Love:The Power of Life and Death- Johnlock

Their First Time...

Sherlock had barely changed; his pale face still glowed softly in the bright moonlight. The man's piercing eyes were still an icy pale blue as they gazed intently into John's. John observed Sherlock who was sitting next to him in the London cab on the way to Baker Street. Only one thing about him had changed in John's absence; his figure, it was much slimmer. Sherlock clearly hadn't been eating much as he waited for his doctor to return, as a consequence, he had lost all the weight that John helped him put on after his 'return from the dead' as most people called it. Guilt suddenly engulfed John's paralysed body as he continued to stare at the man beside him. His guilt was soon replaced with content though as he watched the silky ebony curls that hung freely across Sherlock's forehead bounce as the taxi went over a speed bump. He stifled a chuckle. He was aware of his love for Sherlock, but on that ride back to the flat, after a month of not seeing him, John was finally certain that this was how he wanted to spend the rest of his life: to constantly be in the detective's presence and to have moments like this, where they don't need to talk, their eyes do all of the talking as they drink in each other.

After a 20 minute journey which seemed like only 5 minutes, the consulting duo were stood in front of a well known jet black, glossy door which held the address '221B'. The metal plates shimmered every time it caught the glow from the headlights of cars as they drove past. John watched as Sherlock hastily searched his pockets for the key. As a bitter breeze passed him, the doctor wrapped Sherlock's overcoat around himself tighter. He will never forget the concerned yet caring look the detective gave him at the airport as he swiftly took off his overcoat and draped it around John to keep him warm. One of the rare selfless acts that Sherlock had done for John. John inhaled deeply, the familiar aroma of Sherlock filled his lungs: Spicy cologne and a bit of lab disinfectant. The blond was snapped out of his thoughts as he heard the door unlock. Mrs Hudson quickly ran down the hallway to greet the two before pulling John into a tight hug. "Lovely to have you back!"

"Glad to be back." John smiled softly.

"Would you like a cuppa?"

"No he wouldn't." Sherlock quickly responded before John could even think of an answer, earning a rather confused look off him and Mrs Hudson.

"Actually," John finally answered, "I would love-"

"No you wouldn't. Come on, John; I'll help you unpack."

Suddenly, the doctor was pulled by his arm as Sherlock ran up the stairs...

Sherlock stopped in front of the door, hesitating to open it. "Sherlock?" John began, "are you oka-" He was abruptly cut off as Sherlock pulled John into a kiss. This wasn't like the one they had shared at the airport; it was certainly passionate, but it was also desperate. John moaned softly into the kiss as his fingers gradually found themselves entwined in Sherlock's curls. Just as it began to get more heated, Sherlock pulled away. "Mrs Hudson could come up at any moment, sorry." The detective smirked as he opened the door. As John peered through the doorway his jaw dropped at the sight of the living room. The room was immaculate, not a speck of dust in sight and not an item misplaced; this was not the reason John was so astounded though. The lights were off but the room was filled with a warm golden glow from the roaring fireplace and the candles which were scattered around its surroundings. Flickering flames from the candles that were lined up along the frame of the fireplace lit up the glistening mirror behind them. John speechlessly stepped into the room, he inhaled deeply at the familiar scent of the flat which had a subtle undertone of vanilla and cinnamon from the burning candles. "Sherlock...this is-"

"Shhhh." Sherlock gently pulled his coat off of John and hung it on the door before guiding the doctor to the kitchen. The usual smell of rotting flesh and bacterium in Petri dishes was replaced with the irresistible aroma of spaghetti bolognaise and garlic bread. Red wine was resting at the side of the table beside two glasses which glistened in the candle light which filled the kitchen as well as the living room. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk; he didn't realise that Angelo would take the meal this far. Nevertheless, the scenery was still breathtaking. The detective gestured for the stunned John to sit; he willingly obliged.