I can tell when I see you together. And he seems to spend most nights here already. What's the problem?"

John sighed, picking at the paper label on his bottle as he gathered his thoughts. "You two still think of him as Frank, but Sherlock really isn't like that. You haven't seen his flat or the nature of his work. He basically has a chemistry lab in his kitchen, and works long hours. He truly is a genius."

"So...?" Janine prompted.

John flicked her a glance. The women were close friends, and he truly didn't mind discussing this with them, but he wondered if there was any way to really explain it. "We are men over forty with well established careers and lifestyles. I wouldn't want to live full time in his chaotic mess, and he would feel stifled living here, behaving like Frank. We are better off with our own living spaces. We would probably get frustrated and argue constantly if we lived together."

Francesca shook her head, putting down her empty bottle. "But part of being in a serious relationship is changing and compromising to be together. Supporting each other, sharing your lives."