Hey My Lovelies!!! I'M BACK!!!!! Sorry this has taken so long!! MAJOR Drama at work has left me working nearly 40 hrs a week....Its a long, crazy story, and if you want to hear it, let me know and I will post it in my Get To Know Me book....Anyways!!! Kristin5687 has been pestering me to write this one for a while so here it is!! SMUT WARNING!!! A sweet, smutty fic for my babies!!! Enjoy<3

Seeing John standing at the door to 221B was easily the greatest, most painful thing Sherlock had ever experienced. Seeing the man that had been his best friend for so long, tears in his eyes as he fidgeted nervously at the door, pain, fear and hope in his eyes as he held his sleeping child close.

"Can we come home?"

"Of course John, you and Rosamund are always welcome here."

It was a long time before things felt normal again. After everything that had happened between them, Sherlock found himself keeping his distance, letting John have some space to mourn.

Sherlock was feeding Rosie when he first noticed things changing. It was subtle, so much so, that he nearly missed it. A soft touch to the back of his neck as he tried to convince the child that the mashed peas were edible.

It was soft, tender, and far more intimate than anything John and Sherlock ever shared, and he found himself fixating on that single moment, unable to let it go.

"Hey, how's my girl?"

"She refuses to eat the peas. Why won't she eat the peas, John? She's hungry, yet she won't eat. It's not logical-"

"She's not even three months yet Sherlock, I don't think she's got a lot of logic yet."

"But she's hungry-"

"And she takes after you. She's bored, play with her." Sherlock frowned at the brightly coloured spoon in his hand, uncertain what John was saying. John huffed a laugh, taking a seat beside Sherlock and taking the spoon.

Watching John with Rosie reminded Sherlock just how much he cared for the older man.

The soft touches became more frequent, a hand touching an elbow or shoulder in passing. Smiles became less pain-filled and more real. And finally, Sherlock began to feel as though he may have finally gotten his friend back.

He made sure to keep The Work away from John, there was no way the former blogger was ready to return to that life.

Until one night, while they were sitting on the floor of the sitting room, Rosie babbling between them happily, when the door bell rang.

John's eyes met Sherlock's, a mischievous smirk on his lips.

"Single ring."

"Maximum pressure just under the half second."

"Client!" John grinned brightly as he hurried to his feet, lifting his child along with him. He winced as his knees popped in protest.

"Getting too old for that, eh Bumble?" He motioned for the door, his eyes sparkling as he made his way to Mrs. Hudson's flat. "You get the door, I'll see if Mrs. H can take Rosie for a while."

Sherlock lost himself in the case, forgetting about everything that had happened between himself and John as they settled back into their old routine.

Working alongside John felt right, it felt safe, and several times Sherlock found himself watching the other man, his heart beating too fast, as it always had around him, since the day they had met.

He had known the suspect had anger issues, but had honestly not seen the fist until after it had connected with his cheekbone.

Now, he was perched on the rim of the bathtub, wincing and trying to pull away as John treated the scrape.

"You know, for a genius, you really are an idiot." John mumbled, rolling his eyes as Sherlock yelped again. "Oh calm down, it's not that bad!"

"It hurts!"

"You know, Rosie sits better than you do."

"Rosamund is a lump John, most lumps sit better than humans." Silence filled the space between them, and Sherlock wondered if he had gone too far. Parent's tended to be sensitive when it came to-

The sound of laughter filled the room, nearly startling Sherlock off his seat.

John was laughing. Not the soft, sad one that become the norm since Mary, but the happy, bright one that Sherlock had fallen in love with their first night together. The one that made his chest swell and forced a smile onto his own cheeks.

It had been years since he had made John laugh like that, and he easily found himself joining his best friend, letting a chuckle escape his chest.

John eventually looked up, wiping moisture out of the corners of his eyes as he grinned up at Sherlock, his eyes glinting like the stars he was so insistent Sherlock know.

Something grew between them, something warm and intense that sent a long-forgotten thrill through Sherlock's body.

John licked his lips in that way he did on the first night, the way he did when he was trying to win over a woman's attentions, and flicked his gaze between Sherlock's lips and eyes, still slightly breathless from laughing.

"Kiss me." It was a whisper, just barely louder than a breath, but it knocked the breath from Sherlock's lungs.

"J-John-" Sherlock's breath caught in his throat as the blogger leaned closer, pressing their foreheads together and sighing.

"Kiss me." Sherlock obeyed this time, tilting his head and pressing a timid kiss to his blogger's lips.

As their lips met, he let his eyes slide closed, he didn't need to keep them open to know what John's face would look like. He knew every color in his eyes, every faint scar on his cheeks, the one on his eyebrow that you could only see if you were close enough.

He knew what his brow looked like as it furrowed, like he knew it would be, and he could almost feel the blush rising on John's cheeks.

He had thought about this, using data he had gathered from the women John had been with over the years to create what he had imagined being with John would be like.

Logically, he knew he was correct about what John looked like, those little things he had focused on until he knew them by heart, but he hadn't anticipated the emotions that raged through him.

He hadn't expected the thrill that pinched his gut as John deepened the kiss, sighing again as he tangled a hand in his hair.

He hadn't expected the fire that flooded his veins when John moaned softly. He let himself be pulled to his feet, allowing John to lead him into the bedroom.

Sherlock was by no means a virgin, his days in university were littered with one night stands and drunken mistakes. He knew how sex worked, he knew how pleasurable it could be when things went properly.

He didn't anticipate what it would feel like to have John hovering over him, pressing kisses to his chest and neck. John was firm and strong, his fingers tracing soft patterns as he slowly learned every inch of Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock gave himself over to John, letting the man he had loved for so long blur the lines of his reality and send him spiraling over the edge of ecstasy.

Afterwards, as they lay wrapped in each other's arms, a thought made it's way through the haze that had clouded his mind.

"Stars."

"Hmm?"

"Your eyes, they remind me of stars." John's laugh was soft and sleepy, but no less bright for it.

"You know something?" Sherlock hummed in acknowledgement, pressing kisses to John's chest as he started to slowly drift to sleep. "Out of all the stars you see in my eyes, you have always been the brightest." Sherlock couldn't contain the snort of laughter that escaped him at John's line, sending both men into a fit of sleepy giggles.

As Sherlock drifted to sleep, he thought of everything they had been through, all the pain and loneliness they had both suffered to get to this point. Now, he was here, held tightly against John's chest, and for the first time in years, he felt as though they could finally begin to move on.