A/N: Ok here be the final part of Morass. There will be two companion pieces, Interlude in where John meets Mummy and Crucible where Sherlock officially becomes the good man, and Moriarty returns! Thank you for staying with me on this ride. You have been awesome. LadyGreyTea, CrypticNymph who have stayed with me from the very beginning! To all of you, my lovelies...thank you...and now ...

"I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. During these fits of absolute consciousness, I used drugs - God only knows how often or how much. As a matter of course, my frenemies referred the insanity to the drugs, rather than the drugs to the insanity." Sherlock had looked out the window of the black Jaguar and refused to meet John's eyes, aware and oddly afraid of the revulsion he may be met with.

"There are other ways to get an adrenaline high." John words were soft but even in the back of the car, there was no projected reproach or scorn and Sherlock scowled. It was rare for someone to know him; even rarer for someone to want to know him.

"This is why you confuse me." Sherlock muttered darkly.

"Why? Because I treat you as human? Or because I care enough to try to understand?" John quirked his eye brow up and another piece of the puzzle that was Sherlock locked into place.

"Either, or, both." Sherlock's heavy Balstaff coat did little to mask his discomfit as he shrugged.

"So I never thought you'd be that good with kids." John changed the subject and he could feel the gratitude roll of his companion in waves.

"Most kids are just snotty beasts, but they are a product of their environment, they are not given a chance, and mostly they are just simple little creatures with so much more potential than they are allowed to express."

"Still you seem very comfortable with them."

"I don't bite the heads of kittens either John." Sherlock huffed further down in his coat and scowled.

"No? Wow, you mean really ALL the rumours were lies?" John chuckled.

"Probably not all, you have a great deal of patience with me John. I, uh, appreciate it."

"I have a great deal more impatience for idiots who think it's prudent or wise to try to belittle a woman or someone they don't understand."

"Ah yes, Anderson. Mind you, it wasn't the first time he saw you angry was it?" Sherlock closed his eyes and rubbed his top lip with a long finger.

"No, probably won't be the last. But ten inches? Flattered Sherlock, but not ten inches."

Sherlock dropped his gaze to John's crotch. "No I'd estimate just above eight."

John dropped his head back against the seat of the car and watched lazily as the traffic made them crawl through the streets.

"Have you ever wanted to do the whole domestic thing John?"

"Married with two point five kids, house in the country, Jag in the drive?" John smiled but it was strained before he relaxed, he knew that Sherlock was studying him, as one may study an unknown substance under a microscope. He had also learned not to flinch from the gaze. He drew in a deep breath when he realised that Sherlock wasn't going to break the impasse and he closed his eyes again. "I was married once Sherlock, and had all those dreams, and more, but you know, reality isn't nearly as gentle. It was summer, 1996 and we were in Manchester visiting Em's mum. I had graduated in the top ten percent. Life was good, very good in fact Em was pregnant and just like any normal couple we were blissfully ignorant of life outside our bubble."

Sherlock felt the bile rise, he knew, in his gut he knew. "IRA bomb."

"Yeah the ceasefire was official a couple of weeks later, too late for us of course, and all of a sudden bloody Sin Fienn and Gerry Adams were hero's. She died in my arms of massive trauma."

Sherlock was stunned into silence, he knew so much, but never knew this about John, he could have found out for sure, but he never bothered, he just took the man and his gentle gift of love as the miracle he had prayed for for so long.

"You joined the army not long after."

"Yeah, I couldn't stay and see the shattered looks on their faces, or the totally irrational guilt I had, so I channelled the anger into something else and joined the army. By the time I was shot, I was ready to pack it in, asked to redeploy to a hospital." John shrugged again. "It, was a long time ago."

"Some things you never forget."

"I don't regret it Sherlock, I've seen too many horrible things to regret the good ones. I still love them; still think about them from time to time. And before you say it, I will not regret this." He reached over and twined Sherlock's gloved hand with his own. "Now before I have to go back to the Yard and begin pulling Geoff's nails out, will you tell me what happened?"

"You know what happened." Sherlock hedged.

"The mechanics yes, but not the emotion. Tell me what you were feeling Sherlock. Let me help you understand." John's eyes blazed at his companion who was weary beyond all belief.

"It was fear John, just fear. Lestrade was, um, he was good. He took care of me and it wasn't personal, he didn't mean it."

"Mmm." John folded his arms across his chest.

"You're angry."

"Good, good deduction." He said with a tiny scornful sneer.

"Why? Oh I've upset you, again." Sherlock stuck his abandoned hand into his coat pocket. "Sometimes I can still feel their hands on me." The voice was soft.

"Ah." John uncrossed his arms and turned to face his friend. "You don't like to be touched, and they stole from you."

"No, that's not true. I do like to be touched; only I never, well almost never, well not until you, was I touched by someone who cared about me who didn't have to. And they did steal from me John; they stole my ability to defend myself. They took parts of me away and never gave them back, and I was lost. I don't even damn well know if I can be alone anymore. Me, John, I'm fucking Sherlock Holmes the world's only consulting detective for Christ's sake and I don't know if I can even manage to be by myself anymore. I have become dependent!" his voice had risen with all the anger and frustration and ire to end on the smallest of sounds, a choked word that sounded so much like a sob John almost wept.

"Ah love," Sherlock stopped the tirade just as the car pulled smoothly into the driveway, "you've been dependent on me for a while, and you just didn't want to admit it."

"I know. I need." Sherlock looked for the entire world like a man ready to head to the gallows. "I need to know I can be by myself."

"Do you want me to move out?" John asked softly.

Sherlock grabbed him by the hands. "No, no, no. That's not it, but I have to regain my independence John, I have to know I'm still me."

The doctor slid across the seat and placed a gentle kiss against the younger man's mouth that was tenderly received. "I'll wait."

"I do love you; I am in fact, in love with you." Sherlock announced.

"Yeah, I know. Come on, Mycroft will begin to worry."

~~~)))(((~~~

"Unfortunately your hypothesis has merit." Mycroft intoned as Sherlock swept into the study on his own. John had headed down to the clinic to deal with a few minor household issues.

"After all these years you still manage to doubt me." Sherlock sat down and put his feet up on the chair, he almost hissed as the pressure was relieved.

"You have a vast intellect Midge, cool and calculating, with no error for judgement, only rational explanations. Sometimes, how you draw your conclusions is almost beyond even my understanding."

"Which makes them, until proved correct a little farfetched, I didn't realise your brain was becoming so pedestrian."

Mycroft raised his eyebrow and tilted his head to one side. "Cheeky."

"Often." Sherlock grinned. "What's happening with the wife?"

"Ah, well I've made her an offer; she has refused it, so I may have to resort to more, persuasive methods to get her to comply."

"Divorce?"

"Messy, but necessary, even Mummy thinks so."

"Quiet right." Sherlock nodded. "Speaking of Mummy."

"Ah yes, she will arrive on Saturday, would you like to pick her up with me from the airport?"

"Can John come to?"

"Absolutely." Mycroft nodded his approval. "Our people in Korea have found the Plutonium and have managed to impede its journey. And the diamonds that have been floated are now under investigation. You did well Midge."

"And again with the Midge." Sherlock huffed as he rubbed his stomach lightly.

"Did you eat?"

"Yes I ate, will you stop being considerate it's disturbing."

"I resent that, I'm always considerate, you just don't recognise it."

"I see a lot more than you realise."

"This is why you would be invaluable to me, if you were to be less aggressive, and more open to working on a consultancy basis for the agencies."

"I'll look at it alright? If I think it's demeaning or I'm too busy then I won't, see we can be on the same side."

Mycroft laughed, "yes we can unfortunately the side is usually yours."

"Problem?"

"Not really. I've spoken to Mrs Hudson, lovely woman. Your rent is paid and John has arranged for the cleaners to make the flat presentable, you wouldn't want Mummy to see the head in the fridge would you?"

"You threw out my head?" Sherlock glowered.

"Honestly Sherlock, this truce is fragile at best, do you think I would antagonise you unnecessarily?"

Sherlock huffed. "As I was saying, I've arranged for a few other items to be installed, another fridge for your body parts, another microwave that type of thing. The kitchen is fully stocked, and I've taken the liberty of updating your bedroom furniture."

"Because?"

"Logic, your room is the larger so it now has a king bed, and John's a double. Wherever you decide to rest, there will be room."

"Thank you."

"Welcome, I won't be in for dinner I have an appointment."

~~~)))(((~~~~

Sally Donovan filed the last of the reports from her desk and caught up with Lestrade in his office.

"Press conference tomorrow Boss at eleven, wear a suit and tie, and then you need to speak to the PM's office in regards to security."

"Good. Anything else?"

"I'm sorry Sir, about Sherlock and John. I was wrong and I've told Sherlock that as well."

"You did?" Lestrade put the pen down and scrutinised her. "Why?"

"Because it's not necessary, and he is wrong, he is different and I don't trust that one day he will get bored, at least I didn't trust it, but he's got John now."

"Sherlock Holmes is a great man, one we need."

"I know. Mike is jealous."

"He going to be any problem for you Sally?"

"I don't think so Sir."

"Alright go home." After sixteen hours in a squad room, she didn't need to be told twice. Unaware of the heated gaze of her former lover. Anderson would no so easily be discarded as he followed her out of the building.

~~~)))(((~~~

It was late and still Sherlock fidgeted, he'd watched Dr Who of all things until his head nearly bled, and then a late night talk show and still he couldn't go to bed. The embargo started tonight, he wanted, needed to know he could go one night on his own without having to give in and go to John.

So far he was extraordinarily pleased with himself. He looked at the laptop again and clicked away in random arcs and felt a warm hand on his arm. The laptop hit the ground and he spun the Jack knife in his hand.

John reached down and took the knife from him. "No sharp things Sherlock."

"I wasn't going to use it on myself." Sherlock protested a little too quickly as John pulled him to his feet and walked him slowly to the bedroom. Holmes's heart sank when he realised it was his room, but here John stopped, and removed the robe from his thin shoulders, pulled the cotton T-shirt away from the waist band of his pyjamas and pushed his into the bed.

Mesmerised he watched as John slid out of his robe to leave him stark naked and climbed in beside the younger man.

"See I couldn't get to sleep either, because I've grown quiet fond of your body next to mine. Since I came to get you..." John let the sentence trail as Sherlock beamed up at him. "And since you love me, and are in fact in love with me, I thought it might be time to do something about it."

John kissed him on the mouth softly and then swabbed his tongue across the plump lips. Sherlock moaned low in his throat as the soft scratch of Johns chin rasped down his throat to his chest. Strong hands petted him with great care, he touched work roughened fingers to sharp smooth collar bones, lips to the pulse point and beyond.

Compliant no longer Sherlock's hands danced across the broad back, down to the trim hips and muscular thighs. His hands fondled underneath to the thick cock that sprang from golden curls and gently cupped the pendulous balls. John leaned up on his hands, and looked down the length of his body as he felt the long fingers stroke and tease him and he bit his lip.

Holy Mary, the man was sex on a plate, Sherlock's pale skin and strange eyes watched him with a conviction that would have humbled a lesser man. Dark curls spread against the soft white pillow, a flush that stained the lovely pale skin and the obscene little mewls that echoed in that rich masculine baritone, and John had to push away from the fallen debauched angel on the bed. His body and Sherlock both protested at the loss.

"I want you." John said simply.

Sherlock sat up and captured the Doctor in his arms again, his lips and hands never idle as the warmth spread on both sets of skin. "Nice change." Sherlock muttered against the underside of John's neck.

"What?"

"Never been told that before."

John sat back on his heels as he worked the pyjama bottoms from Sherlock's hips. "You're kidding right?"

"No, usually I get told to turn over so they can fuck me." Sherlock attached his lips to John's neck and licked. Clever fingers worked across his chest and followed the little line of hair that travelled like an arrow down to his groin.

John put both hands on the sides of Sherlock's head and pushed him back a little way to look directly into the eyes of the man he loved.

"Not this time." John climbed off him and for a moment Sherlock thought he had offended the doctor and then John smiled as his hand coated his erection with lube that smelt of chocolate and cinnamon, he kept the movement slow and languorous as he spread his knees and beckoned to the younger man. "Turn around." John whispered in a voice like raw silk, it scraped every nerve in Sherlock's body with acid fire as it burned through him and he complied but instead of being allowed to lie down he was pulled back into a crouch as John rocked his hips forward and brushed his entrance. Sherlock shuddered and grabbed fists of the sheet as John gently and lovingly prepared him. Firm strokes across his buttocks and up to the small of his back, the tiny waist that he reached his arm around and pulled him back flush against his body.

Sherlock grunted as he felt himself impaled and the fire was back, it licked its way up his spine and into his heart and then John stopped moving, he was held by the strong arm around his waist and the other that was tangled in the thick curls at the back of his head.

"Look down." John instructed as he used the handful of hair to turn the other man's head to the side and rasped his tongue up the long arc of neck. "Spread your knees love." And Sherlock complied as John rocked him in the intimate embrace.

Sherlock tilted his head to one side and looked down his body. Too pale, too ugly and then he heard Johns voice, the tone like warm honey as he filled the crevices in his heart, the ache in his soul as he was pierced sweetly to the core. His own hands flexed on his thighs as Johns hand skimmed up to his nipples and back down across the well defined belly of his lover.

Sherlock arched his back almost bent into a bow as he was rocked, the sweat slicked their bodies as he looked over his shoulder and saw John's eyes on his body, consuming him in a passion he never thought he was capable of.

Their breath became ragged as John pumped his hips forward and angled in towards the pleasure gland and Sherlock gasped. His hands reached behind him and long fingers wrapped in to the soft silken texture of Johns waist and his tempo changed and they both pumped in unison to a rhythm older than time itself.

Sherlock's heart swelled as John grasped his aching cock and began to twist and tug gently, the friction of being so full, of being so loved was more than he could stand and in moments he flung his head back to collide with the solid shoulder behind him, his hands dug painfully into Johns body as he came in endless ribbons across the calloused hand.

John's own climax shattered him, but he held them firm and slowed the frantic race down to small involuntary jerks of his hips as he lifted his hand to his lips and licked Sherlock's seed from his own hands.

Tears streaked Sherlock's face, of relief, of love, of utter joy. He would never remember how John got him into bed, or the blanket up around both of them, or why the next day he didn't wake to the feel of stale sex, instead of feeling used and abused, he woke to love, and to tawny eyes that regarded him steadily.

His only answer was to drown in the lips again as he snuggled into John's chest.

"I forgot to tell you yesterday." Sherlock mumbled.

"Mmmm." John ran his hands over the wide shoulders of his mate.

"We are picking up Mummy on Saturday." Sherlock beamed.

John went cold, he held Sherlock to his naked torso tighter.

"Really John. You stare down a man with a gun, you invaded Afghanistan, you knocked Anderson on his arse yesterday, and that was one of THE most erotic things I've ever seen, and you're afraid of meeting my mother."

"I'm, ah, I'm not afraid love."

"No, of course not." Sherlock said with a smug grin. "You my darling Doctor are absolutely terrified."

"Oh God. I'm screwed." John said in answer to Sherlock's filthy chuckle.