A/N: So here is the last chapter – I tried really hard to write hot, steamy man sex but it really didn't suit the whole tone of this piece. The story was more about the misunderstandings and the confusion as well as the awkward moments and the sweetness of the original story. So here I have given you awkward first sex, with lots of giggling and mess, just like it usually is in real life:D

Thanks once again to mattsloved1 for reading this over for me:)

9. The Sex Holiday

performed by W. Sherlock S. Holmes and Dr. John H. Watson

John stood on the balcony of the Presidential Suite at The St. Regis Hotel overlooking the Arno River. Florence at sunset was magnificent. The light played upon the water, the beautiful buildings graced the streets, and he could hear the sounds of traffic and pedestrians.

"Sherlock, you have got to see this view. The architecture, the bridges!"

"I'd rather you came here and saw my view," Sherlock all but purred from the king sized bed. John's head turned, like a whippet scenting a rabbit.

He came in off of the balcony and found him lounging on the bed. His clothes were still on, but he'd kicked off his shoes. Lying on his side, Sherlock swept an arm over the space beside him and then patted the duvet.

"Come here," he commanded.

John toed off his shoes and took a running leap onto the bed.

"Why hello, Mr. Watson-Holmes." Leaning in, he traced Sherlock's nose with his own, smiling at him.

"Hello yourself, Dr. Watson-Holmes." Sherlock moved his free arm so he could lay his hand on John's hip. He rubbed his hand up and down, pausing now and then at the top of John's trousers. When he reached the waistband, he would let his fingers dip under, pulling John's shirt out from where it had been tucked in, brushing against bare skin. John, meanwhile, was stroking Sherlock's ample posterior.

"You are certainly more gorgeous, more lovely than any of the artwork in Florence."

"Even the David?" Sherlock smirked.

Earlier in the day, after they had checked in, they had gone to visit the famous statue at The Accademia di Belle Arti di Firenze. Reasonably confident that they wouldn't see much of Florence over the next couple of days, John had made them see it first, just in case they never left the hotel. He had always wanted to see the magnificent piece and had been awestruck by its beauty and the sheer size of it. It had impressed him in other ways as well, and he had hustled Sherlock back to their suite soon after.

The room they were in was impressive as well. It was spacious, opulent and besides the view, there was a huge soaker tub and butler service. It was in walking distance of the aforementioned Accademia, and also the Uffitzi Gallery and the Ponte Vecchio Bridge. John had no idea how much this was costing, but he didn't care. All of those details had been left in Anthea's capable hands.

Moving his hand, he cupped Sherlock's face and leaned into him, kissing him. At first, it was a simple pressing of mouths, but John began moving his lips and letting his tongue flick out to trace the edge of Sherlock's lower lip. That lip had been driving him mad all day as it waited to be tasted and plundered. Sherlock groaned and rocked into John's hips.

Reaching between them, John began to unbutton the tight jeans Sherlock was wearing. Pulling down the zip, he reached in and looked up from his prize, his eyes twinkling and a grin on his face. "You're not wearing any pants."

Sherlock looked incredibly smug. "I thought you'd never notice."

"Hmm, that could cause problems with your circulation. We should remove them quite quickly."

"You're a doctor, and I always listen to my doctor."

"I'll have to remember that next time I need you to clean up hazardous items in the kitchen," he murmured as he moved his hand into Sherlock's jeans and then "Aha! That's what I was looking for."

Sherlock made a particularly delightful sound as he moved to get as close to John's hand as possibly. John obliged him by grasping the object of his desire.

Trying to undo the buttons on John's shirt, Sherlock was not having much luck with only having one free hand, the cramped position he was in and the delightful torture John created stroking him at unexpected moments.

"Off!" he said. "Off, off, off!" He pushed John out of the way and kneeled on the bed. With shaking hands, he unbuttoned his own shirt as quickly as he could and threw it onto the floor. He then fell back to wiggle out of his jeans and they went in the other direction. His socks flew through the air and landed on a lamp. John sat there, an amused expression on his face.

"Why are you still dressed? Strip," said Sherlock.

John lifted his hands to finish removing his clothes but apparently he wasn't fast enough for Sherlock and Sherlock batted them away. Faster than he had taken off his own clothes, he soon had John naked.

"At last!" cried Sherlock and he fell on John, kissing him deeply. Sliding his tongue between John's lips, he mumbled endearments that couldn't quite be understood.

"What did you say?" John gasped.

"I said, I love you, I want you. You are making me mad with desire. I want to take you apart and hear you scream."

"Oh. Okay then. Carry on."

Sherlock kissed the side of John's neck, kissed down his chest, paused at his nipples and began to suck on the left one while he tweaked and played with the right. He removed his mouth and blew gently on the wet, glistening nipple. John bucked his hips up into Sherlock's.

"Hmmm, most responsive. Let's see what happens when I switch sides." John's other nipple was given the same lavish attention. "I will definitely need to repeat this experiment in the future, many, many times, to get an accurate idea of what makes you tick. But for now…" The kissing continued until he got to John's belly button. He spent several minutes tonguing his navel and getting an even more interesting response from John.

"Oh God, please!"

"Mmm, what was that?" Kiss, kiss, kiss.

"Please!"

"Please, what?" Kiss, lick, slurp.

"Please fuck me!"

"Very well. If I must." Sherlock left the bed, trotted over to his suitcase and came back with a small tube and several, small, square, foil packages.

Grinning down at John, he tore open one of the packages and then handed it to John. John smiled back and, giving Sherlock's cock a few slow strokes, proceeded to cover it with the condom. Sucking in his breath, Sherlock watched John, his pulse beating rapidly and small whimpering sounds coming from his throat.

Sherlock flipped John over onto his front. John stuck his bottom up in the air, and Sherlock placed a kiss on each cheek before opening the lube and giving it a squeeze. He must have pressed a little too hard, as some went flying through the air and landed on John's back.

"Oh God, that's cold!"

"Sorry. You'll soon warm up!"

Sherlock wrapped his fingers around John's cock and stroked it. With his lubed fingers, he started to press against his anus a little at a time. John inhaled sharply.

"You know you could warm that up! I believe I mentioned it was cold!"

"Sorry!" He poured some more into his hands and blew on it a bit. "Blast, I am dripping all over the bed!"

"Let's shift over a bit, Out of the wet spot."

Sherlock snorted a bit and tried again. "Better?"

"Yes, thanks."

"At this rate, we're never going to get there. "

John giggled. "It's always awkward when you start out with someone new. I'm surprised we haven't given each other black eyes with all your long limbs and bony knees and elbows."

"Romantic words, John," he grumbled.

John looked over his shoulder a bit and saw Sherlock was scowling.

"Hey, no, look, it's okay. Not everything goes smoothly, particularly sex when you first start out. We will get this and the more we do it, the better we'll get. Like a, like a well-oiled machine."

"A well-oiled machine?" Sherlock's eyebrows went up, and there was a tentative smile back on his face.

"Come here, you." Sitting up and turning around, his legs out on either side of Sherlock, John pulled him into his arms and kissed him. It wasn't long until their kisses picked up the hot and heavy pace of earlier.

John carefully removed the condom off of Sherlock and whispered. "Come on love, let's just get each other off for now. We'll have plenty of time later for fancier stuff."

"You did say we'd need lots of practice?"

"Oh yes. Lots and lots." Each word was punctuated by a kiss. John grasped Sherlock again and stroked him, twisting a bit on the upward stroke. Soon Sherlock was shuddering in his arms. He slumped forward, riding out the aftershocks leaning into John. With each shudder, he made a funny little hiccup sound. John didn't dare laugh.

Once he regained some composure, Sherlock looked at John, gave him a tired kiss and then reciprocated the favour. John was still pretty keyed up, and it didn't take nearly as long as John would have liked before he joined Sherlock in a slumped position. After cleaning themselves up with some tissue and the promise of a shower later, they fell back on the bed. John snagged the duvet and pulled it up over them. Sherlock snuggled in and laid his head on John's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"We have two whole weeks to learn each other and explore all sorts of possibilities."

"Two whole weeks," Sherlock smiled into his chest and then kissed him a bit. "And after that, the rest of our lives."

"I wonder how Mycroft and Greg are fairing."

"John! You do not just mention my brother on our sex holiday."

"He's my brother now, too and yes. It was smart of Anthea to arrange our weddings, so they were together and then send us to Florence and Greg and Mycroft to Paris. Keep everyone out of her hair for a bit. She proved herself while Mycroft recovered, so it's nice she knows the ropes…"

"John."

'Yes?"

"You need to shut up now."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will have to kiss you until you do."

"Deal!"

Meanwhile in London, Anthea let herself into the office of Mycroft Holmes. Although it was getting late, she had come back to finish up on some paperwork that needed seeing to. Sat at the desk, she picked up a folder lying off to one side. Just as she was about to start reading through, the intercom buzzed. She picked up the phone and spoke to the secretary who manned the desk during the evening hours.

"Yes? Oh good. I've been expecting her. Send her in. Thank you."

'The door opened and in came Martha Hudson. She crossed the floor and sat down across from Anthea.

"Both couples are settled and enjoying a very active honeymoon," Anthea said to Martha. "With any luck they will be so occupied over the next two weeks, appreciating each other's company, they won't even think to check back in to see how things are going in London."

She stood up, crossed over to the bar hidden in a bookcase, pulled down a very expensive decanter of scotch and poured two glasses. Walking back to Martha, she handed one to her and then raised hers.

"To us, Martha."

They touched glasses with a clink.

"To us, Anthea. I must say you have done a marvellous job of arranging this. I only know what I saw, being your eyes and ears at the hospital and such. How did you do it?"

"I knew Mr. Holmes had never got over his love of Detective Inspector Lestrade. So that was just a matter of timing. I had placed surveillance on Dr. Watson when he kept showing up on the same bench, day after day, seemingly spying on Mr. Holmes. Reading his file, I knew at once he wasn't a threat, just lonely. The file also had some interesting tidbits in it about a certain danger kink, and I thought he'd be a good match for Sherlock. They'd each be a balance for the other. The shooting, well that was unfortunate and not planned. I would have arranged something else soon, like, oh I don't know, perhaps I could have had that friend of Dr. Watson's, Mike Stamford, help him find an apartment or something. He actually has met Sherlock and knew him from work at Bart's. Wouldn't have been hard, but as it was, things just came together. I couldn't have done it without you, though. Thank you for making sure Sherlock was in the right place at the right time when he needed to be."

"Oh, that was easy. You just have to tell Sherlock he can't have something, and then he wants it. No trouble. I'm just glad they're all happy. And now you can spend the next two weeks finishing your tidying up of the office and getting it back to order. Much easier to run the government with a woman's touch. Mycroft will never know how much you actually do to keep things operating smoothly, behind the scenes." She raised her glass to Anthea. "And may he never find out."

"To Mycroft."

A/N: If you get a chance look up the St. Regis hotel in Florence. It's pretty spectacular. There is no price listed for the Presidential Suite. The next suite down in price is 15,000 euros. So, if you have to ask for the price for the Presidential Suite, you can't afford it :D Florence is an absolutely beautiful city. If you get a chance go. Always have your passport read. Just in case:)