A.N.: This is my entry for the Johnlock Gift Exchange on Tumblr, prompt by kavinskysdick.

My prompt was : "Who are you to make me feel so good?/ … / who am I to say I'm always yours?/ who am I to choose the boy that everyone adores.".

Cover by lovely chasingriverson on Tumblr. Once again, thank you sweetie!

-x-

95 minutes and 47 seconds

When it came it, both John and Sherlock had no doubts that quite a few lads back at the NSY would be a few quid richer after they left the crime scene.

They'd been careful ever since the beginning of their relationship. It was something new, fragile and beautiful. Exactly what both thought of each other, but only when their relationship was concerned, because both were well aware that fragile wasn't something that could be applied to either of them. Maybe once it was, but the weight of the pressure to be the perfect son and the pressure to just be normal were things from the past. They were adults, grown man hardened from their life experiences and as such once they made a decision they assumed responsability for whatever came with it.

And deep down that's why they decided to keep the new development for themselves. Because some sort of backlash was inevitable and it was all so fresh and delicate.

But as the days turned into weeks, somethings became habits and as they felt more and more relaxed they unconsciously started acting outside as they did in the comfort of their home. The lingering gazes, eyes filled with such tenderness that anyone that witnessed it would immediately know there was something between them; those fleeting touches whenever one passed the other or simply when they were close to one another or those sweet kisses whenever they felt like kissing. They were in the honeymoon stage and Sherlock feared that almost anything could cut it short.

Anything being their relationship being questioned.

And Sherlock was sure that his biggest fear would start as soon as the shock passed.

"That was brilliant, love!

The sleuth was also sure that the quick kiss to his cheek helped.

Oh shit, that did it. Bugger. Bollocks. God fucking damnit!

He hadn't meant to do that, he really hadn't. He knew how apprehensive Sherlock felt about coming out. He didn't know why exactly but he had a few ideas about what was around in that genious brain. He knew he wasn't ashamed. He just couldn't help but to compare Sherlock's behavior to a child's when they make a new best friend and they don't want them to be or even talk to anyone else in fear of losing them.

And that was what John could bet was the problem. Sherlock was afraid.

His train of thought was interrupted by a quick movement he glimpsed with his peripheral vision, which turned out to be Sherlock's coat as he turned sharply around and swiftly walked towards the door of the warehouse they were currently in.

He turned to Lestrade to, as usual, send an apologizing look or a shrug but stopped in his tracks by the look of sheer shock in the DI's face. A quick look around confirmed what he already suspected : most were still in shock, a couple of them had small smiles in their faces and were exchanging money, and some were openly disgusted. He had seen enough. His eyes snapped back to Lestrade's and with a sharp nod he turned around and almost marched out of the warehouse.

John Watson was angry. He was absolutely pissed off.

He knew why they had that look on their faces. Even the ones that were smilling were somehow hesitant about it. It wasn't because they were two men. It was because John was with him. Because it was Sherlock.

They had never even thought about someone wanting Sherlock and now they had proof right before their eyes that someone did, they couldn't wrap their brains around the why.

And as the whispers began and Sherlock's pace increased, John suddenly felt he understood Sherlock better now.

Finally they were out of the warehouse and in the access road that led to a main and busy road in which John hoped they'd be able to catch a cab quick. Sherlock's tense shoulders combined with short, fast strides did not bode well.

Thankfully the walk was a short one and in no time they were in the pavement waiting for a cab to pass. John straightened his stance and turnedto Sherlock.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry, I don't know why I di-"

"It's fine, John."

John merely raised an eyebrow.

Sherlock sighed and cracked a bit of a smile. He failed miserably at it.

"Really, John. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Them finding out, I mean."

"Is that a bad thing?"- John asked quietly.

"No!"-Sherlock snapped and turned swiftly to face the doctor.-"It's not like that, and you know it! It's just...Now, now they'll start talking."

I was right after all. John took a step forward so he was close enough to grip Sherlock's arm and looked at him.

He honest to God didn't know why he did it. Neither of them were the sort of people that showed much physical affection in public, their relationship was their business and they didn't see any reason to flaunt it. But he did notice how Sherlock didn't mind to walk closer to him and even hold his hand when they were in Redditch for a case. So he had no qualms about showing off to strangers but people that knew them had him in a snit.

And now John thought he knew why. Strangers didn't care who they were. For them they were just another gay couple. But for the Met, for the people they knew and saw them every other day ? They saw the freak. The freak and his sidekick. Only now the sidekick was more than that. He saw no problem with that.

"Why does that bother you ? Remember what you told me, they do little else." - he said with a smile playing on his lips.

The response he waited of Sherlock didn't come though, as he turned away and raised his arm, hailing a cab over.

John sighed as the moment was lost and let his hand drop from where it had been resting on Sherlock's other arm.

Sherlock was already sitting on the other end of the seat, staring at the view beyond the window. John let his breath leave his lungs in a rush through his nostrils and settled in his seat. He just knew that cab ride would be the longest one in his life so far.

Little did he knew that same thought was crossing a certain consultant detective's mind right beside him.

Despite himself Sherlock started recollecting various memories even before the cacb had pulled off the curb. It was not usual for his mind to betray him like that and on this particular day, on this particular ocasion Sherlock was more than displeased.

Those memories were a jumble of events, none connected but all shared the same there : Sherlock losing "friends". Yes, he did think of the term with quotation marks. They ranged from his primary school days to his university days but they were still almost all the same. They could all be put in two sections: one was the one in which Sherlock met someone, got as along with them as it was possible for him and then promptly lost said friend as they caved in from peer pressure :

"Really, you're gonna play with him?! Come on, leave him in his corner with his puzzles, he's a weido!"

"You don't mean it do you ? You prefer to spend the night with that freak rather than going out with us ? Seriously ? Good luck finding anyone else to hang out with, stupid."

- the other was much more filled as it was the one in which Sherlock was discarded as soon as he opened his mouth. The number of memories in this one was much more numerous.

Sherlock surreptitiously glanced at the man beside him. John fit neither box. In fact, he had a room just for himself. He found Sherlock amazing. Him. Amazing, fantastic, brilliant.. So Sherlock tried to impress him. And impress him he did. And they became friends, then best friends ad when Sherlock realised that what he felt for John went beyond friendship he was more than chin deep in his infatuation.

He tried to ignore it, of course it did, but it just made it worse. Seeing John everyday, spending so much time with him, sharing all the things they shared. They had started touching by then as well. Little touches, nothing much, nothing that would make anyone think they were fancied by the other person. But Sherlock wasn't anyone. And so he relished every little shoulder brush, hand brush, pat on the back or the occasional hair ruffling and tried to give something back. He didn't think he was being that bad at it and then John went on a date and brought some random woman over. And Sherlock lost it. He felt cheated on, which was ridiculous since they weren't together and that was when he realised that he was the only one putting so much meaning into those touches. John had no idea what he had been doing to Sherlock all along.

Sherlock then naturally felt the need to climb the stairs to John bedroom, knock only once and barged into the room interrupting what seemed to be an intense snogging session and proceeded to declare himself to John. His tirade delivered, he remained in John's threshold for almost another full minute waiting for a reaction which came in the form of a very disgruntled woman pushing past him to leave which made him cross the door-frame back and then the door slammed on his face.

John was barely seen for three weeks, two days, seven hours and roughly thirty-six minutes and didn't spoke to Sherlock for four more minutes after that.

Sherlock had pretty much given up on hoping John would ever reciprocate, everyday he half-expected to see the flat devoid of anything John-related and tried to entertain himself by accepting almost every case that fell on his inbox.

Luckily all the thinking and sexual crisis John went through were in Sherlock's side and after almost a month of no contact at all John sat in his armchair while Sherlock was in and started talking about everything that he had been thinking and of the conclusions he had gotten to.

"Who am I kidding, Sherlock ? We've been a couple since what, a few of months after I moved in?"

They didn't dive head first into it, no. They were both swimming in unknown waters, John finding each step of the process a challenge. But he had made a decision and he was sticking to it. If they didn't work out it wouldn't be because he had been too much of a coward to take things forward.

It was why Sherlock was so afraid of losing it. John had spend all his life being only attracted to women, both physically and mentally and then all of a sudden he had to admit to himself he was more then a little in love with his mad flatmate. In spite of everything, in love with who he was as a person. The physical part came later and was a slow road for both of them.

The whispering had started. Opinions would start to fly around and John was bound to hear most of them. They would question them, of course they would. But what chilled Sherlock to the bones was, would John start to question them too ?

In a recess part of his brain Sherlock realised he was probably having his own version of the crisis John had to deal with, other was realising the long cab ride would be even longer because as if the rush hour traffic wasn't enough there had been an accident and other still was aware of John sitting uncomfortably and staring uneasily at him. He wanted to comfort him, that no, he wasn't mad that John had called him love and kissed him in public. If he were to be completely honest with himself he would admit that before the shock of the realisation settled in all he had felt was a warm feeling all over his body.

But Sherlock was still Sherlock and he was confused and not in a situation he didn't quite understand. And when that happens he reacts like an wild animal, all shaking in fear and snarling trying to look fearsome. "I don't have any friends!"

So he felt mad. He became angry. Who did John Watson think he was, to make Sherlock feel this way ? To make him feel?
Mycroft was right, caring was not an advantage, it hurt. One way or the other, pain would be always on the horizon. And not physical pain, that was easy to deal with, emotional one. Just the thought of that made him want to snarl.

John was nothing special. Just an army doctor that had been shot and sent back home as an invalid. Plain as the clothes he wore. He was nothing special he was just in the right place at the right time and he needed a flatmate, nothing else, why did he go and complicate things, stupid Sherlock, you should have gotten rid of him right after he...right after he killed a man to save you before he actually knew you. He saved you. He admired you. He had as many layers to him as the clothes he wore. He was surprise after surprise. He was everything Sherlock was not. Human and caring but could still be calm and cold if the situation so required. But never cruel, no. John would never be cruel. No, John H. Watson was a treasure that somehow found its way to Sherlock's den and he would be stupid to let him go, or worse, to drive him away. And he loved him. As much as he possibly could, that in comparison probably wasn't much.

But then, what about him. John had been willing to try to have a relationship with him, but what did Sherlock had to offer back ? Crimes, chases and adrenaline ? Companionship he could offer too, he already had. He was working on the romantic side now. He knew John was aware the physical part of it was as hard to Sherlock as it was to John. John saw it as a necessary step in a relationship, prove of love and affection, but while Sherlock was conscious of that, to Sherlock it meant breaking down barriers, learning and accepting touched with meaning. They weren't something he would do if necessary for a case. They were important and Sherlock was trying. They hadn't gone any further away than kisses and they weren't in a rush. They had time. Right ? They did ?

What if they didn't ? What if Sherlock got bored ? What if he actually managed to get himself killed in a case ? What if he gotbored. But he wouldn't, would he ? He could never bore of John. No. No, he wouldn't. John was far from perfect, but he was the most interesting person in Sherlock's life, he wouldn't let him go.

But what if John wanted to ? What if John wanted to leave ? Would he get fed up with Sherlock ? Tired of him ? Would he listen to all the people that would no doubt be incredulous about why he had stopped dating perfectly nice and boring women to date him instead ? He, lovely John no one hated ? What if he did want to leave ? He was perfectly aware he hadn't dealt woth today's occurence in the best way. Who was he kidding, he was horrible and a coward, He wanted to run away, to take John with him and keep him from listening to the poisenous seeds that would surely one day drive him away and what had he been thinki-

"We're here, Sherlock."

"Yes."- he replied in a perfectly composed voice, giving no clue whatsoever to the chaos that was his mind.

As he rummaged his pockets for change to pay the cabbie he felt John put a hand in his arm. He looked up and met his questioning eyes.

"Is everything okay ?"

And somehow in that moment everything clicked. John was here, with him. John had stayed the entire car ride looking at him, worried he had messed things up. John cared. John loved him. And he loved John. He wouldn't let him go, he would try his hardest and of still after more time together John decided to break up, even though he as sure it would break him beyond repair, he would at least make sure it wouldn't be because of something he was guilty of.

Everything was alright. He would make it alright.

"Yes, of course."

And with, that he leaned in and kissed him.