Author Notes: Finally, the last chapter of this story. :) Smut and feelings ahead, so enjoy it and let me know how you liked it. =)

High Waves and Calm Water

"You should go and take a shower," John suggested and stroked Sherlock's left cheek tenderly. His face was newly flushed with warmth - a side effect of their kiss - but the rest of Sherlock felt icy. John could feel the cold sipping through the thin cotton of Sherlock's shirt, where he was pressed against his friend. Guilt flashed through John, when it hit him that Sherlock was only trembling in his arms, because of John's stupidity. No matter, how often he apologized and how often Sherlock forgave him, the fact remained that his friend - and boyfriend - had spent the better part of four hours outside, because John had acted like an idiot.

"Stop it," Sherlock murmured against his ear and John glanced up at him. "You agonize, because you believe it's your fault that I spent so much time outside and that I'm in danger of catching a cold."

"Or pneumonia," John muttered darkly. He didn't ask how Sherlock knew what he had been thinking, it had probably been written all over John's face and Sherlock was fantastic at reading him. The only exception was, when Sherlock was emotionally involved as well and misinterpreted John's actions - like today. John should have known that. He should have acted differently and...

"Really, John, it's annoying." A sigh ruffled John's short hair, when Sherlock pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm a grown man and it was my decision to stay outside without my coat or scarf. I could have gone inside or driven away with the car. If I catch something, I'm responsible for it... but I won't mind if you nurse me back to health." There was a twinkle in the blue depths and John couldn't help the smile that pulled his lips upwards as he met Sherlock's gaze, although he still wasn't convinced that he wasn't to blame if Sherlock got sick. Nevertheless, he would let the matter rest. If Sherlock really got ill, his whines and demands would be punishment enough for John.

"You should still take a warm shower." John underlined his words with a kiss to Sherlock's jaw and his heart jumped at the chaste contact. It wasn't so much the contact of his lips against the skin of Sherlock's face, which was awesome, John mused, when his friend sighed in faked annoyance and gathered his towel and pajamas, but that he was allowed to kiss Sherlock. John had often imagined to kiss his friend and hold him close, but the reality of it was much better than anything John's mind had come up with. For starters, it was real - as idiotic as that might sound - and John didn't have to fear that Sherlock would vanish, when he opened his eyes. And then, it was... Sherlock. His amazing friend, who had forgiven John his stupid actions, although he had believed that John wouldn't want him as more than a friend anymore. The thought sent a spark of pain through his chest and John squeezed his eyes shut, when he recalled how Sherlock had confessed his love to him, although he had been sure that his feelings wouldn't be returned. It hurt. Not that Sherlock had doubted John's feelings - he had deserved that - but that his friend had so easily come to the conclusion that John couldn't be interested in a romantic relationship with him anymore. It spoke volumes about how others had treated Sherlock, after they had learned about his gender identity. John hated each and every one of them, even while he hated himself for having brought these insecurities back to Sherlock. He would have to make it up to his friend by showing him how much he was loved by John, for the rest of his life. Or as long as Sherlock allowed John to stay in his life.

"You are thinking too much."

John jerked in surprise, when Sherlock walked back into the room and threw himself onto the bed with a smirk in John's direction. His skin was flushed from the hot shower and his still damp hair curled more than usual on Sherlock's forehead and John... was helplessly in love with this beautiful creature.

"Says the man, who belittles others for not using the full potential of their brains," John returned with a fond smile as he sat down on the edge of the bed and snatched the towel that was slung over Sherlock's shoulders. "You should really make up your mind if you want us to think or stop doing it all together."

"I want you to think, but not, when it includes beating yourself up about today." Sherlock peered at him over his shoulder and John just sighed in defeat and made to dry the unruly curls with the towel. "I really can't hide anything from you."

"No, you can't," Sherlock grinned and then leaned back into John's touch and purred - there was no other word for it - while John dried his hair carefully. "You are like a big, content cat," John whispered adoringly and combed his fingers through the curls to untangle the mess, Sherlock had made of them. They felt like pure silk and John caught himself running his fingers through them over and over again, even after they were dry and in some sort of order. Stroking Sherlock's hair was one of the fantasies, that had left John staring at his friend - when he was in his typical thinking pose on the couch - and wishing that he was allowed to touch. He had yearned to bed Sherlock's head on his thigh and play with his curls, until the mad genius fell asleep on John.

"You enjoy that." Sleepiness slurred Sherlock's vocals and John smiled, as he threw the towel - which was soaked now - to the ground and arranged them in a more comfortable position on the bed.

"What gave me away?" John inquired amused, lying on his back, with Sherlock's head on his chest and plenty access to the soft curls. "You aren't stopping. Don't stop, it's... nice." The last word was almost swallowed by a yawn and John reached for the covers with his free hand and pulled them up to their chests. "I won't stop," John whispered and tasted around on the nightstand, until he was able to switch the Tiffany lamp off. "I'll never stop, if you don't want me to."

It was comfortably dark and quiet in the room. The silence only interrupted by Sherlock's deep breaths and John was certain that his friend had fallen asleep, when he moved against John's side and murmured almost inaudible: "Don't be an idiot."

Only a second passed, before John understood that it was a reply to his former words and a huge smile split his lips. "I won't be, not in this, I promise," John whispered back, but he didn't get a reaction as exhaustion had finally taken its toll and Sherlock was deeply asleep. They hadn't even discussed sharing a bed, it had just happened, John thought with a smile, while his eyes drifted shut as he was lulled to sleep by Sherlock's even breathing and the warmth of his body, snuggled against John's.

OOO

Church bells. Sherlock groaned and buried his face in the crook of John's neck. That was one reason why he hated the country, the church bells were much too loud in the morning, especially on Sundays. While there were a lot of churches in London, the sound of their bells was mostly mixed with the other noises of the city. It allowed Sherlock to ignore their annoying call, but it was different in the country. There weren't enough noises to drown out the deafening sounds of the bells and Sherlock finally gave up on going back to sleep, when the bells of another church joined into the concert.

Sherlock forced his eyes open and grinned, when the first thing he saw was the profile of John's sleeping face. What would his relatives - which had to be on their way to church by now - say, if they saw him like this? The aunts, uncles and cousins, that hadn't accepted him as a boy and told his parents that they should send him to therapy. They had sent Sherlock numerous packets, which contained dresses, skirts and make-up - which had all been donated to charity - until Mummy had told them to piss off and they hadn't heard from any of them, since Sherlock had turned sixteen. He imagined the various shocked faces of his relatives for some time and their remarks, until he grew bored of it and turned his attention to more important matters. In short, Sherlock focused on John. His friend - boyfriend really - was still sleeping, but he was starting to get restless and Sherlock knew from experiences - he had often watched John sleep - that he would wake up soon. It would be their first morning of waking up together and Sherlock looked forward to it, although his heart flattered nervously in his chest at the numerous possibilities of how this could play out. Would there be lazy kisses in bed or would John follow his usual routine and go for a shower right away?

Another possibility came to Sherlock's mind, when John turned on his side in his sleep and Sherlock felt an unmistakable hardness being pressed against his stomach. John was aroused, the finding made warmth pool in Sherlock's belly, although he was aware that it was merely a physical reaction of sleeping close to another human being. It didn't have to mean anything and yet, Sherlock wanted it to mean something. He wanted John to be hard, because of him and he wanted... Sherlock wanted to get John off.

Sherlock swallowed hard and pressed his thighs together as his body started to react to the picture that thought had produced. It had been a long time - almost five years - since Sherlock had indulged in sexual activities with someone else and it wasn't hard to admit to himself that he was as nervous as he was aroused at the prospect of... making love with John. Sherlock was confident in his abilities of giving John a great time, but he was still insecure about his body... No, that was wrong. Sherlock wasn't insecure about his body, he liked how he looked and he knew that he was attractive. Actually, he was nervous about how John would react to his body. His friend had certainly given the impression that he wanted Sherlock in every possible way and that the state of his genitalia didn't matter to him, but John might have fooled himself. Sherlock didn't doubt that John believed what he had said, but it was still possible that he would be put off by the mismatch of Sherlock's gender and his genitalia.

His stomach quivered with nerves and Sherlock contemplated getting out of bed to postpone the inevitable, but then he decided against it. Sooner or later, they would have sex and Sherlock would rather learn how John felt about him now than when he was even more involved in their relationship. Besides, there was something incredibly arousing and naughty about making love in his old room, with his parents and brother in the house. Sherlock chuckled quietly, as he imagined how Mycroft would look if he barged into his room at the wrong moment and it helped him to push his nervousness aside for the time being.

"Morning," John murmured next to him. "You are in a good mood."

Sherlock hummed in reply and kissed John's eyebrows, while his friend blinked himself awake. A lazy smile rested on his lips as he gazed up at Sherlock, until his mind became fully awake - Sherlock noted the exact second - and a look of embarrassment crossed John's face.

"Sorry," he whispered as his cheeks colored slightly. "I will just..." John made a vague gesture to the adjoining door to the bathroom with one hand, but Sherlock would have none of it. Before John could even move his lower body away from him, Sherlock slung an arm around John's waist and trapped him in bed. "I would rather you take care of your problem here or," Sherlock nipped at John's earlobe. "I could take care of it for you."

"Oh God," John groaned and pressed back against Sherlock. "That's... Aren't we moving too fast?" Sherlock marveled at how responsible John could be, even when his whole body had to scream at him to take instead of talk.

"We have both waited long enough," Sherlock pointed out to him and sneaked his hand under John's shirt. "There are no cases, my parents won't expect us for breakfast for another couple of hours and what's more," Sherlock stroked alongside John's ribs and up to his left nipple, which earned him a hissed breath. "We both want it."

Doubt and desire flickered over John's features, before they settled on desire and John nodded his consent. "Alright, but not like this." John tore away from Sherlock's searching hand and jumped out of the bed in an instant.

For a terrible long moment, Sherlock feared that he had miscalculated - in spite of all the evidence to the contraire - when John stalked to the window and pulled the curtains open. Early morning sunlight flooded the room and Sherlock blinked in the sudden brightness, while he tried to make sense of John's actions. Had John only agreed to have sex with him, in order to distract Sherlock, so that he could get away from him? But that didn't make sense. John could have just told him that he really wasn't in the mood for a lazy morning shag and...

"Do you need help undressing?" John's teasing voice snapped Sherlock out of his dark musing and his jaw literally dropped, when he noticed John's state of undress. He was naked, bathed in the golden sunlight that drew highlights on his body and made him look like a young Greek God. Only the scarred skin on his left shoulder destroyed the picture... or maybe it added to the impression of a bellicose God - Sherlock hadn't decided yet. His eyes wandered over John's body and he absently noted the pattern of spare hair on his chest and how it was lighter than the curls of pubic hair, amid which John's cock was nested.

The sight of John's erection, thick and proud, made the blood in Sherlock's body rush southwards and he felt an answering throb between his legs. God, it had been ages, since he had been that aroused and they hadn't even done anything yet. The thought of more to come, sent a wave of heat down his spine and Sherlock felt much too hot all of a sudden. His pajamas were too restricting and uncomfortable and everything in Sherlock screamed to take them off, to strip down to his skin. He only hesitated for a second, before he pulled his shirt over his head and kicked his pajama bottoms off and then... he waited.

Sherlock held his breath as he watched John for a reaction to his naked body. There was nothing left to the imagination anymore, as the covers had been thrown aside in Sherlock's haste to disrobe. Everything, from his erect nipples to his throbbing sex was on display for his boyfriend to see and judge.

John didn't move at first. His eyes roamed over his body and Sherlock forced himself to lay still on his side as John's gaze swept over him, although he couldn't help but wonder what John saw. Did he analyze which surgeries Sherlock had undergone or was he appreciating the faint flush on his chest? Whatever it was, at least John's arousal hadn't wavered, Sherlock noted with a glance to John's still erect cock. That was something, wasn't it? Another thirty seconds passed and Sherlock was about to snap at John to make up his mind, when his boyfriend surprised him once more. "It was a good decision."

Sherlock frowned at the cryptic statement, although he inwardly sighed in relief, when John came over to the bed and lay down next to him - facing Sherlock with a loving smile. "It would have been such a waste, if I hadn't been able to see you for our first time together." Ah, the curtains, Sherlock's mind supplied. John had opened them to get a better view of Sherlock. And in return, Sherlock was could see more of John. Quite brilliant, indeed.

"You know," John murmured and stroked Sherlock's hip. "You have been wrong."

"I'm never wrong," Sherlock protested and he only didn't pout at the idiotic accusation, because John made up for the accusation with his skilled mouth and... Oh, Sherlock loved kissing. "Alright, you made a miscalculation, when you deduced that I had a crisis about my sexuality. I didn't."

Sherlock couldn't respond to the statement as he was too busy focusing on the sensation of John's lips on his neck. He hadn't known that his throat was an erogenous zone, until John tucked his skin between his lips and sucked and the throbbing between his legs intensified.

"You aren't the first man, I'm with," John admitted as he pushed Sherlock on his back and rolled on top of him. "I wasn't worried about that part."

"Then what were you... worried about?" Sherlock's question ended in a gasp, when John licked his left nipple and it hardened under the ministrations. He had never been so happy that his chest was still sensitive to touch than while John was teasing him out of his mind.

"I was worried, because it was you, I had fallen in love with." John pinched his right nipple between his middle and index finger and Sherlock gasped at the onslaught of pleasure mixed with pain. "You, a self-proclaimed sociopath, who scoffed at the notion of sentiments and wasn't interested in relationships. I feared for my heart and sanity."

"What did change your mind?" Sherlock wasn't really interested in an answer. He just liked to listen to John's voice, still hoarse from sleep and laced with lust. Sherlock believed that one day, he could just come from listening to John talking about his day at work.

"You did." John captured Sherlock's mouth in a passionate kiss. Sherlock slung his arms around John's back and threw his right leg over John's hip to drew them closer together. Their teeth clicked as they grinded together and Sherlock growled deep in his throat as moisture leaked from between his legs. "You are dazzling brilliant, beautiful and an utter wanker and I just... I decided that it was worth the risk of a broken heart and my sanity, if I got the chance to be with you."

A happy laugh escaped Sherlock at that and he leaned up to cover John's lips with kisses to claim the words for himself. No one had ever confessed their love in a more beautiful manner to Sherlock. Not that many people had tried, but still...

"Is there anything you are averse to?" John traced a finger from Sherlock's navel to his pubic hair and wrapped a curl around his finger. "And before you get it wrong, I ask that of all my partners. I'm willing to experiment, but I don't like to make my lovers uncomfortable in bed, so I always ask beforehand."

Sherlock wasn't sure if John was making this up for his sake or if he was telling the truth. Both was possible, because John was a considerate lover and a wonderful and kind man and Sherlock didn't really care one way or the other. He only wanted more of John's touches. Now, that he was sure of John's affection and attraction - to all parts of him - Sherlock didn't want to waste time thinking, he wanted to feel. To feel John and preferably his tongue between Sherlock's legs.

"Don't feminize my genitals, if you talk about them and... I'm not found of vaginal penetration. At all." Sherlock emphasized the last words, as he had made the experience that some men didn't take him serious on that matter, although he doubted that he had anything to fear in this regard from John.

"So," John sat up on his heels and stroked a finger between Sherlock's legs, until he found the bundle of nerves there and teased it lightly. "That's your cock." It was more a statement than a question, but Sherlock moaned in confirmation nonetheless. "A blowjob is fine, but no penetration... at all or is it fine, here?" John moved his finger between his cheeks and a raspy breath fell from Sherlock's lips, when the finger stroked over his anus. "I take that as a yes, then." John winked at him and then leaned over him to retrieve a bottle of Vaseline from the nightstand - courtesy of Mummy, Sherlock deduced. "Not as good as lube, but sufficient for today."

A shiver of anticipation ran down Sherlock's spine at the promising words. He could deduce what John had planned for him, but that didn't decrease his arousal at all. In fact, it was almost quite the opposite, as Sherlock's mind created analyses after analyses of where and how John would touch him and how it would affect Sherlock. His own imagination was so powerful that he couldn't hold back a loud moan, when John parted his pubic hair and breathed on his small cock.

A low chuckle sounded from between Sherlock's legs. "We should probably buy Mrs. Hudson earplugs. I'm just glad that your parents sleep in a different part of the house." Something stirred in Sherlock's mind at that. His parents' room was far enough away from his to prevent them from hearing anything, that was right, but...

"Oh my... John!" All the thoughts flew from Sherlock's mind, when a skilled and wet - so perfectly wet - tongue teased the head of his cock. Raw nerve endings fired signals of pure lust through his whole body and Sherlock had to hold onto the sheets to stop himself from grabbing John's hair, in an attempt to make him go faster and harder and... Oh, that was perfect. Sherlock threw his head back and groaned, when John's lips closed around his throbbing cock and sucked on it. It was heaven and hell at once, salvation and torture. Sherlock never wanted it to stop and wanted it to end at the same time and...

"Fuck! Ah...John... Yes, please!" Sherlock didn't knew what he was begging for, but John understood him. John always understood him, even when Sherlock didn't understand himself. Therefore, Sherlock wasn't surprised when a slick finger circled his anus and then pushed into him at once.

"Yesss," he hissed and pushed back against John's finger. "You're incredible... Oh Christ!" A wave of pleasure surged through his body and Sherlock couldn't hold back the scream that was torn from his throat. Stimulation of the perineal sponge spot, his mind supplied helpfully, when John crooked his finger inside him once more and Sherlock teetered at the edge of climax. It was almost too much. His legs shook, when Sherlock spread them even wider to give John better access. Sweat was trickling down his chest. His breath escaped him in irregular pants and screams. His cock throbbed against John's tongue. His nerve endings were firing signals of pure pleasure nonstop. Arousal was pooling in his belly and...

"Come for me, Sherlock!"

The order was a mere whisper in the room, but it was enough to push Sherlock over the edge, when John's tongue found its target once more and the pleasure reached its peak. White exploded in Sherlock's vision and his whole body shook with the power of his orgasm as he rode on waves of pure pleasure. Sherlock couldn't say how long his orgasm lasted, but when he sank back onto the pillow with a groan, he felt like he had spent hours chasing through London after a serial killer. In short, he was satisfied, exhausted and in love with life... and John.

"You were incredible," his boyfriend whispered in Sherlock's ear as he lay down next to him. "So beautiful. I almost came alone from watching you." Heat rose in Sherlock's cheeks at the compliment and he sealed John's lips with his, before his boyfriend could remark on the mortifying blush.

They shared lazy kisses for what felt like hours and Sherlock wouldn't have minded if they spent the rest of the day like this - his parents would let him stay until tomorrow - until John' still hard cock nudged his hip and Sherlock drew back. In his post-coital haze, he had almost forgotten that John hadn't come yet.

"Sorry, I haven't," Sherlock started, unsure how to apologize for such an oversight, but John kissed the apology from his lips and shook his head with a smile. "It's fine, no harm done and I really like how cuddly you get after you have come. Another reason to do it more often." Sherlock felt his whole face and chest flush at that, but he ignored it, in favor of stroking down between John's legs and rubbing the tip of his finger over the head of his cock. "What would you like me to do?" Sherlock asked over John's needy moan. He already had an idea what John would like, but he wasn't sure if that was on his boyfriend's mind or if he would prefer something else.

"Deduce it." John breathed the challenge against his flushed cheek and Sherlock smirked. "Let's see," he started and gave John's cock an experimental stroke. "You enjoy all kinds of sex, although oral stimulation is a favorite of yours." Sherlock inched lower until his eyes were on level with John's navel and licked the head of his cock. John groaned and his hips bucked desperately. Sherlock chuckled and licked a line from John's balls to his perineum, before withdrawing once more. "It's definitely your favorite, but not how you would like to come now, although you wouldn't complain if I got you off with my mouth."

"Certainly not," John gasped in affirmation.

"Mhm, what else do we have?" Sherlock ignored John's input, although he couldn't help but note how hot his boyfriend was like this. His upper body was flushed with passion. His lips were red and swollen from pleasuring Sherlock earlier. His short hair stuck up in all directions and the flushed head of his cock leaked freely, when Sherlock teased it with his fingertip. Warmth curled anew in his belly, but Sherlock ignored it for now as he focused his whole attention on John. "You aren't averse to anal penetration, in fact," Sherlock rubbed John's anus with his slick finger. "You would love me to fuck you now."

"Oh God, yes." John all put panted and Sherlock felt remorse that he wasn't able to fulfill John's wish. At least not here. He had the necessary equipment at Bakerstreet - including real lube - and he would make sure that John got what he had asked for, when they had gotten back home.

"Next time," Sherlock promised and John moaned in agreement. "Next time, I'll open you up with my fingers, until you beg me for more and then I'll fuck you, until you don't know your own name anymore. Just my name. I want you to come with my name on your lips, when I fuck you."

"God, Sherlock... please!" John's cock twitched between them and Sherlock filled the knowledge that his boyfriend was turned on by dirty talk away for later. For now though, Sherlock tasted for the tube of Vaseline and slicked his fingers, when he found it.

"Sherlock?" Confused eyes blinked down at him, when Sherlock turned on his side with his back to John. "You wouldn't only like to be taken, you would also enjoy fucking me. Sadly," Sherlock spread the Vaseline on the inside of his thighs. "We don't have a sufficient lube for anal sex, but I'm sure you'll enjoy this just as much." Sherlock crossed his ankles and pressed his legs together, until only a small hole was left between his thighs. For a second, there was silence and Sherlock feared that he had made a miscalculation, before a gasp of recognition sounded behind him and John all but scrambled into position. It took them a few tries, until John's cock was comfortably seated between Sherlock's thighs and he had enough space to thrust, but then, it was amazing.

Sherlock panted in time with his thrusts as John chased his orgasm and drove Sherlock closer to his second one, at the same time. The sounds of flesh hitting flesh. The feeling of John's cock between his thighs. The pants in his ear. The warmth of John against his back. The... Oh God, John's finger between his legs. Rubbing and stroking and...

Sherlock barely managed to keep his thighs pressed together as his second orgasm hit him by surprise. He didn't know if he was screaming or if it was John's voice that echoed through the room, while his body shook in almost painful pleasure. A part of Sherlock's mind only registered how John tensed behind him and then a sudden splash of warm slickness between his thighs.

"Sher...Sherlock!"

They held each other through their peaks of lust, until their limbs stopped shaking and their breathing calmed down to something resembling normal. And even then, they only rearranged their positions, so that John was lying on his back with Sherlock sprawled over his left side. They didn't talk. They didn't move. They just breathed in the cocoon of love they had created.

The bells of the nearby church announced the eleventh hour and John's sigh ruffled Sherlock's hair.

"We should get up," he suggested and nudged Sherlock's shoulder with his nose.

"Why?" Sherlock was much too content to get up. John's scent and warmth were all around him and Sherlock wouldn't mind spending the rest of the day in bed like this. Maybe, they could get in another round of sex in an hour or just share some more kisses or...

"We are in your parents' home. They will expect us downstairs at some point and we still have to tell them that everything worked out between us." Sherlock rolled his eyes at that and grabbed John around the waist as he made to get up. "It won't hurt them if we stay here for another hour."

"Yes, it might," John detangled himself from Sherlock and sat up on the edge of the bed. "Besides, I don't want to get drowned in the pond, if Mycroft doesn't get proof of how happy we are together."

"Oh, if it's just that." Sherlock scrambled to his knees and hugged John close from behind. "You don't need to worry about him. He knows that we are happily together."

A skeptical eyebrow rose at that as John glanced over his shoulder at Sherlock. "How could Mycroft know about that? He doesn't have cameras installed in your room, has he?" Sherlock laughed at the panicked tone of John's voice. "No, even Mycroft wouldn't do that, but," Sherlock nipped at John's earlobe, which sent a shudder through the body of his boyfriend. "Mycroft has the room next door and he doesn't get up before ten o'clock, when he is to visit our parents."

John grew completely still, his back tensed and Sherlock feared that it had been a mistake to tell him about the location of Mycroft's room, when John erupted in giggles. "You... You, mad git! Mycroft... God, I will never be able to look at him again."

"Probably not, but it will convince Mycroft to uninstall every hidden camera in our flat, which I haven't found yet." John stared at him in disbelief and then Sherlock winked cheekily and they clutched at each other as they tumbled from the bed in a fit of laughter. At one point, they would have to shower and get dressed, but Sherlock didn't think about that, when he wrestled John on his back and started to tickle him. He didn't think about lunch with his parents or the car drive back home. In fact, he didn't think at all. Sherlock just enjoyed this utterly perfect and hilarious moment with John, which was made even easier, when he realised that it was just the first of many more happy moments to come. The first of plenty perfect moments with John.