Many emotions were running wild inside Jim right now. He was excited. He was scared. He was worried. He was overjoyed. He was embarrassed, and hopeful, and nervous.

The pathway up to the building his parents called home was both too long and too short. He wanted to be there right now, introducing Sherlock to his parents and yet he wanted to walk slowly and take a breather to prepare himself.

Apparently Sherlock could sense his nerves because as they walk the detective takes hold of Jim's hand and gives it a squeeze, sending him a small smile too. Jim smiles back, his fingers locking tightly with Sherlock's in both an attempt to contain his nerves and to contain his excitement.

Jim was so busy looking at his gorgeous boyfriend that he almost walked into the front door, not realising that they'd already got there. Sherlock chuckles at him, earning himself an elbow in the side. As Sherlock yelps and rubs his side, Jim lets go of the other's hand to knock on the door.

When the door opens, Jim, as he expected, is pulled into a bone crushing hug before he even gets the chance to see his mother properly. When she releases him, much to his horror, she turns to Sherlock to do the same to him and even presses a small kiss on his cheek.

Oh, God. She was out to completely embarrass him, wasn't she?

"Mum..." Jim whines as a shocked looking Sherlock is released.

"Sorry," Elizabeth murmurs, even though she's not, before offering her hand to Sherlock. "Hello, Sherlock. It's nice to meet you. Jim's told me lots about you."

"I haven't," Jim protests but goes ignored by both.

"Good things, I hope," Sherlock smiles, going for charming rather than his usual bitchy self. Maybe next time he can show a bit more sass.

"Oh, the best," Elizabeth laughs before gesturing over her shoulder to Jim's dad who stood in the door way. "That's Jeremy and I'm Elizabeth. None of this Mr and Mrs Moriarty business, okay, makes me feel old."

Sherlock chuckles softly and nods. "Alright, Elizabeth."

Then she turns to Jim and stage-whispers "This one's a keeper,"

Jim groans and drags a hand over his face, wondering if it was too soon to grab Sherlock and their bags and to just turn back and spread the weekend wrapped up in Sherlock's arms and the bed. Even if he wanted to show Sherlock that he cared, he wasn't up for his mother's teasing all weekend.

They enter the house and Elizabeth walks with them up to Jim's old room, where he quickly snatches some posters off the wall and shoves them under the bed while Sherlock talks to his mother. She makes a comment about no 'frickle frackle' while they're here before leaving them to sort out their clothes.

Sighing, Jim leans into Sherlock's shoulder and just stays there, body limp. "We've been here for less than twenty minutes and she's already being embarrassing."

Sherlock's lips brush against Jim's forehead. "She's not bad. You're overreacting," He laughs and Jim gives a mock gasp of offence. "Now, I have a serious question."

Jim grows serious as Sherlock does. He nods. "Go on."

"What exactly did you hide under the bed?" Sherlock asks, smirking and loses his serious expression completely.

Jim feels his cheeks redden considerably. "Um, just a few posters of this celebrity..."

"Adorable," Sherlock murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before he turns and begins to sort their clothes into the draws.

Sherlock doesn't ask of who and Jim just assume that he knows, being the clever thing he is.

Jim sits on the bed, enjoying watching Sherlock bend over to scoop up the clothes. How he got so God damn lucky, Jim will never know. Sherlock's smart, gorgeous, charming, sweet when it counts and funny. The full package.

"Enjoying the view?" Sherlock asks as he bends down again, wiggling his arse a little.

"Definitely," Jim hums with a smile.

"Sorry, your mother said no frickle frackle," Sherlock laughs, making Jim groan and fall backwards on the bed (which makes Sherlock giggle some more).

Before long, they find themselves downstairs again. Jim's mum has disappeared into the art room and Jim guesses they were going to be dragged in there very soon. For now, though, they sit at the breakfast counter in the kitchen and tea drink, making conversation with his dad.

Shockingly, Sherlock knew about some of the football stuff his dad mentioned. Jim had found it hard not to gape. Sherlock had glances at him with a look that told Jim it was a case/work reason he had this information.

Another thing that surprised Jim was when his mother emerges from the art room after an hour and doesn't drag them in. Well, they had the rest of the weekend. She doesn't embarrass him too much and before long they've all talked away hours. They were all very comfortable and Jim felt like they were already a little family.

As always, his dad goes for takeaway. The first and last days of Jim's visits are always takeaway nights. They go for a Chinese and while Jeremy is gone, Elizabeth pulls out a selection of scary movies and scrabble.

She places them on the table and Sherlock leans forward, raising an eyebrow.

"We have a choice?" He guesses.

Elizabeth chuckles and Jim sinks into the sofa, wishing it could swallow him up and make him disappear.

"No. Scrabbles for after. Or Jim will be frightened all night and won't sleep. You haven't watched a scary movie together yet?" She frowns a little before winking at Jim.

He mumbles something inaudible. Had she heard, he'd have got a flick round the ear.

"No. If we do watch films, they're usually comedies," Sherlock explains.

"Well, prepare to have Jim hide behind you and latch on like a koala."

Smiling, Sherlock's hand settles on Jim's knee as he catches his eye. "I can handle it."

Jim was torn between 'awh'ing and hitting him. In the end, he just smiles a little while his mother gushes about how adorable they are. She quickly turns to put the DVD in and while she does, Sherlock steals a kiss. That just makes Jim smile. He felt like a teenager all over again. Bringing the boyfriend home and having him steal kisses behind the parent's backs.

Half an hour later, Jim was no longer smiling. He was digging his nails into Sherlock's arm, clutching his bowl of Chinese food and unable to peel his eyes away from the screen.

"No. Idiot left the door open," Jim murmurs. "Oh, God. She's going to be brutally murdered. I can't look. I can't look. I can not look," Despite his protests, Jim continues to watch as the blonde girl walks slowly around the house, breathing down the phone to her friend.

Sherlock's shoulders shake in a silent chuckle but he happily sets his left hand in top of Jim's. Once the food disappears, they shift so Jim's head is on Sherlock's shoulder and Sherlock has an arm wrapped protectively around Jim. If he weren't so focused on the movie, Jim might have seen the proud glances he received from his parents.

The killer approaches, on screen, lifting his knife. Jim buries his face in Sherlock's chest as there's a chilling cry of agony from the main character. When Jim looks up, the killer is staring right at him from the screen.

'You're next,' He whispers before the credits roll.

He knows it shouldn't freak him out so much but it really did. He's shaking slightly as he clutches onto Sherlock. He only releases his grip slightly when his mum turns the light on.

She gives Jim a sympathetic smile before setting up scrabble.

They play until Jim can barely keep his eyes open. Then they all exchange their goodnights and head to bed. Sherlock and Jim drift off right away, making a few comments about how well today went before snores filled their room.

The next night passes in the same way. A movie, scrabble and then bed. Except this time, Sherlock and Jim weren't so sleepy and were laying awake, cuddled together. Jim held one of Sherlock's hand in his right hand, using his left to draw random patterns with his finger.

"It was nice of your mum to let us in the art room," Sherlock says, using the arm he had around Jim's shoulders to squeeze slightly.

"I'm not surprised. I expected us to be dragged in on the first day here," Jim shrugs before looking up at Sherlock. He arches his neck to kiss Sherlock. "I'm glad you're here with me. Thank you. I know that this... normal family stuff is kind of boring to you."

Sherlock shakes his head. "Don't thank me. And this isn't boring at all. I want to be a part of your life and I'm more than happy to be here, meeting your parents. Who cares if it's 'normal'? I want to be with you and do all this 'boring, normal family stuff',"

Jim just kisses him again. Sherlock hums but pulls back before Jim could deepen the kiss. His eyes pierce Jim's and he smiles, hands moving to cup Jim's face.

"I love you," He murmurs.

Both of their eyes widen, neither having expected the words to slip out. Jim freezes, staring at Sherlock. When Jim doesn't say anything for a few moments too long, Sherlock's hands drop and he looks to the side so Jim can't look into his eyes.

"James, I'm-"

Jim stops him before he can get any further. He takes hold of Sherlock's chin and forces him to look at him. "Don't you dare say you're sorry," He orders, sternly. Then all signs of aggression fades and he rolls so he could kiss Sherlock easier.

"Because..." He says between a kiss, trailing off a little, "I love you, Sherlock and don't want you to be sorry for feeling the same," He whispers words against his lips.

Sherlock's breathing hitches, in both relief and surprise. No more words are exchanged as they press kiss after kiss to each other's lips.

Jim's heart beats steadily in his chest, but the rate at which it beats shoots up. Occasionally, he feels his heart stutter from the raw emotion running through him.

Jim feels moisture collect in his eyes as they kiss.

He has to pull back and wipes his eyes. He laughs at himself, feeling a tad pathetic. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Sherlock smiles and kisses Jim's nose.

Jim wrinkles his face up, making Sherlock laugh.

It may not have been an incredibly emotional talk and they may not have gave detailed descriptions of how they felt or why and there was no dramatic build ups or moments where one of them ran off before the words could be returned and there was no flowers or gifts or whatever else people seem to produce when declaring their love, but it still felt utterly perfect to Jim.