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Remind Me Who I Am	By : Leloi Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2665 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Sherlock BBC universe or the characters herein. They are fictional. Make no money.

Chapter List
- 1-Remind Me Who I Am
- 1
John sat on the floor in front of the dark haired man wearing shorts and a t-shirt. His bare toes flexed and he held a car between his big toe and smaller toes. “Hi, Sherlock, do you remember me?”

The other man blinked, confused for a moment before recognition crossed his features. “John!”

John grinned. “That’s right! I’m your friend, John. How have you been? Have you been a good boy?”

Sherlock nodded and pried the car out from between his toes. “Good boy!” Pointing a long finger at John’s nose he smiled proudly. “Doctor!”

“That’s right, Sherlock. I am a doctor.”

From behind the one way glass Mycroft’s voice entered the room through the PA system. “That is amazing, John. He actually remembers you.”

John gave Sherlock a sad smile, remembering what he and Sherlock had been before the accident. “Do you want to play with me?”

Sherlock passed John a car and took one of his own, beginning to drive it around the room, running over tables and shelves as any small child would do. John followed close behind.

^.~

Three nights after the accident, Sherlock Holmes finally woke up from a coma. Even though he was technically awake his eyes remained unfocused and he seemed confused.

“What’s wrong with him?” John Watson asked the specialist.

“We are unsure. It seems some of his brain has… shut down.”

“Shut down?” John glanced nervously at his lover. “You mean he’s had brain damage?”

“The brain seems to be intact… he just doesn’t have access to it.”

Sherlock finally seemed to focus on the two people in the room. An arm reached out, pointing towards John. “Da!” He squealed with childlike enthusiasm.

^.~

“I’m going to win! Here I go!” John crowed as he made his car jump from the bookcase to the side table. “I’m winning!”

“No! No I win!” Sherlock jumped his car from the art easel to the door. “I win!”

“Ah… you beat me again!” John chuckled. For a moment he forgot that he was watching his husband’s brain redevelop like a child. The jump between toddler to preschooler had been abrupt. But as time passed it seemed Sherlock regained some of his development. Nervously he glanced towards the mirror. “I think it’s time for your nap.”

“Aw! One more?”

“No, Sherlock. It’s time for me to go. I’ll be back tomorrow. Ok?”

Sherlock pouted but went to the bed that had been designated as his sleeping space. “John come back later?”

“I will. I promise.” John tucked the other man in and kissed his forehead. “I love you, Sherlock. Be good.”

“Love you, Doctor John.”

^.~

A sullen Sherlock sat on the bed, knees up and arms crossed over his chest. When John approached the man-child frowned and looked away at the brightly poster covered wall.

“Good morning, Sherlock. How are you today?” John asked as approached the bed.

“Something is wrong.” Sherlock replied, giving John a glance before looking away. “Why am I in here? Where is Father? He would never allow me to stay here.”

“Your father? Why wouldn’t he allow you to stay here?”

“He says those specialists don’t know what they are talking about.” Sherlock answered. “I don’t NEED a doctor.” The last bit was delivered with a harsh glare. “Who are you to keep coming here? Doctor John. You haven’t aged a bit.”

“Of course I haven’t aged much, Sherlock… you’ve only been in here for a month at most.” John sat down on one of the chairs, resting his hands in his lap. “How old are you now, Sherlock?”

“Don’t you know?” Sherlock demanded.

“I want to know how old you think you are.”

“This is some sort of psychologist trick? That’s what you are, right? You’re a psychologist trying to study me and figure out why I’m so different?”

“I’m not a psychologist, Sherlock. You know that. If you read me you would know that I wasn’t that sort of doctor.”

“A surgeon then…” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Why do I need a surgeon?”

“You don’t.” John replied, leaning back in the chair and giving Sherlock a critical look.

“Then why are you here?” Sherlock demanded, turning on John. “Why am I here? Why aren’t I in school? I know I said I hate it but I still have to go, don’t I?”

“How old are you, Sherlock?” John whispered, never looking away from his husband.

“What do you think? I’m 16. Why do you come here? Are you some sort of pervert? You like them young? You look at me like you want me.”

John took a deep breath and rubbed his face. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?” It seemed teenage Sherlock was finally beginning to put the pieces together.

Sherlock’s eyes shot to the one way mirror and he frowned at his own reflection. “I don’t understand.”

“That is you. You are much older than you think you are.”

“I look… old.” Glancing down at his own body, he began to take inventory of his mature appendages.

“On your last birthday you turned 36.” John stated, leaning forward.

“But… I know I’m 16.” Sherlock whispered. “I remember… two sets of memories. I have always been here in this room and I have also been away at school… I remember blowing up the lab last week…” A sudden chuckle escaped Sherlock as he recalled the event. “How can I have two sets of memories?”

“You were in an accident. Your mind regressed to that of an infant. You’ve been redeveloping, visiting each childhood milestone briefly.”

“An accident?” Finally Sherlock got up from the bed, a bit unsteady on longer limbs than his 16 year old self was used to. “I’m not 16? I’m 36?”

“Yes.” John gave him a cautious smile.

“Why are you here? Are you the doctor helping me redevelop? Did you treat me for my accident?”

With a frown John shook his head again. “I probably shouldn’t tell you. I hope you’ll remember me eventually.”

Sherlock waved his concern away. “You told me to deduce you. So you’re not my doctor… but you are a doctor. All of my second sets of memories involve you being here with me. I am important to you for some reason? Why?”

John shook his head again. “It’s safer for your development if I don’t tell and you figured it out for yourself. It may come as a shock.”

“Why? Because I have some old doctor interested in my 36 year old self?”

“I’m not THAT old. I’m four years older than you.”

“How long have you known me?”

“We met a little more than two years ago.”

“Not very long ago…”

John gave the younger man a fond smile.

Sherlock blinked a few times, raising an eyebrow in inquiry. “We’re in a relationship?”

“What makes you say that?” John asked, swallowing hard.

“The way you look at me…”

John bit his lips and rubbed his hands on his thighs.

“We are in a relationship, aren’t we? That’s why you’re here? Sentiment…”

John scowled.

“I’ve used that word on you before?” Sherlock knelt to get a better look at John’s downcast face. His eyes caught on a plain band of gold on John’s left ring finger. His eyes went wide and he gasped in surprise. “I’m… with you?”

John stood, balling his hands into fists. “I should go. You need to rest. This is too much information for you right now.”

“No!” Sherlock caught John’s wrist. “I’m right, aren’t I? Of course I’m right! I’m rarely wrong. We’re together… so that means when I’m older I’m gay?”

Turning bright red John pulled away. “This is too much. I’m going to overwhelm you. I’ll go now and you can… get some rest.”

Sherlock’s hand caught John’s wrist. “No! Tell me! I am right, aren’t I? You’re here because we’re… together?”

“Sherlock… Your mind is 16 years old! You’re not ready for this. You’re still… very young. It would be unfair of me to answer this right now.”

“I’m not clueless! I know about snogging and… and shagging! I’ve seen it! The boys in my dormitory aren’t exactly… discrete about it. I saw Billy stick his prick in Harold’s arse! AND I saw Jimmy snog Greg in the rugby field.”

John shook his head. “This isn’t about that! Those things we did as kids… it’s not like when you’re older and in a real relationship with someone. When you’re 16 you’re overwhelmed with hormones.”

“I have never felt any overwhelming urge. I find those other blokes to be rather silly, actually… always carrying on about who is doing what to whom…”

“Rest, Sherlock. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“No. I want to know now. What are we?”

John glanced at the one way mirror, helpless.

“Go ahead and tell him.” Mycroft’s voice sounded over the PA system.

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling, looking for the speaker. “That was Father, wasn’t it?”

“No. Your father isn’t here.” John replied. “I’ve never met him.”

“Who then?” Sherlock demanded. “You have information so tell me!”

“I took after Father in many regards, Sherlock. Same career, similar appearance…” Mycroft spoke again.

“Mycroft?” Sherlock made a face at the PA speaker. “God you sound old! If I’m supposed to be 36 then that means… you’re 43?”

“This isn’t about me, brother dear. I am merely protecting you and providing a nurturing environment for you to redevelop away from prying eyes.”

Sherlock smirked and turned his ice blue eyes on John. “He’s such a prat… you’ve met him, obviously.”

“I know your brother well.” John confirmed.

“You must if we’re…” Sherlock stopped and leaned in closer to John, sniffing his collar. “No cologne. Just the same shampoo they gave me to use. Same soap… different deodorant, though.”

“At home you often use my shampoo and soap.”

“I’m not wearing deodorant right now.”

“You had the mind of a nine year old last night. Deodorant wasn’t yet part of your development stage. We’ve been letting you use products your age group would know how to use once we decided you could wash yourself.”

“You washed me when I was less developed.” Sherlock cocked an eyebrow.

“That responsibility fell to me, yes. You instinctively trusted me to wash your hair.”

“Because we’re together?”

John shut his mouth and looked down at the floor.

“Mycroft said you should answer.”

“We’re married, Sherlock… better or for worse… in sickness and in health. I took care of you before and there was no reason to stop or expect anyone else to do it.”

“I’m married…” Sherlock huffed out a small laugh and shook his head. “I can’t imagine myself married.”

“Well to be fair I never imagined in my entire life that I would end up with someone like you.”

“So if we’re married… does that mean we snog? Shag?”

John turned bright red and looked away. “Sherlock!”

“Why are you so embarrassed? That’s what married people do.”

John rubbed his face in his hands and sat back down on the chair, trying to steady his breathing.

“If we’re married then I assume we must do things like that too.”

John pulled his hands away and sighed heavily, glancing up at Sherlock. “We don’t… actually.”

“What?” Sherlock sat down on his bed. “Why not? Impotence?”

“What? No! I’m not impotent.”

“Am I?”

“As far as I know… you’re fine.” John replied.

“Then why haven’t we…?”

“Yes, John…” Mycroft’s voice drifted into the room, reminding the doctor that he and Sherlock had an audience. “Why haven’t you touched my darling baby brother?”

“We’re married… but it hasn’t been consummated yet.” John answered, turning a lovely shade of pink. “It was for a case… Um… you like puzzles and there was a puzzle that involved gay marriage. Married gays were showing up dead and you wanted to find out why. I agreed to become your husband so the killer would notice us. You caught him, of course. Then we just… never bothered to dissolve our marriage. Then you got into the accident and… and I promised to take care of you. We’re a team… partners. You’re my best friend.”

“So… it’s not a normal marriage?” Sherlock asked, kicking his ankles against the side of the bed.

“I don’t know… I know plenty of people who end up marrying their best friend. Usually that friend is of the opposite gender… and there’s a lot more… sex involved.”

“Sex… hmm… Am I still a virgin?”

“Yes.” John replied.

“Are you?”

John turned red and looked down at his lap.

“You’re not.” Sherlock flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “So does that mean you’ve taken vows of chastity by being stuck with me?”

“What? I’m not stuck with you!” John replied.

“I don’t suck your prick or let you shag me, do I? If you’re like the other blokes… you have ‘needs’ that you have to satisfy. Or do I let you have a paramour?”

“You have the mind of a 16 year old… how can you possibly know anything about paramours?” John demanded.

“I CAN read. It shows up in literature.”

John stared, wide eyed at Sherlock in shock.

“What? I still read, don’t I?”

“Of course you read… but I’ve never known you to pick up any sort of book that would have paramours in it.”

Sherlock shrugged and smirked, rolling onto his side to face John. “Limited library and overwhelming boredom…”

John chuckled and shook his head. “I know about your boredom. And no… I don’t have a mistress or anything.”

“No other blokes?” Sherlock asked airily.

“Aside from you I have never even considered being with another guy.”

“You like females? And yet you’re married to me. I know I’m male… I have taken a piss and can identify a prick when I see one. So… I’m the only male you’d make the exception for… interesting.”

“I told you… you’re my best friend.”

“You are a very interesting man, Doctor John… what you would do just for friendship and without being motivated by the desire for a wanking or a dirty snog in the rugby field.”

John blushed and smiled at Sherlock. “Thanks. Coming from you, I know that’s a compliment.”

Sherlock smiled and shut his eyes. His body shifted and took on a different air about it. Slowly he opened his eyes and stared dully into space.

“Sherlock? Do you need to rest? I can come back tomorrow.”

Sherlock flicked his eyes to John and flinched.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t make it stop.”

“What stop?”

“The noises in my head… they won’t stop, Doctor John. On and on… everywhere I look I can see details… so many details. And it hurts! I can’t… stop. I’m so tired and I can’t stop. Nothing can stop it. The drugs only dull it but it won’t stop.”

“Drugs?” John got up from the chair and sat down on the bed nearer to Sherlock. “How old are you now?”

“25 I think… yes… I got high on my birthday. They gave me drugs and… laughed at me. But I couldn’t make it stop… the deductions… Oh god! John it hurts!”

John gently guided Sherlock to rest against his chest as he lay down on the small bed beside his husband. “It’s alright, Sherlock… I’ve got you. Close your eyes and rest…” Lightly his fingers made abstract patterns against Sherlock’s scalp, tangling themselves in the soft curls. “I’ve got you… just… listen to my heartbeat and relax.”

“Have we… done this before? My older self that you married… do I still have the noises?”

“Sometimes…” John continued to massage Sherlock’s scalp. “You wind yourself up so tight and it makes you lash out at everyone. But you seem to like it when I massage your scalp. We’ll sit on the couch with your head on my chest or lap and I’ll rub your scalp until you fall asleep.”

“It feels nice.” Sherlock shut his eyes and seemed to be listening to John’s heart. “I feel… safe like this.”

“I know…” John’s fingertips continued. “Just focus on my fingers and my breathing.”

Sherlock gave a soft moan and then rubbed his face against John’s sternum. “Smells nice… feels nice… like… home.”

“Yes… good boy.” Lightly John’s lips kissed the intelligent temple of his husband.

“You do this for me?”

“Yes… not very often. Letting me comfort you seems to embarrass you so you only allow me to help when you really need it.”

“I can see why… it’s… intoxicating… like drugs.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I’m hard.” Sherlock rested his chin on John’s ribs and looked up into the hazels eyes of his doctor.

John stopped his ministrations. “What?”

“Back of my head… every time you rub it… it’s like… physical response is an erection.”

“I… I didn’t know.”

“Maybe that’s why I don’t let you do it very often… you told me we don’t have sex, right?”

“Um… yes… I told your 16 year old self that.”

“Well… I’m hard right now. I can only imagine what it must be like if I’m 36 and letting you do this to me. I can barely take it… but I’ve done a lot of drugs lately… otherwise I don’t think I would say anything out loud. You caught me with my inhibitions pretty low, Doctor John.” Sherlock giggled and rubbed his face against John’s chest before settling down with his ear to the other man’s sternum. “Your heart sped up.”

“What have you been taking?”

“A little of this and a little of that… self-medicated to get my head quiet. You’re the first that’s touched me, though. Everyone is afraid of me. They call me freak…”

“I know. I know what they call you.”

“If I knew touch could do THIS… then I would have found a lover ages ago… not that anyone would have me… but still. Prostitutes would probably do this for a fee, right?”

“Sherlock…”

Sherlock met his doctor’s hazel eyes with his own ice blue. “Mentioning prostitutes hurt you? You care about me?”

“I married you, didn’t I?”

“For a puzzle solution…” Sherlock rubbed his nose against John’s shirt. “God, even my nose… I can feel you and smell you… just you! My brain isn’t… more! Please give me more!”

“What would you have me do?”

“Take off your clothes? I think I need to smell your skin…”

John glanced nervously at the one way mirror. “Mycroft will see…”

“Then get in my bed. I don’t care… just please?” Sherlock’s hands were already pulling at John’s shirt, trying to undress him. “I need more… please?”

John nodded and nervously began to unbutton his shirt, surprised when Sherlock pushed his hands away and began to undress him. First his shirt was tossed onto the floor and Sherlock rubbed his face against the exposed skin, moaning softly.

“You smell… my mind goes silent with your smell. I can focus. The pain is… gone. I want more.” Lips found the scar on John’s shoulder and lightly kissed it. “What is here? You were hurt too.”

“I was shot. Before I met you I was a soldier and they sent me back when I developed complications from my wound…” John was silenced by lips taking his own. A very eager Sherlock was practically grinding against him as his lips took a sloppy kiss. “Fuck… Sherlock… We’ve never done this…”

“But you want to. I can feel your erection. You want me to touch you.”

“Oh God, yes!” John moaned, baring his throat to his husband’s teeth and lips. Hands slid down his chest and stomach to undo trouser buttons and fingers probed under the waistband of his pants. A moment of frantic movement and John found himself lying fully naked under Sherlock who hand somehow managed to stay clothed.

“We’re married… and I’ve never touched you? Never seen you like this?”

John suddenly felt guilty, seeing the younger mind in his husband’s body. “I’m sorry… no… I just didn’t think you’d be interested in me like that.”

Sitting back on his haunches, Sherlock looked down John’s body and back up again to his face. A smirk caught his lips. “It didn’t take much, did it? You’re ready for me and all it took was… my wanting to bask in the silence you give me. He must want you so much…”

“Who?”

“My future self.” Sherlock replied. Quickly he began to undress, easily removing his t-shirt and shorts. They had never bothered with underpants. His younger self would soil them and his older self didn’t really care about what he wore. “Have you seen me naked? Aside from your helping me bathe. But before the accident?”

“All the time…” John smiled. “You’re a bit of an exhibitionist, actually. One summer I could only get you into a bed sheet when we had clients. Otherwise you pretty much did everything naked. You said it was too hot to think about clothes… that the very idea of pants cluttered your mind palace needlessly.”

Sherlock chuckled softly and stretched out against John, nuzzling against his chest and inhaling his scent. “I may have been trying to shag you. Were we married yet?”

“No. But you did end up at Buckingham Palace in only a bed sheet. We laughed so hard… pissed off Mycroft. You stole an ashtray for me because I mentioned I wanted to steal one.”

“So… we’re happy?”

“I told you… you’re my best friend.” John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders.

“Have I ever hurt you?”

“You… you faked your own death. I was… lost.” Sudden tears poured down John’s cheeks and he released Sherlock to wipe them away. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to… it’s just…”

“How long?”

“Three months. You were ‘dead’ for three months. God help me I wanted to follow you… so when you came back… and you suggested that we get married…”

Sherlock pulled back a bit and blinked at John. “You forgave me?”

“I… understood. You did it for me. If you didn’t then I would have been… there was a sniper watching me. I had to believe you were really dead to be safe. While you were gone you took down the group that was responsible. Mycroft helped you. Then you came back to me and told me why...”

“I love you?” Sherlock whispered.

“What?”

“I must… love you then. To let Mycroft help… and to leave you when you bring me peace… Our marriage is real.”

“Of course it’s real. It was legally binding and it hasn’t been annulled.”

“No… I mean… I’ve been so… alone. I think about how no one wants to be with me… that there must be something wrong with me. I’m told it’s not a flaw and yet… it hurts. I feel so empty. But you’re so warm. And you silence my mind so I can focus. You like women and yet… you’re happy being with me.”

“You do frustrate me at times… and your coldness can be a little… but yes. We have each other, Sherlock. We will always have each other. You are the most amazingly brilliant person I have ever known and I’m honored to be your husband.”

“You’re honored even though we’ve never had sex to consummate our marriage?”

“There are other ways to fulfill each other…”

“Yes… but they don’t really count.” Leaning in, Sherlock pressed his lips against John’s and forced his way into the other’s mouth. His hands rand lazy patterns down the other man’s sides, wallowing in the comfort John’s body provided.

John helplessly ground his hips against his partner’s, taking delight in the friction. It had been a long time since he had a real lover. Wrapping a leg around Sherlock’s waist, he pulled the other man closer.

Sherlock pulled away from the kiss, licking his wet lips that tasted of John. A look of confusion crossed his face as he studied John’s lips a moment. “Oh! We’re…? Ok… Yes.”

“Hmm?” John cocked an eyebrow.

Sherlock blinked a few times and closed his eyes, giving an experimental thrust.

“Oh!” John gasped, pushing back.

Opening his eyes, Sherlock gave a smirk, lightly touching John’s lips with his fingertips. “My John…”

John’s hands lightly traced Sherlock’s spine until Sherlock gave another thrust. Hands clasped at the slim waist and boney hip. “Grind more… friction.”

Sherlock gave a pelvis roll as he gave another thrust, rubbing their cocks together in an almost lazy and yet powerful movement.

“Mmm… yes.”

“Do you want to be inside of me?” Sherlock whispered, nibbling John’s earlobe.

“What would your future-self think of that?”

“I wonder if there’s any lubricant around here.”

“In the bathroom, perhaps? From your toddler days?”

Sherlock hopped up from the bed. “Stay there!” He quickly sprinted away with his cock bobbing in front of him.

John rearranged the blanket so Mycroft wouldn’t be able to see too much.

Sherlock reappeared with a tube in his hand. “Perfect! Quickly now!” Squeezing out a generous amount he handed the rest of the tube to John, kneeling on the bed to reach behind himself. His eyes watched John lube himself almost hungrily before he finished with his own prep and helped John with his.

“Not so rough! Gently!” John cried out, catching Sherlock’s hand to slow it down in tender strokes. “Cover us with the blanket?”

Sherlock glanced back at the one way mirror. “I’m sure he has a camera set up in our bedroom at home.” And with that Sherlock straddled his John and eased himself down.

“Our bedroom?” John queried as his eyes rolled back in his head, feeling Sherlock’s tight heat surround him. “Oh God! You’re so… tight…”

“I’m pretty sure the entire flat is bugged. John… oh John… Please?”

“Our… flat?” Something clicked in John’s mind but it was shuffled back away with Sherlock’s almost brutal pace, pulling up and then pushing back down again over and over.

“It… hurts… so big…”

“Then slow down!” John cried out, trying to catch Sherlock’s hips.

“I can’t! I want you so much!” Sherlock nearly snarled. “I’ve wanted you for so long… touch me.”

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist. “Slower… please, slower? You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Like how I hurt you?” Sherlock growled.

“No! Stop punishing yourself. Slow down!” John sat up and caught Sherlock’s shoulders, keeping the taller man still. “It’s not supposed to hurt. Uncomfortable… maybe… but Sherlock… Slowly. This isn’t a race.” Hands found hips and the doctor helped his overeager lover to find a better pace. “It won’t count unless we both enjoy it.”

Sherlock smirked and allowed the slower pace, feeling himself open up to John’s length and girth. Resting his face against John’s wounded shoulder and taking in the other man’s calming scent he began to move. “You’re mine.”

John patted Sherlock’s back and kissed the other man’s neck. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Always, John… always. I’m lost without you.”

“I missed you so much.”

“And yet I was right here all along.”

“You weren’t you.”

Sherlock leaned down to kiss and in that moment found out where his prostate was. “Oh God!”

“Did I hurt you?”

“It… more! Again! Just that angle again!”

“Ah…. Prostate.”

“I don’t care what it’s called, hit it again!”

John obliged, easing Sherlock onto his back so he could take over the angle and pace. “You liked that, did you?”

“Again!”

John smiled and angled again to hit the spot, finally able to resume the brutal pace. His hips snapped and he proceeded to abuse the spot to satisfy his husband’s needs. Oh god… husband. The beautiful man that lay below him, begging for more was his spouse… who seemed to have regained his mind. The relief was almost overwhelming and John gave into Sherlock’s almost constant keening and cries for more. His hand grabbed at Sherlock’s penis and he shamelessly fisted it, encouraging his lover to orgasm.

Sherlock cried out and wrapped a leg around John’s back to hold him in place as his seed spurted between them. “John… oh John… my John… my fucking fantastic John…”

John bowed his head and felt the familiar tightening in his balls that signaled the imminent release. The idea crossed his mind that he was emptying his testicles into the great Sherlock Holmes’ arse made him near giddy with delight. For a long time he lay, panting over his husband, uncaring that Mycroft could see everything. “Were you really trying to seduce me by walking around our flat naked?”

“Perhaps…” Sherlock grinned. “I know you liked what you saw even though you feigned embarrassment.”

“I WAS embarrassed… especially when Mrs. Hudson walked in while you were leaning over the back of my chair to type on the laptop in MY lap. She thought she caught us in a sex act.”

“She should learn to knock more.”

“She may have been secretly thrilled about your interest in me, convinced our wedding was right around the corner. She wanted us to register at Harrod’s.” Pulling out, John curled up against Sherlock’s side. “I missed you.”

“You changed my diapers.”

“Yes. I don’t want to know where Mycroft found diapers to fit your beautiful bum.”

“You taught me we walk.”

“Encouraged really… One moment you were crawling and the next you were toddling across the floor. I regretted it the moment you were able to reach above my head. I couldn’t keep anything out of your reach.”

“How old was I when you had to leave me for part of the day?”

“Mycroft said it would help you with independence. I think you were around… four or five. It was around nursery school age. But really it was only a couple of weeks after the accident.”

“You took very good care of me.”

“That’s what I do.” John noticed one of the toy cars was on the table next to the bed. Reaching for it he began to run it down Sherlock’s bare lateral flank. “I’m winning!”

“No, I am.” Sherlock caught John’s wrist and pulled the other man to him, kissing him deeply and not letting go. The car was dropped and forgotten.
--End
^.~
Author's Notes: Hey all! I may have run into some of you at Yaoicon 2012! I finished this while hanging out at my table being very bored. I have another fic I'll add soon that I nearly finished after the convention was over. This may someday end up at AO3... if I ever get an invite. I think my queue date something like... December 2056. (As if I'll still be posting fanfics when I'm 81 years old! I hope to publish legit stuff by then, at least!) It may have said December 2016. Still a very long way away (I swear it was years!). I may be publishing elsewhere under my real name. It's "Gretchen" BTW. You're stuck with me here because I'm too mature for FF.Net and AO3 has a very long queue (there's always KS Archive for my Trekkie stuff)! I promise I am not plagiarizing myself if I post other places. Just about all of them have my "Leloi" pename. My legit porn pename will be "Leloi Kelekena" (because Kelekena is Gretchen in Hawaiian). At Yaoicon I was asked to repost my Inuyasha "Heat" series here (I wrote it... about 10 years ago). To recap... if you ever find my work someplace else with any name other than "Leloi" "Gretchen" or "Leloi Kelekena"... it's probably NOT me.
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Remind Me Who I Am