John leaving soft little kisses on Sherlock’s forehead in the morning before going to clinic and Sherlock tugging at his shirt and mumbling to stay him for a bit more . So John lies beside him until he falls asleep again and then leaves for the clinic and then he can’t even concentrate in there because all he can think about s the crinkle in his shirt where Sherlock grabbed him in the morning and there is this stupid grin on his face the whole day. And then there is a text on his phone : “Why is there no scientific way of wearing a particular scent as perfume. I wanna wear you the whole day. Needs some research. - SHW”
John just smiles fondly and maybe blushes a little at the text and then sun reflects on the gold band of his ring finger he feels content like never before.
“I’ve seen ye so many times,“ he said, his voice whispering warm in my ear. "You’ve come to me so often. When I dreamed sometimes.When I lay in fever. When I was so afraid and so lonely I knew I must die. When I needed you, I would always see ye, smiling, with your hair curling up about your face. But ye never spoke. And ye never touched me.” “I can touch you now.” I reached up and drew my hand gently down his temple, his ear, the cheek and jaw that I could see. My hand went to the nape of his neck, under the clubbed bronze hair, and he raised his head at last, and cupped his face between my hands, love glowing strong in the dark blue eyes. “Dinna be afraid,” he said softly, “There’s the two of us now.”