"I Love you!" Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks fed up, overwhelmed and raw. Frustration clear in his voice, years of dancing around the obvious finally spilling out full force, for all the world to see. "I love you John, not her, not him, but me. Sherlock." Each frantic gesture and declaration winding down into a seance of normalcy by the last refrain. "I love you! I love you! I love you." The last came out on a deep hushed breath as a statement of pure fact. Sherlocks eyes grew wide and panicked as he come back to himself realizing what he had just done, he took several steps back, and covered his mouth with shaking hands, actual fear palpable in the air.
John simply stood there equally as wide eyed, rooted to the spot where he had turned around to face Sherlocks, unexpected tirade. So there it was, all layered bare. Now what?
~Three Days Earlier~
"Why is London, so congested?" Sherlock asked with his customary level of annoyance, as he side stepped yet another couple (with all the caution of someone who was afraid of contracting Ebola) who seemed to be just standing in the middle of Hyde park doing nothing but mooning into each other's eyes.
"Valentine's Day Sherlock! When all the bloody world is in love!" Sherlock arched an eyebrow and cast John a quizzical look. Sherlock assumed that Johns seeming aversion to the public and impending holiday was due to his lack of female companionship, but unwilling to ask any questions that may lead somewhere Sherlock was still not sure he was willing or even capable of going. No, that was untrue, he was willing. Sometimes willing was all he was. Sometimes he couldn't think of anything but his willingness to love John, and all that that implied. They had been "together" for years as friends, and sheared every nook and cranny of themselves with each other, so why was this last barrier so hard to cross? Asking that question was pointless really. Sherlock knew that he himself was the last barrier. He kept John at bay, as well as himself. There where times when the elephant in the room was so obvious that even complete strangers had to comment. So why was Sherlock so hell bent on not acknowledging what was between the two of them?
~Now~
John was scared. Scared to move. Scared that if he did Sherlock would disappear into a puff of smoke. Scared that he hadn't heard him right. Scared that he had. But he had to move. Because the fear that he felt was nothing compared to the sheer panic he saw blooming in Sherlock eyes. If he didn't act he knew that his idiot genius would take it as a sign of rejection and withdraw into himself as he always did, or simply run away. Gathering his own emotions and fears under control, he took a step forward. Just one.
~Two Days Earlier~
Sherlock hadn't been able to stop thinking about Johns lack of a love life and what it would be like to be loved by a man like John. But no, that wasn't an option in Sherlocks mind. Paralyzing, crippling, soul crushing doubt. "Freak." "Junkie"
"Faggot." That's why. Sherlock acknowledged the fact that he was a genius with unparalleled skills of deduction. But that's where the accolades stopped. And the rest of him began. The dark corners, the unspoken ugliness. And in Sherlocks eyes John Watson was worthy of so much more then that. Sherlock pushed his growing feeling for John deep down and away into the most secluded area of his mind palace, because even if he loved John enough to die to keep him safe and to come back to life to save him from himself, he was still not the man that he needed to be to deserve John Watsons love. A great heart, a pure heart. A saver of lives. John had no bitterness or gall about him, he was selfless in the extreme. But there where times...brief glimpse of cobalt blue eyes, that nearly gave Sherlock, the strength, the courage, he so desperately lacked to just...what?
~Now~
"I wonder if I can make someone fall in love with me before this stupid holiday gets into full swing? What do you wager Sherlock? Think it can be done? Where should I start? She looks unattached. Or what about that bloke over there?"
What?! Was John goading him on purpose? What ever the case. Call it courage, jealousy, or just plain anger at Johns preposterous set of questions, Sherlock found that he couldn't simply stand here a second long and let the words that strangled him daily continue to go unspoken.
"Sherlock, wait, don't just don't." Sherlock continued to gaze at John, like he was a ticking time bomb. Hands still clasped firmly over his mouth as if he where afraid that more secrets would just come spilling out unbound, shaking his head "no"as he retreated slowly. John could tell that he was about to bolt and reached for him just as he was turning to run, grabbing a fist full of Belstaff, John held him tight.
"Look at me." John came to stand in front of him.
"No John, please just let me go crawl in a hole and die, and forget everything I said."
"I can't let you go, and how am I supposed to forget what you said, when it feels like I've been waiting my entire life just to hear you say those words. Open your eyes."
"I can't John, please." His voice low, quite.
"That's too bad, because I really wanted to see the look in your eyes the first time I told you I love you William Sherlock Scott Holmes." Sherlock made a sound caught between a sob and joy, tears squeezed out the corners of his tightly closed eyes. "I'm going to kiss you now, oaky?" Sherlock just nodded his head eyes still shut, tears still flowing, smiling. John slid a warm calloused hand around the back of Sherlocks neck, and up into his curls, pulling him down into the happiest of Valentines Day kisses.