There was a knock on the door.

Grimacing slightly, John wondered if he should answer or pretend to not be home. It might be some well-intentioned neighbor, wanting to invite him to a family gathering. He could be the awkward interloper, feeling like a third wheel all night, eating a meal that, no matter how good it was, wouldn't be like ones he had in the past, with family or close friends.

He had successfully avoided it at work, diverting people by getting them talking about their own holiday traditions. If pressed, he said he was spending the holidays with some friends. There were some mentions of the mysterious pirate they had seen John with at the Halloween party, which he didn't confirm or deny.

Sighing, John got up and put on a cheerful expression, ready to lie as much as needed, send them on their way thinking John had tons of plans. He did, actually. Looking through old pictures and letters. Listening to music that reminded him of his parents, of better times. Watching a comedy that his sister had loved. He had lost his parents in a car crash in his early twenties, his sister to an overdose a couple years later. The sharp pain had faded over the years, and he just liked to honor them that way at Christmas, when the season brought back so many memories.

His thoughts flew out of his head when Sherlock ended up being the one standing there, a bit of an uncomfortable grin on his face.

"Oh good. You are still here." He said, stepping into the bedsit and closing the door behind him. "Can you pack a small bag and be ready to go in about twenty minutes?"

"Bag? Go? Go where?" John chuckled, glad to see the man. It had been awhile, even though there had been frequent texts. He grabbed Sherlock's lapel, yanking him closer for some kisses.

Sherlock pulled back with a warm smile. "Stop that! We don't have time. Get moving." He went to the closet, rooting around until he threw John's old army duffel bag onto the rug. "That will do."

He kept rooting through everything, throwing a couple jumpers, trousers and shirts on top of the bag quickly.

"Sherlock!" John yanked him away from his clothes. "Talk to me."

Dropping an old pair of army boots near the pile, Sherlock sighed. "You'd be doing me a huge favor."

John waved for him to continue.

"Remember when I told you about my family? I can take them in small doses, but they want me there for a week! Mycroft will be dead by New Years if I'm around him that much." Sherlock ran his hands through his hair, leaving it sticking up a few places.

Smirking a little at seeing him so frazzled, John smoothed his hair down. "So, what is my part in all this?"

"Come with me. Please, John." Sherlock grabbed both of his hands, his green eyes beseeching. "Keep me sane, distract them from asking too many personal questions. I'll owe you big time for this."

Tilting his head a little, John gave him a suspicious look. "So, I'd be there just to help you out? This isn't some drummed up excuse to get me out of my place during the holidays? Some pity trip?"

"Hardly." Sherlock scoffed. "Come with me, and you'll understand. Plus, I want to spend some time with you, away from the city. I'll even show you where Sherlock the Pirate played as a kid."

Pulling away, John thought for a moment or two. Con: Instead of a meal, he'd get a whole awkward week with somebody else's family. Pro: He'd get to spend a whole week with Sherlock, meeting his family and learning more about his past. Con: Being out of the city...unable to get away if he wanted to. Pro: Being out of the city, a good break from his ordinary life and this tiny bedsit. Pro: Time with Sherlock. Pro: Sleeping with Sherlock. Pro: Sex with Sherlock.

"OK, on two conditions...". John finally said with a small smile.

"Yes?" Sherlock already seemed happy and relieved that John was agreeing. He really wanted this.

John swallowed hard, feeling a little nervous. "Um, that we have a code word that means we take a break, getting away from everyone else. And...that we share the same bedroom."

Grinning widely, Sherlock nodded. "Done. Now get moving."

...

"Sherlock..."

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock pulled away from showing John an old photo album to glare at his brother. "I'm busy. Can I ignore you some other time?"

John just kept his head down to hide his smirk. He'd only been at the Holmes' country house a couple days so far, but Mycroft was proving to be as annoying as Sherlock had described.

"If you're gonna be a smart ass, first you have to be smart. Otherwise you're just an ass." Mycroft shot back with a haughty tilt of his head.

"Boys! Just because it's Boxing Day doesn't mean you should be fighting. This is the holidays. Can you please let it rest?" Mrs. Holmes came in with a tray of tea, setting it down on a table nearby, and glared at her sons.

She shot John an apologetic look, as she poured him a cup. "I'm sorry it's been such a zoo around here, but now that our other guests are gone, I can get to know you better."

John took a sip of tea. He liked Sherlock's parents, intelligent although obviously not as brilliant as their sons, and still affectionate with each other after so many years of marriage. "That sounds nice."

"So, how long have you two been together?" Her eyes were very similar to Sherlock's, the same beautiful jade green that sometimes took on other hues. Unfortunately, they also seemed equally perceptive.

Sherlock glared at her. "Mother! I really don't think-"

Reaching over, John placed his hand on Sherlock's, making him stop mid-sentence in surprise. "We've been seeing each other since January, but it's been getting more serious since the summer."

She looked quite pleased at that. "What happened in the summer? What changed it?"

Sharing a glance with Sherlock, John couldn't help but smile at the memory. "Um, well, I went to the wedding of an old friend in Wales, and I didn't know that many people there. I left the reception fairly early, and your son surprised me at the hotel. I don't even know how he knew where I was staying, or when I'd show up. He's always surprising me like that."

Sherlock gave a small scoff. "I'm a detective, John. Figuring things out is my job." His mild complaint was undercut by giving John's hand a small squeeze.

Mrs. Holmes passed around a plate of shortbread. "Well, Sherlock hasn't brought anyone home for ages. I was completely shocked when he called me about it a few weeks ago-"

"Mother!" Sherlock interrupted, jumping to his feet and dragging John with him, whispering Absquatulate into his ear. Their code word for escape. "Um...I'm taking John down to the beach now."

John was still chuckling as they bundled up. "A few weeks ago?"

"Go away." Sherlock snapped, but with a warm look.

As they headed outside, John made a mental note to get Mrs. Holmes on her own as soon as possible. Here was his chance to get some great information on Sherlock, British Man of Mystery.

...

The rocky beach with its turbulent waters was John's favourite spot. He could walk along it for hours, watching the waves, the gulls. Loved the smell, the sound, the taste of salt on Sherlock's lips when he stole kisses.

Picking up a few rocks, Sherlock threw them hard into the ocean, watching how far they went before dropping into the water. "My favorite pirate was born not that far from here, in Hittisleigh. Samuel Bellamy, known as the 'Prince of Pirates'."

"Why?" John smirked at the idea that Sherlock had a 'favorite' pirate.

"He was known to be merciful and generous, not as ruthless as other pirates, even though he took 50 ships in one year. His crew called themselves 'Robin Hood's Men'." Sherlock explained, clearly passionate about the topic.

John didn't know much about pirates. "So, did he sail around this area much?"

Shaking his head, Sherlock gave a little smirk. "No, it was much more lucrative to ambush ships on the triangle trade. They would take slaves from Africa to America, and then take goods back to Europe to sell. He captured one on its maiden voyage full of sugar, rum, gold, and over 10,000 coins. The biggest pirate prize ever captured. He modified the ship, stripping it down to be faster but adding more cannons."

"And he retired a rich man on a tropical island?" John asked.

Knowing John was teasing him, Sherlock just continued on with his tale. "No, the ship sank a year later in a storm and wasn't discovered until 1984. They are still excuvating the site every summer."

They walked further down the beach, and then headed back. It was too cold to stay out too long.

"I've thought of a better nickname for you." John teased.

Sherlock groaned. "Well, anything is better than 'sweetie' or 'gum drop'. Or 'Twinkie', 'Cream Poof', or anything with a fruit reference. I got enough of that at school."

"You were teased for being gay back then? Did you have boyfriends?" John couldn't help but ask, trying to imagine Sherlock as a teenager.

Sherlock scoffed. "No, nothing too obvious. I was a little anti-social, preferring books over sports, therefore 'gay' in their eyes."

"Well, I'm gay as well, so I'm hardly going to call you a derogatory slur." John said.

That stopped Sherlock in his tracks. "That's the first time I've heard you call yourself 'gay'. I would have thought you would use 'bi' instead."

"You got me thinking about things, and I did a lot of research. Talked to my therapist and some friends." John had tried to keep an open mind, by reading lots, giving it time to sink in, before reading more. Watching lots of videos of men telling their 'coming out' stories, and their journey on how they figured out what felt right. Facing up to who they truly were.

Sherlock took John's hand, swinging it a little as they continued on. "You really have been looking into this. I'm impressed."

Giving a shrug, John glanced his way. "I'm still figuring it all out, but I'm thinking the reasons all my relationships with women didn't last was because I'm not really meant to be with one. There's so many labels out there. Perhaps I'm sexually attracted to both men and women, but romantically, more inclined towards men."

They walked on, still holding hands. John had long ago stopped trying to label the relationship with Sherlock. Things changed too much, and he was just happy to accept the man as he was. He didn't fit into categories neatly, being such a unique man. John just took things one day at a time, with no real expectations.

"So, what is the great new nickname, then?" Sherlock gave his hand a squeeze, pulling him out of his thoughts.

John grinned. "Altoid."

Letting out a bark of laughter, Sherlock shot him a playful glare. "Those awful chalky mint tablet things? How flattering."

"You fit their slogan, 'Dangerously Spicy'." He felt quite proud of coming up with it.

Sherlock shook his head. "I'm no expert in popular culture, but even I know that their slogan is 'Curiously Strong'. That makes me sound like a circus freak or something."

"Oh shit, you're right. I still think the name suits you though. They are a lot to take, and aren't to everyone's taste, but I really like them." John argued, unwilling to give up on his idea.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Sheesh...that's so corny. How about 'Brighton Rock' instead, because it's so long and hard? And you want to suck it for hours?"

They argued about nicknames all the way back to the house.

...

"Thanks again for coming out for the holidays. I had a great time." Sherlock said, setting John's duffle bag on floor. He had insisted on walking him to the door of his bedsit.

Looking around the room with a sigh, it looked even smaller than before to John. "Thank you for getting me out of London. It was educational."

"Educational." Sherlock scoffed. "So, um, see you next month?" He seemed in no hurry to leave, despite spending a whole week with John.

"No, I don't want to wait weeks before I see you again. See you next week. How about Wednesday? I'll cook." John said, not wanting the man to go.

Nodding, Sherlock gathered John into his arms. "Sounds good." He leaned in for a long kiss, that John happily returned.

Things heated up, with Sherlock soon kicking the door shut as John tugged him towards the bed. Clothes went flying. They had sex all week, but it was all a little restrained, trying to keep from being too loud. Here, they could just be themselves.

John kissed along Sherlock's jaw, while he reached down to stroke him slowly, loving the deep moan he got in response. Grabbing the lube from the nightstand, he soon had Sherlock ready.

When he reached for a condom, Sherlock stilled his hand. "We can do it without, if you want. I'm always safe, and get tested every six months. And you were tested last month..."

Not bothering to ask how Sherlock knew that, John gathered him close, peppering his face with kisses. "Really? You want to try that?" He had fantasized about it. He hadn't had a serious relationship for years where they had gone without them.

Flushing slightly, Sherlock nodded. "Yeah, so much. I want to feel you, no barriers. Just you and me..."

Nodding, John's hand shook a little as he lubed himself up. Shifting into place, he held Sherlock's eyes as he slowly thrust into him, both of them trying to sense if it felt different.

"Oh, Sherlock..." John gasped, dropping his head to his shoulder. "You feel so tight and hot around me. So good." Already, he was moving slowly, not wanting this to be over too fast.

Looking already close to the edge, Sherlock shifted under John, his breath catching. "Yes, John...right there..."

During this last week, John had learned what Sherlock liked, and he pulled out. When Sherlock glared at him, he simply chuckled. "Turn over, I want to try something."

Huffing, Sherlock rolled on to his knees, his legs spread to give John space behind him, his head down against the bed.

John pushed slowly back in, doing a few full thrusts. Then, he pulled back so only a few inches were inside Sherlock, and started doing small circular motions. He knew when he found the right place when Sherlock gasped, jerking against him.

Closing his eyes, John pressed down firmly, rubbing the head of his cock over and around Sherlock's prostate. His most sensitive spot right against Sherlock's. Nothing but lube between them. Circles and small strokes, right there.

Gasping, Sherlock started stroking his own cock, the lube making a wet sound as his hand moved fast. "John, John, John...just like that..."

It was something they both liked normally, but without a condom was even more intense. John loved hearing Sherlock's reactions, moaning and panting himself.

When Sherlock started to cum, John pushed deep, staying there, feeling the way he squeezed him, every second of his orgasm. He pulled out slowly, and rolled Sherlock over, loving seeing his face still flushed, his chest heaving.

Cuddling against his side, John pressed his cock against Sherlock's hip as he leaned in for a kiss.

"You didn't...?" Sherlock asked, pushing against John.

Shaking his head, John gave him a slow smile. "Not yet."

Lifting Sherlock's hand to his mouth, he licked off the cum, taking his time, enjoying it. He got a warm, wet facecloth, and cleaned them both up. Sherlock chuckled when John settled between his legs, kissing his stomach.

Kissing downwards, John loved Sherlock like this. Completely relaxed from his orgasm, letting John touch him anywhere. His cock was soft, fitting easily into his mouth, resting against his tongue. John licked and sucked gently, as he stroked over his balls. Moving fingers into Sherlock, John always felt aroused at feeling him after being fucked, warm and a little looser. His prostate sensitive when he brushed over it. John kept playing, his mouth moving down to kiss and suck his balls, Sherlock's hand stroking through his hair lazily.

He could tell when things changed, Sherlock's breath catching with a certain brush over his prostate. John took his cock back into his mouth, sucking more intently. He was getting harder, responding to the flicks of John's tongue. He knew just what he liked best.

Sherlock eventually pushed him away. "Enough! Fuck me, now!"

Grinning as he lubed up some more, John crawled over the man. They both groaned when he pushed back in, and this time, Sherlock's long legs were around John, keeping him in place.

John kept a steady pace, wanting Sherlock to cum again. Arching off the bed, Sherlock's thrusts matched his, twisting for the best sensations. John came first, pushing deep with a groan, and Sherlock freezing below him. Filling him up. Sherlock moaned at the sensation, his hand working hard. John took over, looking down as Sherlock panted, his second orgasm still powerful, leaving him limp.

...

Hours later, John staggered out of the bed, coming back with two bottles of cold water and taking a long sip from his own. He cuddled along Sherlock's side, chuckling when he saw it was after midnight. "We fucked our way into the new year."

"The best way to celebrate it, in my humble opinion." Sherlock grinned, stealing a quick kiss.

John's lips quirked into a grin as a thought hit him. "So, does that count as the December ambush or January's?"

Sherlock scoffed, shifting his pillows behind his head. "There are two errors in that question. One, we had sex at least a dozen times in December, so that ambush was thoroughly satisfied. And there is no January ambush officially. Your subscription has expired."

Despite everything that had happened in the last week, John felt a pang of pure dread zip through him. He pulled back, his eyes searching Sherlock's face, trying to read it, but he seemed perfectly calm.

"Um, yes, I guess that's right." John swallowed hard, knowing he had to ask, even though hearing the answer could crush him. "And...do you have another man, another client, for this year?"

Sherlock gave a slow grin, clearly reading the emotions on John's face. He laid his hand on his shoulder. "No, I'm not working there anymore. I was under the impression that my boyfriend wouldn't like me fucking other men."

Relief swept through John, and he hugged Sherlock tight. "No, he wouldn't like that at all." He pushed his hands into Sherlock's hair, giving him some long, ardent kisses, before working his way down his neck. Making Sherlock jump a little with a hard bite that was sure to leave a mark. John looked at it, rubbing his fingers over it, some deep elemental part of him loved seeing it on his man. He looked up at Sherlock. "Mine."

There was a flash of heat and deeper feelings in Sherlock's eyes, and he nodded. "Yours." He pushed John onto his back, crawling over him and making some marks of his own.

They didn't fall asleep until the wee hours of the morning.

...

A pounding on the door was what eventually roused them. John glanced at the clock and groaned. "Fuck, it's after 12." He dragged himself out of the bed and yanked on his bathrobe, going to his desk to root around for his cheque book.

He looked back at Sherlock, appearing deliciously rumpled in his bed. "It's just my landlady, looking for January's rent. Normally I'd pay her before the 1st but somebody kidnapped me for a week."

He went to the door, apologizing to the older woman standing there. "Sorry, I'll write you a cheque right away." He waved the cheque book at her. "Back in a second."

Not wanting her to see more of his private life than necessary, John closed the door to leave her in the hallway. Normally, he would have let her in, but the sight of Sherlock looking like he did was for his eyes only. He grinned to himself at this unexpected possessive streak around his boyfriend, as he went to his desk to write up the cheque.

He was about to sign it when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Sherlock, standing beside him in just his boxer briefs.

"What if you don't pay the rent?" Sherlock asked.

John's eyebrows shot up at the question. "Well, I'd think it was pretty obvious. She'd kick me out and I'd be homeless."

"Not necessarily homeless..." Sherlock said, and John could see excitement mixed with a bit of fear in his eyes. This was a big thing to ask. To share his home, his life. A big thing between them.

Could he do it? John's heart thumped as he thought about it. Living in that crazy, messy apartment, sharing a bed with Sherlock, seeing him whenever their schedules allowed, cuddling on the sofa eating take away...

Standing up, he grabbed Sherlock and gave him a deep, long kiss. "Yes, I'd love to live with you, Sherlock, assuming that's what you mean and not that you know of a different place for me."

Reaching down, Sherlock took the cheque and tore it up. "That's exactly what I meant." His smile was the biggest one John had seen yet.

"You realize you'll have to help me move." John shot over his shoulder as he went to the door to tell his former landlady the news.

By the time he was done, Sherlock was already rooting around in his closet, throwing a bunch of his jumpers into a pile on the floor. "Sherlock!"

"I'm just weeding out the things you can get rid of. It will make packing up the rest faster." Sherlock smirked, pulling out some more clothes he eyed with distaste, before dumping them on the pile.

John shook his head. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll get rid of the jumpers you don't like if you get rid of all the chemistry stuff in your kitchen."

That started a long bout of haggling, each standing their ground. By the end, Sherlock picked out the three sweaters he disliked the most for exchange for leaving half the kitchen table empty so John could eat meals there.

It didn't take that long to pack everything up, since it was a furnished apartment and John hadn't had the money or inclination to buy much. As he closed the door to the small bedsit, he silently said goodbye to his old life there, and followed Sherlock down the steps, heading to an exciting new one.

…

-A/N: Thanks to everyone for reading. You have been wonderful & so supportive.

-Absquatulate. "This refers to yourself or someone else leaving suddenly. It can also mean that someone has absconded with something, as well. It is more a form of slang, but it isn't something you hear every day!"

-"Altoids are a brand of breath mints. The brand was created by the London-based Smith & Company in the 1780s, and later became part of the Callard & Bowser company in the 19th century. Their advertising slogan is "The Original Celebrated Curiously Strong Mints", referring to the high concentration of peppermint oil used in the original flavour lozenge." Wiki.

-Brighton rock candy: This is a stick of hard candy, normally 1-2.5 cm (0.39–0.98 in) in diameter and 20–25 cm (7.9–9.8 in) long. These cylinders usually have a pattern embedded throughout the length, which is often the name of the seaside resort (Brighton, Blackpool, etc) where the rock is sold, so that the name can be read on both ends of the stick (reversed at one end) and remains legible even after pieces are bitten off.