Oh my god I read this too! It’s called Heart on a String and its so incredibly adorable. To anyone that hasn’t read it, I recommend it highly. Link attached!

I think someone already did but thank you! I’d literally never heard that expression before I was like ‘whoa seriously, I’ve had some weird prompts, but writing a humane person as someone’s beard is a little weird’. Got it a little wrong there ;) haha!

[Hello! Wow, thank you so much. That’s really lovely of you, thank you. Hope you like this, I’m kinda experimenting with new POV’s so I hope this isn’t too shit. I’m still getting the hang of it. Enjoy]

 "Ben", Martin said quietly making Benedict look over at him, "we have to tell them. Today’s the day it should happen. We decided we’d tell everyone at this event months ago so we can’t back out now”. Benedict nodded. Martin was right. It was time to tell their secret.It was the premiere of The Battle of the Five Armies and Martin and Benedict were sitting in a taxi together on the way to the venue. Martin’s hand was on Benedict’s knee trying to stop him from jiggling his leg up and down with nerves. “Martin”, Benedict whispered, lacing his fingers with the ones placed on his knee, “I’m.. worried. What if people don’t like it?”. Martin squeezed his hand, “fuck them. It doesn’t matter about anyone else. It’s just me and you, that’s all that matters”. Benedict smiled slightly, just the corner of his mouth pulling up into a slight smile, “yeah, alright”.The car pulled up and Benedict straightened Martin’s tie, “ready?”. Martin nodded, “ready as I’ll ever be”. They got out of the car together and fans screamed. The cameras flashed in their faces and they smiled and waved. It was going to be okay. As long as they were together everything would be fine. Benedict walked up one side of the red carpet to sign things for fans as well as getting pictures with some of them, all the while keeping his eye on Martin doing the exact same on the opposite side. He felt anxious. The waiting made things worse. He just wanted to shout it out now and be done with it. He just wanted to stop the secrets so they could live their lives out in the open. He just wanted to be with Martin.As Martin walked towards the interviewer, Benedict followed. She was standing in the middle of the red carpet, catching people passing by for a talk and some questions. “Martin! Benedict!”, she said excitedly, “the stars of the show”. Benedict laughed and Martin smirked, nodding his head, “true, we’re both brilliant”. The lady interviewing grinned, “do you mind if we just ask you both a few questions?”. Benedict smiled, “go ahead, but, can I say something first?”.Benedict took the microphone from the interviewer and looked down at Martin staring up at him, eyes wide. “I have something.. very important to say. Me and Martin want everyone to know something.. extremely important,” he stuttered out. Benedict looked down again and Martin nodded, “go on”. Benedict took a deep breath, “when you love someone, you want to spend every passing second with them, every day for the rest of your life with them but, it’s been hard for me to do that, because I’ve been scared about what people will think”. He cleared his throat, clenching his spare hand into a fist. He was shaking. “I’m not scared any more because.. I love them that much. I want to show them off, to everyone. Show everyone that we’re together and we’re happy. I want to say that I love them. I love him. I love you Martin”. It seemed as if the whole of the world erupted. People screamed and cheered and clapped and it sounded as if a fire was burning within Benedict’s ears. He couldn’t hear anything except that adrenalin pumping in his head and throughout his whole body. He looked at Martin, grinning up at him. Tears stung Benedict’s eyes as he took Martin into his arms. “I love you too, you daft sod”, Martin laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. He didn’t see anyone else here except Martin in his arms, his lips against his own. Martin was all that mattered to him and finally, he could show that to the world. They walked off, hand in hand, leaving the interviewer standing there in shock as they went into the screening.

After the screening was finished and they were congratulated over and over again by everyone involved with the film, the cast, the crew and even the cinema workers, they escaped past screaming fans and into the car waiting for them. They sat as close as they could to each other in the car, their thighs pressed together, Benedict’s arm draped over Martin’s shoulders, pulling him close and Martin’s head against his chest. “I can’t believe you said all of that and didn’t let me get a word in edgeways. It’s usually the other way round”, Martin laughed against Benedict’s chest. He grinned, “sorry, I just, wanted it out there. Finally”. Martin looked up at him, grinning, “you said some.. very sweet things”. Benedict just laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of his partners head. 

The car pulled up at Benedict’s flat and they both went in. Martin had gradually brought all his things over, so they practically already shared the place. But now they could move in together properly as everyone knew they were really together. They wouldn’t have to hide. Martin sat down on the sofa and switched on the news. Benedict sat down next to him, letting Martin rest his head on his shoulder. Their faces came up on the TV and they both gasped in unison,

'Actors Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman revealed this evening at the premiere of their new film The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies', that they are in fact in a relationship with one another. Cumberbatch said a loving speech in front of the crowds on the red carpet before pronouncing his love for the Sherlock co-star. They also shared a hug in front of their fans'.

Martin looked up at Benedict and they both giggled before sharing a kiss. Benedict wrapped his arms around the shorter man whilst Martin clung onto the lapels of Benedict’s suit.. It was a happy kiss. One which showed no ounce of worrying or anything secret. It was all out now and Benedict couldn’t wait to go out and show his lover off to the world. Him and Martin, together. For all of eternity.

Hi and thanks for liking my blog!

As for my grammar, I’m sure that’s not the only thing wrong with it haha. I’m still in school and don’t actually take English so writing ‘properly’ isn’t one of my strong points. My POV’s are awful without writing in first person, though I don’t particularly like first person. Find it odd to read. I’m practising though! Comma’s and full stops look neater outside the speech marks in my opinion but I understand that it’s fucking annoying that I’m doing it wrong haha, it’s just a habit. I’ll try write with them inside the quotation marks from now on, though I can’t guarantee it as habits do stick. I’ll try though. Thanks for the feedback!

Edit:

Actually, the rules are slightly different in the UK with punctuation and speech marks. Take a read of this, If it really affects you I guess I could change it but this does say I can type like that.

thank you! 

I’m really sorry I’m barely posting I suck so bad, why do I nearly have 800 followers (thanks everyone for that by the way, wow). I’ve started my new school so everythings all just a bit, meh, at the moment. I’ll post some more stuff up soon I promise. I barely post, I know, so sorry about that. I’ll get some stuff up soon :)

Nope, but I’ve got about 10 prompts asking me to write one.

Nope, sorry!

I’ve been staring at this prompt for like a week trying to figure out what you actually mean but, nope. Sorry, I’m so confused!

[Hello :) Thank you for the prompt, and for liking my writing! I really appreciate it. Enjoyed writing this so I hope people enjoy it too. I guess whoever is reading this can make John as old as they want. Hope you like it! Thanks again]

I stared at my class of 17 year olds from my desk, “you’re dismissed. Please bring your papers up to me. Thank you”. The loud noise of people scraping back their chairs filled my ears as everyone scrambled to get up and get out the classroom as fast as they could. One by one each student dumped their paper on top of one another’s on my desk before quickly leaving the room. All except one boy. “Sherlock Holmes”. The boy looked up quickly, “yes Sir?”. I stood up and walked towards him, “I don’t mean to.. intrude but..”, he interrupted before I even finished my sentence, “no. No I, don’t have any friends”. I perched myself on the edge of the desk as he zipped up his bag, “what do you enjoy? Doesn’t anyone have the same interests as you?”. Sherlock just shrugged, “I like science. Experiments. A challenge”. I smiled, “I like science too”. Sherlock huffed a laugh, “you’re a science teacher Sir”. I laughed and nodded, “indeed I am. Well, if you ever want to do any experiments I don’t mind. I can supervise you”. Sherlock’s eyes lit up, “thank you Sir”.That was exactly what I did. Every friday, Sherlock Holmes turned up in my lab to do experiments. I watched. He didn’t really like me getting involved but it was fascinating to watch him work. He was one of the cleverest in the year, in the whole school even and just watching him, anyone could tell that. One day a week soon turned into two, then it was three days a week but, I didn’t mind. It was enjoyable. I liked it.I heard a knock on my door and looked up. Sherlock was standing there. It was a Tuesday. He never came on Tuesdays. “Come in Sherlock. Are.. you okay?”. Sherlock walked in and sat up on one of the desks. He was tall, but the science tables were tall too, so his feet didn’t quite touch the floor. “I’m fine. I was just wondering if you could help me with an experiment today?”. I stood up from the seat behind my desk, “of course, what is it you need?”.Sherlock set up the experiment, putting beakers of what seemed like everything he could get hold of. He took a bag out of his pocket which was filled with water and a small orange fish. “Sherlock, don’t you dare but that in Acetaldehyde. You know it’s toxic to fish”, I warned him. Sherlock looked up at me, frowning, “but it’s for an experiment”. I shook my head, “there’s nothing to observe, you’ll just kill it. Don’t. Please Sherlock?. It’s a living thing?”. He scowled at me and put the bag down on the table, “well what should I do with it?”. I smiled, “we’ll put it in the school pond later, but put the Acetaldehyde back, it’s hazardous, to that poor little fish and even to you”. Sherlock did as he was told and then sat down on my desk. My desk was shorter than students ones so his feet were firmly on the ground. He was watching me as I tidied his mess away. “Did you want something else? You look like you want to say something”, I said as I put the last beaker back into the cupboard. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but then shook his head, jumping off the desk and quickly running out the door, leaving the fish for me to get rid of.That night I lay there in bed, sweating and hard. I’d be hard for well over an hour now but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it. I was hard from thoughts about Sherlock. He was one of my student for god sake. I could lose my job. I imagined him sitting in my chair whilst I sat on the desk, him in between my legs as he took my cock down his throat. I imagined him doing as he was told, obeying every single thing I told him to do. I wondered if he was a virgin. I’d be the first to claim him. The first to use him. The sounds that he’d make. Where we’d do it. Us joined as one as he begged me for release. That was it. I wrapped a hand around my cock and moaned. It only took a mere 3 minutes before I’d spilled all over my stomach. Sherlock didn’t come and see me again until Friday. “You didn’t come the last two days”, I said, not looking up from my marking. “Sorry”, he mumbled. I looked up at him, “no, don’t be sorry.. if you were busy that’s fine”. He shook his head, “I wasn’t busy, I was just thinking”. I put down my pen and frowned, “is everything alright? At home? School?”. Sherlock didn’t answer, he just walked towards me and sat on my desk, “can I, ask you a question?”. I smiled, “of course, ask away”. Sherlock looked away from me. I’d never seen him be embarrassed before. He never really showed his emotions, but now he couldn’t even look at me. “I think I like someone”. I felt my heart sink and my throat burn dry. “What’s the problem?”, I choked out. He licked his lips, pausing for a moment, “what do I do?”. I cleared my throat, continuing to stare at him, “well just, make them happy I guess. Tell them you like them. Kiss them maybe? It’s up to you Sherlock. People react differently”. He turned towards me and opened his mouth to speak, but before he even got any words out he’d smashed his lips to mine. I gasped and grabbed a fistful of his hair to keep his lips on mine as soon as I came to my senses. I nibbled on his lower lip and he parted them ever so slightly. I plunged my tongue in and kissed him within an inch of my life. He tasted exquisite. I’d wanted this for so long and it was finally, finally happening.When we finally pulled away his lips were bruised and his hair was sticking up in all directions. He leant forwards and I caught him before he toppled off the desk and on top of me, “okay?”, I said, panting. He pulled a small bottle out of his pocket and put it on the desk. Lube. “Sherlock, we can’t. If anyone catches us, I’ll lose my job! Not in school, not here”, I said, trying to get my breath back. He jumped off the desk and leant over it, his bum in the air with him gripping the other side of the desk as his chest and stomach was pressed against it, my marking underneath him. There was also pens and other bits of equipment scattered across the floor, “I’ve waited too long. Please”. I pushed the chair away, and stood up quickly, my mind changing in an instant. I reached round to unbutton his trousers, “are you a virgin?”. Sherlock didn’t answer so I tugged on his hair, making him gasp, "answer me Sherlock, it’s important”. He nodded quickly and I groaned as I tugged his trousers down to his ankles along with his pants. His cock hit his stomach with a loud 'smack' and he whimpered softly, “Sir, I want you. I want you so badly”. I leant over him and kissed his neck, “John. It’s John, Sherlock. You’ll have me, I’m all yours”. Sherlock thrust against the desk, seeking friction and I tugged his hair again, “don’t do that. That’s my job, hmm?”. I pulled my trousers and pants down too and grabbed the bottle, tipping some over my fingers. I pushed the first finger inside him without warning and Sherlock cried out, loudly. “Shh love, we don’t want anyone coming in. Not too loud”, I said softly, adding a second finger and scissoring them both. He was panting and gasping, trying to push back onto my fingers. His knuckles were white as they clung onto the desk as tight as he could. With the third finger I brushed against his prostate and his hands let go of the desk making him almost drop to the floor, “careful, I’ve got you, but keep hold. You’ll need it”. I removed my fingers and he whimpered and moaned, “Sir, John, please. I need you. In me. Please, please”. I poured some more lube into my hands and gave my cock a few strokes, “it’s okay Sherlock, I am, I am”. I lined up with his hole and pushed in. It was tight. I’d used 3 fingers and still it was a tight fit. “Big, god. John. Sir. Oh my, more”, he stuttered. I pushed all the way in and grabbed hold of his hips, panting. I pulled nearly all the way out and Sherlock sobbed. I thrust back in hard and the sound of flesh hitting flesh spurred me on. I did it again and again, faster and harder each time. Sherlock was moaning and mumbling out a jumbled mix of words as my movements got more and more erratic. I changed my angle and every thrust of my hips had me slamming into Sherlock’s prostate. He was crying out loudly. Luckily the school was quite empty at this time of the evening otherwise I’m pretty sure the whole school would be able to hear his moans and cries. I’d be out of my job for sure too, as he screamed out, "JOHN", as he came all over my desk. I pound into him, gripping his hips so tightly purple marks were forming under my fingertips. “I love you”, Sherlock sobbed and I came inside him, my vision going white as the most intense orgasm I’d ever had, hit me like a tonne of bricks. After my vision came back to me, I pulled out of him and kicked off my trousers and pants that were still around my ankles. I walked over to the sink to fetch two paper towels, one which I soaked and one which was dry. I wiped Sherlock and my desk up before cleaning myself free from any stickiness too. I tugged my clothes back on before collapsing back into my chair. Sherlock was still slumped over my desk and he was crying. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”, I said softly. Sherlock shook his head, “I didn’t mean to say that”, he whispered quietly. I helped him back into his clothes and zipped his flies up, before I sat down again with him in my lap. “I love you too, so it doesn’t matter”, I whispered in his ear as I held him, “but I have no idea why you love me, I’m an old man”. Sherlock looked up at me from where his face was pressed to my neck, “you’re not old, I’m just young”. I smiled at him and he smiled back before he pressed a soft kiss to my lips. “See you tomorrow in class then?”. I laughed softly, “yes Sherlock, I’ll see you tomorrow”.

[Hello! If anyone actually reads these stupid things I put at the start of every fic I write, you’ll probably know what I’m going to say. I’m sorry it took so long! I suck so bad at keeping up with prompts I’m really sorry, I’m now at over 70 prompts so I really am trying here haha. I wrote this in 3rd person, I don’t usually do so but idk it just kind of happened. I prefer 1st person but I guess if anyone wants a specific POV I’m happy to do whatever. I also have no idea about children so I have no clue what they learn at school I don’t know if 5 is too old to learn the alphabet but, eh. Hope you enjoy and thanks for the prompt!]

"Daisy, love, let’s get you up hm? Sit back up straight", John said, helping the 5 year old back into a sitting position rather than her being sprawled out across the carpet, "only 10 more minutes then it’s play time". Daisy let out a high pitched squeal and John laughed, walking back to the front of the small class. It was filled with around twenty 5 year old children all staring back at him. "Let’s carry on with our letters and sounds, yes? Are you all listening?". A few of the children replied with loud, drawn out shouts of 'yes' while the others enthusiastically nodded their heads. “Where were we up to? Anyone know? Paul?”. The young boy looked up at the ceiling with his mouth open, looking like he was thinking, “uh, e-ff, I think”. John smiled, “yes, perfect, well done”.John had been teaching 5 and 6 year olds for 2 years now. He was a relatively new teacher but the kids all seemed to love him. He didn’t really know many of the other staff, especially now, as a new school year had just started. John’s third year. He liked kids. He didn’t know why but the idea of helping them out and having that responsibility made him smile. He wanted kids of his own one day. A son and a daughter, if not more."After the letter f is g. Everyone repeat after me. G-ee”. The children repeated after him, pronouncing the letter, slightly over exaggerating it but John smiled anyway. “Sounds lovely well done. Shall we repeat all we have lear-“. He stopped his sentence halfway through as one of the youngest in his class, Faith, put her hand in the air, “Mr Watson?”. John nodded, “yes Faith?”. She shuffled around in her chair, looking at the floor, “can I uhm..”. The rest of her sentence tailed off as she started mumbling under her breath. John walked towards her, crouching down, “come on, whisper in my ear”. She smiled at him and leaned up slightly so she could reach, “I need to uh, go to a toilet”. John nodded, “okay that’s fine, go ahead”. She whispered in his ear again, “I don’t like, going by myself”. John nodded, “okay, Daisy, go with Faith please. Everyone else, come on, up we get lets go outside for play time”.The playground outside was relatively big with a large, white line painted down the middle to separate the different years. The six year olds on one side and John’s class, the 5 year olds, on the other. John sat down on the bench near the school building while he watched the children run around, playing all sorts of games he definitely didn’t remember when he was at school. John never thought he would be a teacher though he was one of the only people in his classes at school who was even happy to be learning. All of a sudden two high pitched screams filled John’s ears. He jumped up and ran over to the two boys who had collided. One he recognised, Ben, who was in his class and the other he didn’t know. The teacher from the other side of the playground ran over, helping the crying child to his feet as John helped Ben to his. “Sherlock”. John looked up at the man who just spoke, “sorry?”. The teacher looked up from where he was wiping some dirt off the child’s knee, “Sherlock. That’s my name”. John smiled, "oh, right. I’m John”. Sherlock stood up and took the child from his classes hand, “let’s get you both to the medical room”. They both walked towards the school and John waved towards the head teacher and she came over. “Can you watch the kids? We had a collision. We’re getting these two to the medical room”. She nodded, even though it wasn’t necessary for both Sherlock and John to go to the medical room. But both John and Sherlock entered the school building anyway, with a wet faced child clasping each of their hands. Sherlock had only just started teaching. It wasn’t children or teaching he liked, it was just doing something he enjoyed. He liked talking about things he was interested in. Also, 6 years never argued with him so, the job was ideal for him.

Both Sherlock and John sat down outside the medical room next to each other. Both of them on ridiculously small chairs. "So.. how far have you got with the syllabus so far?”, John said, breaking the silence. Sherlock smiled slightly, “I’m.. teaching them about bees”. John smirked, “bees? They’re not in the syllabus”. Sherlock laughed, “oh John, the school syllabus isn’t all there is to life”. John rolled his eyes, though he was now full on grinning. “What else is there to life then, Mr.. ?”, John said while staring straight at him. “Holmes..”, Sherlock replied, grinning back at him, “..and how about tonight. I know a nice Chinese. They do takeaways”. John laughed as the door to the medical room opened and both children walked out with plasters on their knees. “Alright. Meet me in the playground at 4”, John smirked. Sherlock winked, making them both grin widely and it stayed plastered on their faces for the rest of the day.

you are most welcome! and thank you so much 

aw wow, thank you so much that means an awful lot :)

[ah thank you so much! I hope this is okay for you. It’s kinda fluffy and I tried to make it a little angsty but I’m not sure if it worked. Enjoy, and thanks again. Oh, and Mycroft is so smooth in this I love him haha]

 It was after the honeymoon. That’s when it all kicked off. I missed him and he missed me and it all sort of just happened at once. I was waiting for him to come back when he walked through the door of our flat. I didn’t expect him to come back to the flat as he lived with Mary now but he came back to see me. John came back to see me.He looked absolutely exquisite. His skin was a golden brown colour from where he had gotten a tan and his hair had gone a lighter shade of blonde from the sun. He looked at me and grinned and I jumped up out of my seat, grinning back at him and pulling him into a tight hug. It all happened in a split second. It only took one direct look in my eyes from John before he was slammed against the door. Another 5 seconds before our clothes were thrown on the floor and only another 10 minutes before my stomach was covered in John’s sticky release and the evidence I came inside of him dripping out of his hole.The next morning we woke up together. He was laying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. I lay on my side staring at him. Last night he slept with his arms wrapped tightly around me. I missed his touch. “Talk to me”, I said quietly. He squeezed his eyes shut, “I think I’ve made a mistake”. I touched his arm lightly, drawing patterns and shapes on it as he spoke, “I married her. What about you? I love you more than I’ll ever love her. You’re my best friend Sherlock, you made my life worth living after I got shot. I am so happy when I’m with you and now, we just had sex. That doesn’t make you just my best friend anymore Sherlock. You’re my lover too. I want.. you. I just don’t know what to do”. I shrugged slowly, “then, just leave her?”. John shook his head, smiling slightly, “all those people at the wedding. I can’t tell them I couldn’t even survive a month being married. It’s, embarrassing Sherlock”. I propped myself up on my elbows, “it’s not about anyone else John. It’s about me, you and Mary”. John finally looked over at me, “I love you. Why didn’t I realise it before?”, he said, his eyes watering and his tears looking like they were going to spill over any second. “Some thing’s take time”, I said softly. John just giggled, “you’re the least patient man I know”. I just grinned, "wrong. I’ve been waiting for you ever since I borrowed your phone”. John opened his mouth to speak but his stomach rumbled, making us both laugh. “I take it you have nothing in the fridge?”, John smirked. My eyes widened, “I’m sorry I, didn’t know you were coming back here”. John shook his head, “I’ll grab something from Speedy’s and bring it up, get dressed”. He rolled out of bed and walked out of the bedroom. I could hear him picking up the discarded clothes from last night and pulling them on before the door slammed shut and he ran down the stairs. I jumped up and grinned, taking out some clothes to wear. He loved me. He admitted it. He actually loved me.I switched the kettle on as I did the buttons up on my sleeves then pulled on my suit jacket. The door swung open though I had my back to it. “That was quic-“, I went to say before I was slammed up, face first, against the wall. That wasn’t John. “Mary, what a lovely surprise”, I muttered. She let out a huff of breath. I think that was meant to be a laugh. “My husband didn’t come home last night”, she practically growled. I could feel her breath on my ear, that’s how close she was. “That’s because we were having sex”, I said, smirking. I was glad she couldn’t see my face. She pressed against me harder, my whole body now flat up against the wall. My nose was at a crooked angle and if she pushed anymore I was sure I was going to have a nosebleed or in the worse case scenario, fracture it in someway. “He’s not gay”, she spat, “you’ve heard that enough times”. I couldn’t help but laugh, “he’s not gay. He’s just in love with me. He doesn’t love you he told me himse-“. She interrupted, shouting loudly, right next to my ear, hurting my ear drums, "enough!". I looked over at the TV on my left, John’s reflection visible by the doorway, “what are you going to do? Shoot me again?”. John’s small gasp was enough for her to turn around, releasing her grip on me, “John, love-“. John shook his head, silencing her. “You said that wound was from a case while I was away”, he said quietly, staring at me. I hung my head, not quite meeting his eyes, “she said it would be better if I didn’t tell you”. John glared at her, “so you did shoot him”. Mary swallowed, her nerves showing, “John, please let me explain”. Mary sat down in his chair but he refused to sit down. He just stood by the door, waiting on her excuses. “I wanted to kill Magnussen but Sherlock was there. If I killed him, Sherlock would have been a suspect so I shot him. I shot him so he didn’t go to jail. You see John? I did it for you”. John smiled. I knew that smile. It wasn’t a happy smile. He did it sometimes and that’s when I knew I had to be polite to him because yes, John Watson was a kind, warm-hearted man, but what people forget is that he was in the war. He is quite violent when he wants to be. “You shot him for me”, John said, staring at her. She nodded and John took a step forward. I watched him carefully. He wouldn’t hurt her, but he looked angry. Very angry. “You shot my best friend, for me”. Mary looked over at me. I was standing so I could have a good view of both of them but I wasn’t going to help her. “I love you”, she said softly. John shrugged, “I thought I loved you”. Mary stood up and I edged closer to John. He looked over at me and wiggled his fingers. I took his hand in mine and we both looked at her, “but I love Sherlock now”. She shook her head, “but, no! You can’t do that to me John. All your family were at the wedding. He dramatised everything. Everyone thinks he’s weird. He is weird, I am the right person for you. I know I am!”. John laughed softly and looked up at Sherlock, “people already thought he was weird, even before the wedding”. I laughed and she glared at me. “You can’t be with him”, she finally said and John clenched my hand harder, “why not”. Mary took a step forward, “because I won’t let you”. John took a step closer to her and, still I clung onto his hand, “and how will you manage that”. She smiled, “by not signing the divorce papers?”. John laughed. Loudly. “That won’t stop me! Give us a few years and I don’t need you to sign them. I don’t need to be married to Sherlock to be with him. Mary, I get it now. I was with you because Sherlock was dead. He’s back. So there’s no place for you here now”. Mary clenched her fists, “you’re a broken man anyway! Look at you. Desperate for a bit of danger so you marry an assassin and cheat on me with a sociopath!”, she practically shouted. John went to step closer to her but I held him back, “he’s not a sociopath!”, he practically screamed, “it’s just nobody understands him!”. Mary went to speak but John carried on screaming, “you’re not even an assassin! You’re an ex-assassin! It doesn’t count! Now get out of our house!”. John pulled his ring off and dropped it at her feet. I watched silently as she picked it up, a permanent expression of hate plastered to her face. “Don’t think you’ll be getting the stuff back you left at my place”, she scowled. John dropped my hand, “I’ve asked you to leave”.At that very moment the door swung open and 4 men came in carrying boxes and placed them in our flat. “I suggest you do as the man says”, Mycroft said as he walked in, obviously not carrying anything except his ridiculous umbrella, “congratulations brother and, John. I got your things picked up”. Mary gave me one of those looks that could kill, before walking out and slamming the door. John looked up at me and we both smiled at each other. “Thanks Mycroft”, John said looking over at him. He nodded his head and looked at me, “thank you”, I muttered quietly, making him smirk. “If you need anything, if she bothers you. I have loads of things I could get her charged with”. John laughed under his breath and nodded, “will do”. Mycroft left us to it and John looked up at me and grinned. I picked him up in my arms. His legs wrapped around my waist while I held him up by his bum, his forehead pressed to mine. I kissed his lips softly and grinned back at him as he held onto my shoulders tightly. “Back to the old us”, I said softly. John nodded, smiling, “to the old us”.

[Hello! When you said no rush I bet you didn’t think it would take this long.. haha. Sorry! I really really am, I am rubbish :) I hope you like this, it’s kinda short but it’s all fluff, no smut though there is a little nudity but it isn’t described as such. Enjoy and thank you so much!]

 I’d only been living with him for a few months and I already was loving it. He was a fascinating man, Sherlock Holmes. I knew that the first day I met him when he asked, "Afghanistan or Iraq?". Then I knew I needed him when I shot the cabbie. I needed him in my life more than I’d ever needed anyone but, he kept himself to himself and he didn’t need anyone but himself. That’s all he really cared about. Himself. I was just an occasional second opinion. Someone to feed him, someone to make him sleep and someone to just generally keep him alive. He did need me I suppose but, he’d never admit it. I turned the shower off and swore under my breath. I didn’t even think to bring a change of clothes in here. I couldn’t wear the stuff I was just wearing, it was soaking wet from where me and Sherlock had been running about London just an hour before trying to catch a man who’d killed a woman in broad daylight yet no one saw. We caught him, of course. I dried myself off and wrapped the towel around my waist, unlocking the bathroom door before walking out. Sherlock practically jumped out of his seat and walked towards me, “your scar”. I watched him cautiously as he stepped closer, ghosting his fingers around my scarred over bullet wound. He didn’t touch it, but I could feel the heat of his fingers they were so close. “Can I?”, he said. Sherlock never asked for anything. He was being polite. “Yeah”, I said quietly. He touched it with the pad of his finger and looked straight at me, “can I look at it? Properly. In detail”. I nodded, knowing if I said no, he would probably have gotten his way anyway. I followed him into his room and sat down on the edge of the bed and he nodded, “lay back”. I sighed and laid down on my back, watching as Sherlock rolled up his sleeves. He knelt down beside me and bent his head down, his nose was millimetres away from me and I could feel the warm breath of his nose again the starburst shaped scar on my chest. All my past lovers, not that he was my lover, oh no, ignored my scar. It seemed to make people uncomfortable. I didn’t like it, but I didn’t despise it. It reminded me of the good times I had out in Afghanistan not just the bad times or when I got shot. Sherlock ran his fingers along the edge of it, the middle, the corners. He applied pressure with some touches but others just barely touched it. He was analysing it. Categorising. That’s what he did best. “Can I, see the exit wound?”. I nodded and turned over, gripping the towel tightly at my waist so I didn’t expose myself. I heard Sherlock sigh softly before he started touching the back of the wound. He did the same routine, pressure and light touches. The whole area of it was covered. “Tell me about what happened”, he whispered. I propped myself up on my elbows so I could speak, “I got shot”. Sherlock scoffed a laugh. I just scowled, “let me continue”. He stayed silent, so I carried on. “We were out, in a small village. We’d had a tip off. Then they came out of nowhere. Shot down three men all in the space of about a second. We took the ones out who didn’t run, but not before they shot me. I ran out to see if the three men who’d been shot were alive. I could have saved them. Two of them were still breathing but. They shot me and I was the only one who lived who got shot that day. I could have saved them but they shot me”. Sherlock touched the pad of his finger to my scar again, “tell me about the others”. I turned over and smiled up at him, “all the others are just small ones, caused by stupid things”. Sherlock just shrugged, “I wanna know. Please?”. "My neck", I said before he brought his finger up to touch the scar there, "I fell off my bike when I was a kid. Landed on my front, cut my neck open on a rock". Sherlock laughed softly, "3 stitches". I grinned and nodded. "Left side of my chest". Sherlock touched that scar with his finger too, "bar fight got a bit out of hand. Stabbed me. Wasn’t that deep, just deep enough to scar. I was fine. Patched it up myself". I continued, even though he didn’t speak. "My hip". He looked up at me, "can I?". I sighed and nodded. The towel was in the way. He pulled it away from me and I laid there naked as he touched his finger to my hip, "Harry pushed me. She was drunk. I’d dragged her out of a bar as she was making a fool of herself. She pushed me and I fell forwards onto some glass. There’s a few scars on my hands from that too where I put my hands down to brace my fall". He took my hands in his and ran his fingers along every scar. I nodded down at my leg and he touched the scar with his finger once again, "bullet fragment. One of my best friends out there, Owen, got shot. Bit of the fragment hit my leg. I was behind him, was nearly me". Sherlock looked up at me, staring straight at me, "I’m glad you made it back home okay". I smiled up at him before he laid down next to me, him still fully clothed whilst I lay there naked. "I sometimes think.. if you had died. I would never have met you. I think what would I be doing now without you". I shook my head, "don’t think like that". He sighed softly and whispered so quietly, I was lucky I’d even heard it, "I don’t want you to leave. Everyone always leaves in the end". I grabbed his hand that lay next to mine and squeezed it, "I’ll never leave you, you infuriating, soppy, nutter. I promise you. I’ll always be here. I promise”.