His kisses we soft and gentle, starting around John's still peaked nipples and moving down the sparsely haired chest, over his stomach, and down the small trail of curly hair that led from his belly to the next of hair between his legs.

Sherlock nuzzled into it, taking in his musky scent, it was tea and antiseptic and wool sweaters and JOHN.

It was all John.

He groaned softly at the smell, unconsciously rubbing his still clothed length against the bed, rutting as he used every single one of his senses to catalog John.