My son can't be this cute

The sky was just getting bright, and Watson woke up. The warmth behind him made him let out a comfortable sigh. The intimate contact of his skin on the silk sheet felt good.

The person behind him moved, his cold body temperature was warmed by the night, and his toes rubbed against his calf, which made Watson laugh, and said in a hoarse voice, "Are you awake?"

"En." Sherlock responded vaguely, rubbing his nose affectionately against the doctor's back, and his disheveled black hair clung to Watson's neck, a little itchy.

"It's raining." He muttered again, and Watson listened attentively. Yes, it was raining outside the window. At such a hazy moment, the people behind him hugged him, just like in a dream, and the words came out It is very natural.

"Sherlock," he called, and got a sweet answer.

"I love you." He said slowly, feeling the sudden tightness of the other's skin, the corners of his mouth were slightly raised, his right hand covered the other's fingertips, grasped, and held firmly.

"I love you, Sherlock."

The body was gently turned, and the eyes could see the other person's light-colored eyes, which were as beautiful as a cat, staring at him so meticulously, touching his cheek with his right hand, serious and focused, his low voice was like a soft Feathers across my heart.

"I love you, John."

The soft lips kissed himself, Watson smiled lightly, and kissed each other back, the rain outside the window was still falling, but no one cared, they were lying on this big bed, doing things that belonged to two people, just felt good .

The rain lasted until noon. After the two of them came out of the room after taking a shower, Sherlock's parents were gone. They probably went out early in the morning. This made Watson less embarrassed, even though he Fully understand that it is impossible for the other party not to know that they have been tossing in the room all night.

Mrs. Holmes was a good cook, and she left them lunch and a note stating that they had decided to go and see their grandson.

"Mycroft told your parents?" Watson scratched his cheek and asked, he was no longer worried about accepting this question, no matter how ordinary, after all, they were the parents of the two brothers, he thought, even if it was Tomorrow another child popped up and said that it was Mycroft's child. He wouldn't panic anymore. With Sherlock, the doctor's nerves have been exercised very rough, and common sense is completely for being overthrown.

"En." Sherlock just glanced at it and was not interested. He took a sip of the milk and looked satisfied and happy. He didn't have the usual sharpness at all. Watson didn't know if it was because of himself or because of Sherlock. go home.

"You seem very happy." He still asked, if this is John Watson's strength, if there is something to hide, ask openly, if you don't know, you don't know, if you are curious, you are curious, It wasn't awkward at all, which Sherlock greatly appreciated.

"Yes." Sherlock curled up his lips, lowered his head and kissed the doctor's lips, um, a milk-flavored kiss, the doctor laughed, and put his arms around the other's neck to deepen the kiss.

After lunch, there was nothing to do, and it was impossible to stay in the house, or, um, on the bed all the time. Thinking of these, Watson's face flushed a little, and he raised his hand and patted himself to wake himself up.

"Go for a walk, John," suggested Sherlock, looking at him with those light eyes that seemed to have light, gentle, cheerful Sherlock, and Watson nodded, showing a wide smile.

It was still raining lightly, and the leaden gray sky did not make people feel uncomfortable, because it was not yet the season, and the scenery on the farm was not very beautiful, but neither of them felt bored, and occasionally there would be one or two passers-by, whom they did not know But they can say hello to each other. Watson likes this kind of life, which is leisurely and natural.

"Like?" Sherlock seemed to be able to understand what Watson was thinking. The doctor smiled and nodded.

Sherlock looked ahead, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, "Let's come here from now on." Watson froze for a moment, a little surprised, did Sherlock really say this?

The dark-haired man turned his head to look at each other, his light-colored eyes seemed to sparkle, and he said calmly, "It's good to live here, John."

"I thought you would want to live on Baker Street for the rest of your life." Watson scratched his cheek, but he didn't really care where he lived, it was all the same anyway, where there was Sherlock, there was John Watson.

Sherlock didn't answer, just took his hand out of his pocket, his slender fingers looked even whiter in the air, his light eyes looked at his doctor, he didn't say anything until that warm and generous hand put into his palm.

"John, I only do what I want to do." So it's not a compromise, not a grievance, but what I want to do. He doesn't need to say these words, and the people he loves can understand, just like when they first met Sometimes, he praised himself, his delighted eyes and the smile at the corner of his mouth. No one is more suitable for him than John Watson, and no one can make Sherlock love him more than anything else.

"Sherlock, I think there's something I probably never told you."

"What?" asked the detective curiously.

"That's why I sometimes think you're really cute, Sherlock." Watson said with a smile, and sure enough, he heard his boyfriend's rebuttal the next moment.

"I'm not cute, John, don't say that about me."

"Let's go, Sherlock, take me to the place where you used to stay, I want to know more about you." Watson shook their hands and said in a low voice.

"You already have my future," Sherlock grunted.

"Then I'm going to dig out your past too."

"That's nothing." Sherlock said in a low voice, as if he was hiding something, Watson didn't intend to let him go, he licked his lips and said, "What are you hiding, Sherlock, and I really want to know .”

"It's nothing." Sherlock was still stubborn, but he didn't dare to look at Watson.

"Let me think about it." Watson squeezed Sherlock's fingers, and he said slowly: "Except that at the age of seven, I still believed in Santa Claus and stole Mycroft's red socks and hung them on the chimney. And what else is there to be frustrated about not finding a present there the next day."

Sherlock's eyes widened, and soon, he frowned, and said affirmatively, "Mycroft told you."

"Whoever told me, I already know a lot of your secrets, including when you were teased at school for looking like a girl, you ran home crying and made Mycroft swear Forget about it."

"He broke the agreement!" Sherlock growled, looking as if he wanted to fight Mycroft, and Watson patted him on the shoulder amusedly.

"Relax, Sherlock, that's not what Mycroft told me."

"It's Mummy." Sherlock said gloomily. He knew that the other party must be hiding behind the door at that time. Mycroft also assured him that Mummy was preparing dinner in the kitchen. That fat man was really unreliable since he was a child.

"She loves you." Watson smiled. He blinked and added, "But also loves your little secret."

"I have to find your sister Harley." Sherlock muttered, but Watson was not afraid, and said frankly, "I don't need Harley, I believe you know everything about me."

Sherlock smiled, "John, I'm not a god, so it's impossible for me to know about your childhood for no reason."

"As long as you want, you can." Watson said firmly, and his words made Sherlock feel happy. He raised the corners of his lips and took Watson's hand and walked forward.

"So, John, welcome to my world."

"My pleasure."