Sherlock and John crashed through the door of 221B, hands everywhere and lips joined as they yanked each other towards the bedroom. Sherlock kicked the door closed and then started walking John backwards through the kitchen. "Are we in trouble because I didn't carry you over the threshold?" he asked as he tilted his head to the side to give John better access to his neck. Both had managed to kick their shoes off without stopping to untie their laces.

"Hey, why am I the bride?" John asked indignantly, giving Sherlock's throat a nip.

"You're the one wearing white." Sherlock pointed out.

"Only because you looked rubbish in white with your pale skin. Completely washed you out." John argued, pushing Sherlock through the bedroom door.

"It does look nice with your tan." Sherlock said appraisingly as he captured John's lips again.

John eased onto the bed and inched backwards as Sherlock crawled forward with him. John captured Sherlock's tie in his hands and pulled him forward with it "I can't believe you actually wore a tie for me." He reached the knot and started to loosen it. "Although I did miss you having your shirt unbuttoned, showing off that neck and chest of yours, just begging for lips to be pressed to it."

"Hmm." Sherlock agreed as John slipped the tie off from around his neck. "That's why I never wear them."

"Really?" John quirked an eyebrow. "It has nothing to do with you finding them constricting and annoying?"

"Well that too." Sherlock gripped John by the shoulders and gently eased him down against the pillows. John's legs were spread, knees bent up with Sherlock lying between them. John twisted his fingers up in Sherlock's curls and brought his face down for more kissing.

"It was nice of the criminal classes to take the day off." John said, slipping Sherlock's black suit jacket off his shoulders. Sherlock sat back on his haunches so John could sit up and remove his own tux jacket.

"Let's hope they allow us the same courtesy for the next two weeks."

John stopped midway through unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt. "Two weeks?"

"Oh, right, surprise!" Sherlock said cheerfully. "Wedding gift from Mycroft."

"Blimey, two weeks in Italy, doing nothing but shagging and sightseeing? You'll be bored within three days." John smirked and finished unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

"Oh I'm sure you'll find interesting ways to keep me entertained."

"I hope you know Italian because I am rubbish."

"Si, mi parlo italiano bene."

"Oh god." John groaned, insanely turned on by hearing Sherlock speak Italian in that voice, especially when it was deep with arousal. He yanked Sherlock's shirt out of his trousers and pulled it off, running his hands down Sherlock's now bare chest. "At least we'll be able to navigate the two weeks in Italy just fine."

"Yes, although I'm afraid it's just the one week in Italy." Sherlock confessed making quick work of the buttons on John's black vest and then doing the same to his black shirt underneath. "Second week Mycroft booked us a hotel in Paris."

"Jesus. He's being awfully generous."

"Yes well, I suppose he's just relieved that this finally happened. He wanted to be sure I got married while mother was still alive."

"Your mother seems fine." John frowned, concern evident on his face.

"Oh you know Mycroft, he worries." Sherlock waved it off, lifting up one of John's legs under the knee and slipping off his dress sock.

"And I suppose you know French as well." John assumed.

"Oui." Sherlock nodded, scooting closer to press his lips against John's, lifting his other leg to remove the other sock.

"Yoohoo." Mrs. Hudson called from sitting room. Sherlock and John both froze, wide-eyed and waited, both secretly praying Mrs. Hudson wouldn't come in. Except they'd left the door wide open so nothing was stopping her. "Sherlock? John? Are you here?"

John winced and waited for the inevitable as Mrs. Hudson's footsteps got closer. "Fuck." He swore under his breath as she appeared in the doorway.

"Oh my." She said, taking in the scene before her. "I'm so sorry to interrupt but there's a bunch of packages arriving, I think they're from well wishers and fans and the like. There's quite a lot of them and I just wondered what you wanted me to do with them."

"Throw them out." Sherlock said dismissively.

"Sherlock!" John scolded.

"Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said calmly as he got off the bed. "You are free to go through the gifts and take anything you want. We will leave it to your judgment to decide if there is anything that we might need and everything else you can do with as you wish. But right now I really need to fuck my husband, I'm sure you understand."

Sherlock closed the door in her face and locked it, striding back over to the bed. "There is never a cause for rudeness young man but under the current circumstances I will forgive it." Mrs. Hudson called through the door before walking away.

"I am your husband, aren't I?" John mused, a grin playing on his lips. "I suppose it hasn't really hit me yet. But you're my husband."
"I like the sound of that." Sherlock climbed back onto the bed and sat straddling John's thighs. "Say it again."

"My husband." John said, running his hands over Sherlock's chest.

"Yes." Sherlock leaned forward and John met him halfway, their lips crashing together. "Again." He requested.

"My husband." John murmured against Sherlock's lips.

They removed the remainder of their clothes quickly, their hands frantic to divest each other quickly. They didn't waste much time with foreplay since they'd have two weeks to take their time shagging. Right then they were just desperate to be close.

Sherlock did, however, take the time to work John open while simultaneously sucking him off. He had John's legs thrown over his shoulders as he slipped three fingers inside him. John arched up off the bed, pushing himself deeper into Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock's head bobbed between John's legs, his fingers keeping time as he stretched John open.

"Oh God, I'm good. Come on, come on." John tugged on Sherlock's hair, trying to get him off. He grabbed the lube off the bed and poured some on his fingers, rubbing his hands together to warm it up before reaching down and stroking Sherlock's prick, coating it. He spread his legs as wide as they would go in an offering. "There, now hurry."

Sherlock surged forward and devoured John's lips in a kiss while he gently pushed inside. He pulled back and pushed in again, going further. He did it over and over until there was nowhere left to go. "Oh Christ." John groaned. Sherlock stilled, enjoying the feeling of being buried deep inside John.

"Come on, move you bastard." John growled, reaching down and grabbing Sherlock's arse, encouraging him to start moving.

"Is that any way to talk to your spouse?" Sherlock chastised, pulling out so just the head remained in and then shoving back in with one smooth thrust.

"Lift up my leg." John pleaded and Sherlock crooked his arm under John's knee and brought his leg up towards his chest, his other leg wrapped around Sherlock. He thrust in again and John gasped, clutching at the sheets. "Oh God, that's it. Do it again."

Sherlock obliged, grabbing the headboard for leverage as he slammed back in. "Fuck, Sherlock. More. Harder. Come on."

Sherlock quickened his pace, watching John unravel underneath him as each thrust hit him perfectly. John's hand shot up and clawed at Sherlock's back as a stream of curses spewed from John's lips. John's cock was trapped between them, smacking against his stomach wetly.

"Oh god John, touch yourself I'm close." Sherlock moaned, wanting them to come off at the same time. John dropped his hand down and curled it around his weeping cock, stroking himself in time to Sherlock's thrusts.

"Fuck Sherlock, I'm there, I'm there." John cried out as his vision went white and sparks of pleasure coursed through him. His release spilled onto his hand and stomach. He vaguely heard Sherlock call out his name as his hips stuttered and he emptied himself inside his husband.

John was brought back to himself by the feeling of Sherlock's lips on his. He slowly came out of his blissful state and started kissing him back. "If that's a preview of what this marriage is going to be like, I think we're going to be just fine." John chuckled, still somewhat out of breath.

Sherlock pulled out and grabbed some tissues to clean them up with. The two of them arranged themselves on the bed so they were face to face, arms wrapped around each other, legs entwined. "God, today actually happened. We're really married."

"Yes, you're my husband now John Watson-Holmes." Sherlock kissed him softly.

John chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "Did you mean what you put on that list about wanting a family?"

"Hm." Sherlock took a moment to contemplate it. "We've never really discussed it and I never exactly pictured myself with children but for some reason with you the idea seems less…alarming."

"So you would potentially want children?"

"I think so." Sherlock nodded. "We could always adopt or perhaps Molly will be our surrogate. I doubt she'll be needing her uterus any time soon."

"Sherlock, we are not asking Molly Hooper to lend us her uterus!" John shouted, rolling his eyes at the uncouthness of his spouse.

"You're right, her social awkwardness might rub off on the child and we wouldn't want that."

"As opposed to you, the social butterfly." John joked, shaking his head.

"I managed to charm you, didn't I?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Yes but that's only because I am very, very patient and you are extremely good in bed."

'Ah." Sherlock smiled. "I'd often wondered."

"Why don't we worry about getting through the honeymoon without killing each other and then we can start to discuss bringing a baby into the mix." John reasoned, stroking the hair at the nape of Sherlock's neck.

"Excellent plan Doctor Watson-Holmes."

"You really like saying our hyphenated names, don't you?" John said with an amused grin.

"Yes." Sherlock admitted freely. "It reminds me that we're joined for the rest of our lives. I'm afraid you're stuck with me now."

"I wouldn't want it any other way, Mr. Watson-Holmes."

"No regrets?"

"None at all."