John stared down at the frame in his hands. It was a picture of himself and Sherlock, mid-snog, standing on the Pont des Arts after having secured their love lock. He had to admit for a candid shot, the picture quality was exquisite. He figured it would be just their luck that a French photography enthusiast who also happened to be a fan of Sherlock Holmes would be hanging out on that same bridge as them, on the same day. The fact that the young man had opted to send them the photo via email rather than sell it to a tabloid was also hard to believe. The entire thing reeked of Mycroft, but John decided not to question it. It was a lovely picture after all, and he was glad to have it.

John heard footsteps as ending the stairs, and placed the photo back onto the mantle before turning to greet Sherlock as he came in. His face was flushed and his hair was messier than usual, both indications that he'd been under stress recently. Going by the menacing look in his eyes and the way his mouth was set, John guessed he'd just returned from a meeting with Mycroft.

"What did he do or say this time?" He asked, heading towards the kitchen to begin making Sherlock a much needed cuppa. Sherlock appeared moments later with a scowl on his face and a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Your brother. That's who you've just seen, correct?"

"Correct," Sherlock murmured, staring at John as if he was a new species of human that had just been discovered. "How did you know?" John shrugged, and he turned to face Sherlock, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't know. Maybe your powers of observation are finally rubbing off on me." There was a wicked gleam in Sherlock's eyes as he bent down to kiss John, pulling back to gently brush his lips against his.

"Soon that won't be the only thing rubbing off on you." John laughed and pushed Sherlock away so he could tend to the tea. Sherlock left to remove his coat and scarf, and John carried the tea into the sitting room.

"I'm going to Greece." John paused in his movements, but recovered quickly and handed Sherlock his cup. He settled down beside Sherlock on the sofa and took a quick sip of his own tea.

"What for?"

"Mycroft needs me to retrieve some documents from an informant there. Apparently I'm the only person he trusts with the job." John took a sip as he stared up at Sherlock, whose eyes were glued to the mantle over the fireplace.

"When are we leaving?" Sherlock bit his lip and looked down; A nervous habit, John had learned. That couldn't be good. "What?"

"It will only be me going I'm afraid. Apparently it's been requested that I travel alone." John fought to keep his face straight and attempted to shrug nonchalantly.

"Alright then. How long will you be gone?" Sherlock sighed as he sat down beside John and stretched his legs out in front of him.

"That is unknown. You see, this informant is a criminal investigator in Greece. In return for the documents he's asked for help on his most difficult case. The sooner I solve the case the sooner I get the documents and can return home to you."

"Well you better solve that case quickly then," John said, reaching over to pat Sherlock's knee. Sherlock sighed and burrowed into John, curling his legs beneath himself and resting his head on John's shoulder.

"This is completely unfair. We've been married for only a month and already we're going to be separated."

"We are not going to be separated. You are simply going away for a bit to work. Everything will be fine." Sherlock took a sip of his tea and nestled further into John, who wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. Sherlock only got this cuddly when he was agitated or otherwise upset and needed comforting, and John was always happy to oblige no matter what his own mood was.

"When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"Alright then, I've got nothing planned for tomorrow, so I can go with you to the airport to give you a proper send off." Sherlock groaned and John felt him shake his head.

"Unnecessary." John pulled back and frowned. Was the idea of going with Sherlock to the airport really unecessary? Especially since he didn't know when Sherlock would be returning? He opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock cut him off by turning his head and pressed his lips against John's. John raised a hand to Sherlock's cheek and he pulled away, smirking at John as his eyes bore into his. John could see the the crease forming between his brows, and he understood all that Sherlock was telling him.

"We can skype," he offered. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but otherwise made no other sound or movement. John shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and his movement was restricted by Sherlock's arms wrapped around him. "Or ... not. If you'll be too busy."

"I'm sure I could make time for you."

"Alright," John said, shifting again. "Glad to hear it." He extricated himself from Sherlock's embrace and went into the kitchen. His stomach had been rumbling for quite a while now; He was surprised Sherlock hadn't commented on it. After several minutes of fruitless searching, Sherlock materialised beside John and peered over his shoulder at the poorly stocked cupboard in front of them.

"I suppose we'll be having takeaway tonight," he said, reaching into John's pocket to retrieve his cell phone. John grabbed his wrist and stopped him, and Sherlock let out a light huff before pulling his hand out. John turned around to face him.

"We're going out."

"But-"

"I don't want to hear it. You're leaving tomorrow and I don't know when I'll see you again after that."

"John you're making it seem like-"

"Put your coat on." John used his most commanding tone of voice, which he knew Sherlock would respond to immediately. He wasn't sure how or why it worked, but the minute the words had left John's mouth Sherlock had begun moving towards where his coat was hanging by the door. John smiled to himself and followed after him.

They ended up having dinner at Angelo's, then walked back to Baker Street. By the time they reached the bedroom John was too tired to even bother changing into his pyjamas. The last thing he remembered before drifting off to sleep was feeling Sherlock climbing into bed and curling up against his side.

When he woke up Sherlock was gone. The flat was empty, and very quiet. It was strange, John thought as he was making tea, that even when Sherlock was home the flat wasn't usually much noisier than this. However, John felt as if the silence would drive him mad by the time Sherlock returned.

John booted up his laptop and checked Skype to see if Sherlock was online. It was highly unlikely, he knew, but he figured it couldn't hurt to check. There was no green dot beside Sherlock's name, so John closed his laptop and went to have a shower.

He decided to go for a walk to try and keep his mind off of Sherlock's absence. He spent some time at a local pub, but found it hard to focus on the football game they were showing. All he could think about was Sherlock and wonder when he would see his face again. Twenty four hours hadn't even passed since he'd last seen Sherlock and he was already missing him like crazy.

John logged into Skype again when he returned, and smiled when he saw that Sherlock was in fact online. He received a call from him almost as soon as he logged in; Sherlock had been waiting for him.

He pressed 'accept' and then Sherlock's face was on his screen. He looked as perfect as ever, even with the low quality video feed. To anyone else his face would have appeared to be blank, but John could see the annoyance and frustration showing on his features.

"Hello," John said smiling. He couldn't let Sherlock see how upset he was when he was already apparently in a bad mood. Still, John's smile didn't seem to affect him and he sighed.

"I want to come back."

"But you've just gotten there, haven't you?" Sherlock gave him a look that made him feel like an ignorant child and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, and?" John shrugged, picking up the laptop and carrying it into the kitchen. "What are you doing?"

"I want tea." John set Sherlock down on the counter beside the kettle and set about making himself a cuppa. "Now, what is it that's happened that's got you all upset and wanting to come home?"

"Nothing happened. I just don't want to be here. It's too hot and these people are all idiots and the case is equal amounts tiresome and frustrating."

"What do you mean?"

"Three men were found dead, strangled, in three different areas of town. The time of death for all three men has been determined to be the same, meaning that even though the method used to kill them all is the same, it's obvious it wasn't the same person doing it."

"Maybe they moved the bodies around after killing them?"

"No, two men had their necks snapped. If they'd been moved at all we'd be able to tell." John grabbed a cup from a cupboard overhead and poured himself some tea. He leaned against the counter and took a sip.

"Alright, sounds like a tough one. But you'll solve it. You always do." Sherlock sighed and looked directly into the camera, so that it seemed he was looking right at John.

"This would be a lot easier if you were here." John started to question why that would be, but realized that must just be Sherlock-speak for 'I miss you' and closed his mouth. He picked up his laptop and balanced it on one arm while carrying his tea cup into the sitting room. John say on the sofa and propped the laptop on his knee. Sherlock had been silent the entire time, and when John looked down he saw that Sherlock's head was turned. His lips were moving, but John heard nothing. Sherlock must have muted himself. John sipped his tea and waited for Sherlock to finish speaking to whoever is in the room with him, and when Sherlock finally came off mute John's tea was long gone.

"That was Sergeant Lerwick. The informant. Apparently I'm needed." He sighed heavily and covered his face with his hands. John could see how upset he was, and it hurt that there was nothing he could do about it.

"It's alright. Just remember, the sooner you solve it the sooner you'll be back here." Sherlock's hands slid from his face and he nodded, staring into the camera again.

"I suppose you're right." His eyes darted to the side before he leaned in close. "I love you."

"Love you too. Go solve me a crime, Sherlock Watson-Holmes."

Sherlock smiled. It was a genuine smile that brightened his face and made his eyes crinkle. It was the last thing John saw before the screen went blank, and he was alone once again. The flat was eerily quiet. John turned on the telly to drown out the silence.

As the days went by, John became more and more distressed by Sherlock's absence. He'd stopped working at the surgery to be a full time partner (in more ways than one) to Sherlock, and thus had nothing to do during the day to keep himself occupied and keep his mind off of how much he missed his husband.

One evening while he was watching crap telly and drowning his sorrows in tea, he heard the doorbell ring. His heart was pounding as he went down the stairs, the tea and television long forgotten.

He opened the door with a smile on his face, and his smile fell when he saw not Sherlock standing before him but Victor.

"Um ... hello." Victor smiled warmly at him.

"Hello John. Is Sherlock home?" John tried not to let his disappointment show on his face when he shook his head. Victor seemed to have noticed it though, because his brow furrowed. "Oh, have you ... is everything alright? He's not gone because you've had a domestic is he?"

"What? No. He's ... working. In Greece. Has been for the past week or so." Victor nodded his head and clasped his hands behind his back, and John wondered if he should invite him inside. "Would you like to-"

"Yes, thank you." John stepped aside and allowed Victor to come in, then closed the door and followed him up the stairs. Victor paused in the middle of the room and looked around, taking in his surroundings. John realized this was in fact his first time in Baker Street. While Victor examined the sitting room, John's eyes raked over his immaculate appearance. He was in a perfectly tailoured navy suit with a crisp white shirt. His shoes were so shiny John was sure he could see his own reflection in them. His auburn hair was perfectly coiffed and the waves of his hair seemed as if they'd been sculpted rather than just slicked back with what John was sure was a very expensive hair product. He looked exactly like the type of person Sherlock would be friends with. John began to wonder what Sherlock was doing settling down with such an average, everyday bloke like himself.

"Would you like some tea? I made some not too long ago and it's still hot."

"Sure. I'll get it myself, don't you worry."

"Oh, you're a guest-"

"It's fine. You sit down and rest. You look tired." John opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He didn't feel very tired. Perhaps Sherlock's absence was taking a toll on his physical appearance as well as his emotional well being. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room while Victor poured himself some tea. Luckily, Victor hadn't grabbed Sherlock's cup. John wasn't sure how he would have reacted if he had.

When Victor came into the sitting room he took a seat at the table in the middle of the room. John took a seat across from him, and they talked for a while. John learned that Sherlock and Victor had in fact been very close friends in the past, but had had a falling out several years after leaving university. He wouldn't tell John what had happened, but John wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know.

Victor was a rather pleasant person to be around, John learned. Despite the fact that for some reason he really didn't want to like him, Victor was kind, polite, very well educated, and witty. The conversation had been amiable, but when he left John breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be alone again.

Well, until he realized that being alone meant being without Sherlock.

Sherlock! He and John had usually talked on skype by now, but John had completely forgotten the minute his eyes had landed on Victor. He rushed to his laptop and turned it on. Of course, the minute he logged on he got a call from Sherlock.

"I'm so sorry I'm late I was-"

"Was it Mycroft?" Sherlock's face was completely blank. There were no traces of anger in his eyes, and for that John was glad. He relaxed a bit and shook his head.

"No. Victor, actually." Sherlock's eyebrows shot up and disappeared behind his fringe.

"Victor? What was he doing there?"

"He came to see you. I told him you were in Greece. Then we had tea." Sherlock sat back a bit, and John could see the traces of a frown on his lips. "He didn't use your cup, if that's what you're worried about." Sherlock's mouth opened, then closed. He sighed.

"What did you talk about?"

"Nothing, really. He told me some things about your time in university. I told him some stuff about our honeymoon. He wasn't here for long."

"Alright then." Sherlock leaned forward and rested his chin in his hand. Several moments of silence passed with them just staring at their screens. This was different, John thought. Usually they talked the entire time they were on Skype. He hoped Sherlock's silence wasn't something to be too concerned with.

"How far have you come with the case?" Sherlock sighed and looked down. John took that as a 'not very far'. "Well, I know you'll get it eventually."

"Yes, yes, I know." Sherlock sighed and ran his hands over his face. "I just ... I just want to be done with it now. It's bad enough having an unsolved case, but it's even worse being away from you as well." John's lips twisted into a sad smile. Sherlock smiled back and shrugged.

They didn't stay on much longer, because Sherlock had a meeting with a member of the team working on the case with him. When John went to bed that night, he slept on Sherlock's pillow. He fell asleep breathing in the scent of Sherlock's shampoo.

Sherlock ended up staying in Greece for another two weeks. They talked every day on Skype, whether it be for hours or mere minutes. These conversations had become the highlight of John's day, but each time he logged off he felt worse than he had before speaking to Sherlock. He had no idea it was possible to miss someone so much.

At least Sherlock didn't seem to be as miserable as he was. Each time they talked he seemed to be closer to solving the case, and thus always looked that much happier when he appeared on John's laptop screen. Still, John wished he could see that face in person.

When he got the text from Sherlock that he was on his way to the airport, John immediately felt ten pounds lighter. There was a spring in his step when he went down to Tesco to get supplies for Sherlock's 'Welcome Home' dinner. He hadn't been allowed to make Sherlock's departure special, but there was no way Sherlock could stop him from indulging in the joy of his return.

John was just putting the finishing up with the chicken stir fry meal when he heard the door open. His heart skipped a beat and he turned off the stove before heading over to the door. He had to be careful, as the only light in the room came from the candles that John had placed. He figured it would help 'set the mood', as if they ever needed help in that area.

Sherlock walked into the room, holding two suitcases, and took a look around. His face was expressionless, but John knew better than to take that as a bad sign. Sherlock placed his suitcases down beside him and his eyes landed on John.

"You weren't at the airport." John's face fell.

"I ... what?"

"When I got off the plane. I was expecting you to be there. You weren't." John's heart sank to his stomach when he saw the hurt look on Sherlock's face. Of course he would have wanted him there. It was obvious on the first day that Sherlock had missed him. It only made sense that they should be reunited as soon as possible. John sighed and shrugged.

"Well you ... you didn't want me going with you to the airport. I figured ... "

"I didn't want a drawn out goodbye. I'm not overly fond of being away from you and I was hoping ..."

"Oh, Sherlock I'm sorry. I promise next time I'll be waiting for you at the airport with a bouquet of roses and a big sloppy kiss." Sherlock made a disgusted face and John had to actively fight against laughing.

"Oh, John, even if there was going to be a next time there would be no need for that."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how I feel about -"

"No, no. What do you mean about there being no next time?"

"Oh. I mean just that. I am never going anywhere without you ever again. Your absence serves as a distraction to my thinking and takes a toll on my emotional well being as well."

"Is that your way of saying you missed me?" Sherlock responded by cupping John's face in his hands and kissing him fiercely, only pulling away when both men were nearly breathless. John stared up at him with wide unblinking eyes and his tongue darted out to swipe across his lips, savouring the familiar taste of Sherlock that lingered there. "I didn't know you were so ... affected. I mean, you seemed okay."

"I'll have you know I happen to be a fantastic actor."