A/N Hey My Lovelies!!! Hope you guys are enjoying this! It's kinda fun to write lol. Anyways, here is another chapter!!! Not gonna lie....I kinda have a weakness for BAMF John ;) hence the last chapter lol...Enjoy<3

Sherlock had a concussion, three cracked ribs and a laceration on his stomach that required stitches. It also turned out that the great Mr. Sherlock Holmes was one of the worst patients John had ever seen. Once he woke up, he immediately started whining and throwing a tantrum of epic proportions.

After Sherlock made a third nurse cry, John insisted that they let him take the young man home. He showed his credentials and convinced the staff that he was more than capable of handling the petulant man on his own.

He helped Sherlock limp to the curb and hailed a cab. Sherlock told the driver the address and John checked the bandages on the laceration. The whole ride home, Sherlock's hands kept wandering too far up John's thigh, pulling at his shirt and trying to unbuckle his belt.

"Sherlock, stop."

"But John-"

"No. We are almost to your flat, then you need to rest." Sherlock protested, nuzzling his face against John's neck and sucking on the skin there. John pushed him off gently and helped him out of the now-stopped cab. "Do you have your keys?"

"No. I must have dropped them." Sherlock mumbled, stumbling to the black door and pounding on it. "My Landlady should be home." Sure enough, the door swung open to reveal a sweet older lady.

"Sherlock? Oh dear! What happened?"

"Mrs. Hudson. I've lost my key; will you please ensure my door is unlocked?"

"Of course, Dear. How on Earth did you manage to lose another key?"

"I'm sorry, I must have dropped it while I was being assaulted in the fucking alley!"

"Stop with the attitude or I will leave you out here to freeze." Mrs. Hudson finally seemed to notice John, waving the boys in and leading them up the stairs. "Good to finally meet you Captain." John flushed darkly as he realized that the lady knew who he was.

"Y-You know me?"

"Oh, yes dear, Sherlock is very open about his work. Came down to my apartment all in a flurry when he was slotted to work with you last month. Made me sit through one of your shorter videos." John's cheeks burned hotter than ever.

"Please shut up, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock looked as embarrassed as John felt as he stumbled into his flat.

"I'll make you some tea-"

"No, thank you Mrs. Hudson, we will be quite alright."

"Alright Dears, just call if you need anything."

"Thought you weren't my housekeeper?"

"I'm not, but I am the only person in this house that seems to know anything about hospitality." She snapped before leaving, Sherlock latched the door behind her, before spinning to face John.

John had to catch him before he hit the floor.

"Jesus, Sherlock." He propped the lanky man against the door, taking care to avoid jostling his ribs. Sherlock leaned against him, pulling him close and latching on to John's pulse point, biting and sucking hard. It took all his willpower to pull himself out of Sherlock's grasp. "Sherlock, come on. Let's get you to bed." He batted the pale man's hands away from his trousers and slipped under his arm, trying to haul the pile of limbs towards the bedroom.

"But John, I have been looking forward to fucking you all week-"

"I know, but you can't. Not with three broken ribs and a concussion-" His words were cut short as Sherlock spun him around and pinned him against the nearest wall. He winced as his head struck the unforgiving surface, but any protest he may have had was kissed away by the skilled lips of Sherlock Holmes.

He had almost forgotten how good the other man was at kissing. He was just about to lose himself in the feel of Sherlock when his mind was snapped back to reality as his fingers caught on the bandages covering the pale, broken ribs. He forced Sherlock off him, holding him at arms length while he fought to catch his breath.

"John-"

"No Sherlock. No, we- we can't." The pale man blushed, stepping back slightly. John watched hurt fill the pale eyes of his friend.

"I understand. Thank you for your assistance Mr. Watson." He started to turn away, promptly tripping on the carpet and nearly falling. John caught him by the arm and spun them around, this time, Sherlock was the one pinned.

"No, you stupid git. I never said I didn't want to, because God, I do." He was still slightly breathless and couldn't resist leaning in and kissing the younger man's pale neck. "You have a minor concussion, three broken ribs and an open wound. Sex will cause more harm than good."

"There are positions that-"

"Sherlock!" John pulled out his Captain's voice and instantly saw the change in the young man's demeanor. "I can't put you through that. It will hurt more than necessary and you won't enjoy it. You're already in pain just from a little snogging."

"But-"

"No. I'm taking you to bed, then you are going to get lots of rest. Then, once you've healed, I will let you do whatever you want to me. Deal?" Sherlock's eyes darkened, and he leaned forward, trying to kiss John again. The doctor pushed him back, pulling an irritated whine from the young man. "Deal? If you don't behave I will take sex off the table, understand?" Sherlock froze before nodding, his face darkening. "Understand?"

"Y-Yes John."

"Good enough. Now, come on, lets get you to bed." He pulled Sherlock off the wall and led him down the hall.

He helped the younger man undress and pull on his pajama bottoms before helping him into the bed. He placed some painkillers on his nightstand next to a glass of water before standing up to leave.

"I'll come by and check on you tomorrow."

"Stay." The word was soft, almost inaudible, but it froze John in his tracks.

"Sorry?"

"Stay. Please." He smiled down at the broken man in the bed, running his fingers through the messy curls and nodding.

"Alright. I'll sleep on the sofa, call if you-"

"You can sleep in here. I-If you want." Sherlock sounded like a little boy, embarrassed and unsure.

"I would love too, but I know that if I do, you won't keep your hands to yourself and I don't have the willpower to stop you again." Sherlock grinned up at him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Not until your concussion is gone and your ribs don't hurt as much alright? I'll be fine on the sofa."

"But-"

"Sherlock." He filled his tone with warning and the young man stopped instantly.

"Fine, but if you insist on not sleeping here, there is a spare bedroom just up the stairs. There is lab equipment on the bed, just set it on the floor for now." John nodded and grabbed Sherlock's cell, quickly entering his phone number.

"Sounds good, call or text if you need anything." He was almost out of the room when he heard Sherlock's soft voice calling his name.

"John?"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"Thank you." John smiled fondly at the young man, unable to contain the spark of affection that lit in his chest.

"Goodnight Gorgeous."