You enter the flat and see Sherlock lying on the couch, clearly exhausted after his long discussion with his somewhat irritating brother. You glance at him.

"Mycroft's gone?"

You ask, which initially gains a sigh from Sherlock.

"Yeah, he told me to say Hello."

You nod, content and head into the kitchen to begin cooking the soup. While humming 'It's Friday and I'm in Love', you feel Sherlock's eyes on you while deep in thought. You smile.

"Take a photo, it'll last longer."

He sighed again, rising and heading to his bedroom. You smile again, while raising a large knife above a large joint of lamb.

"Gets him every time."

You let out a laugh while slamming the knife down on the piece of meat.

You sigh contentedly once the soup and lamb is cooking and head to the shower, with all of your clothes, minus the underwear, which tend to make you feel uncomfortable. You turn the water faucet and let the water warm up. A knock at the door grasps your attention.

"_? Are you in there?"

"Yes? Could it wait until I'm done?"

"No!"

He coughed and you stand stunned at his sudden voice raise.

"I mean- No, please. It's important."

You sigh and turn off the water. Tossing your hair back and pulling it into a hair tie, you slide into a purple satin bathrobe. You open the door, noticing the messiness and restlessness about the man you've known for years.

"Sherlock, are you alright?"

You're stopped by a stare from Sherlock. Not another word was said until you were led to Sherlock's bedroom. Sherlock motions towards the armchair.

"Sit."

He keeps his eyes down at the ground, not daring to look up for an instant. He sat opposite you, sitting silent for a long time.

"_. For a long time, I have been thinking. About you. And I believe that I'm in love with you."

You stare at him, wide-eyed. He looks at you, like a scolded puppy.

"How long?"

He sighs.

"Since I first met you. I'm sorry."

You shake your head no. You take his hand into your own, gently pushing your lips to his knuckles, not knowing how else to respond to his confession. You feel him squeeze your hand.

"You… You love me back, don't you?"

You're silent. You have never thought of him as anything more than a close friend, someone you could fool around with, however, as you both grew up, you found the relationship and his treatment of you alter into something you couldn't recognize.

"Sherlock, darling. I don't know. This is such a sudden thing. I'll tell you how I feel soon, when I've thought about it, alright?"

He nods, looking down at the floor again. You rise and plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, sweetheart. I'll see you in a while, alright? I have to shower."

He nods again, looking into your eyes, looking like he's been hit. His face is red. It dawns on you that you've never seen him this vulnerable. You sigh, overcome by guilt. Your feelings for Sherlock were a mystery to you. Once in the shower, you toss your hair back, washing you worries away momentarily.

Once dinner was over, you go to your room, bidding goodnight to Watson. Upon entering and shutting the door, you see a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the window, taking a large bite out of an apple.