PART ONE:
Today had been a close call. Sherlock had to admit that, even if just to himself. Close, but not rash. He had calculated the risks involved and acted accordingly. Surely John could see that. Sherlock ran his fingers through his dark curls as he sat behind his desk at 221b Baker Street. In front of him, he could see his friend pacing wildly about the room, growing more and more agitated with each step.
"She was a little girl, Sherlock! What if we hadn't gotten there in time?" John said as he rushed by for the tenth time, panic evident in his voice.
"But we did, John." Sherlock said slowly, obviously growing tired of the conversation. "I was sure I could solve the case and still make it to the subway car in time to get to her. I calculated the odds and there was at least a 95 percent chance it would work."
"95 percent!?" John roared, stopping suddenly in front of Sherlock. John was breathing heavily with anger at this point, his fists balled up at his sides.
"You should really calm down, John," Sherlock began calmly. "Everything turned out fine, so I don't understand why you are being so irrational."
"Irrational! Oh pardon me, Sherlock!" John raked his fingers through his hair. "I am so sorry that I actually care about that little girl's life." He turned around, too angry to look at Sherlock. "We could have lost her, all because you had to play the hero!"
"The girl is fine. We solved the case. Don't mistake my detective work as playing the hero, John," Sherlock said primly. "Although I'm sure it must look that way to you." Sherlock knew that was pushing things a bit far with his friend but, really, he was being so emotional. "Be reasonable, John."
"Reasonable?" John hissed, turning back around. "Of course, I should have known that "reasonable" to the great Sherlock Holmes would mean being an emotionless GIT! I DON'T KNOW WHY I EVEN BOTHER." He had just enough time to see Sherlock's cheeks flush pink before John turned and stomped off to his room, slamming the door.
PART TWO:
John sat on the end of his bed, with his head in his hands, trying to breathe deeply. 'Why am I so angry with him?' John thought to himself, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands. 'We did save the girl, and I know he meant well… why am I acting like this?' John knew why, deep down. He had been especially volatile lately, especially when it came to Sherlock. Even now, just thinking about him made frustrated tears spring to his eyes. He quickly rubbed his eyes. 'No,' John thought angrily. 'I am not going to cry again over this.' He allowed his shoulders to slump and put his face in his hands. He was about to stand up, when all of the sudden his bedroom door flew open, Sherlock's tall form towering in the doorway.
"What—," John started to say, standing up, when Sherlock stepped quickly and quietly into the room. Sherlock's pale face was flushed, his eyes flashing in a way that John did not recognize.
"Is it emotion that you want, John?" Sherlock's deep voice seemed unnaturally strained. John was about to respond when Sherlock sprung to action, slammed the door behind him and rushed across the floor to where John was standing. John, surprised beyond comprehension, could only stumble backwards. Sherlock continue to pursue, reached out a hand and firmly pushed John against the wall with great strength that belied his thin form. John stared wild-eyed as Sherlock pressed his cool lips on top of his own.
Sherlock continued to kiss him, each kiss deepening as he went. John, originally astonished, found himself responding to those kisses and even returning them, pressing his lips firmly against Sherlock's. In response, Sherlock grabbed John's wrists and forced them against the wall above his head, kissing him deeply. John could feel his heart racing as he delighted in the feeling of Sherlock's lips on his own; something he had dreamt of for many sleepless nights. John cautiously ran his tongue along the top of Sherlock's bottom lip, eliciting a soft groan from Sherlock that caused John's entire body to ache for him. He was about to press farther when a nagging thought surfaced in the back of his mind.
"Sherlock—," John tried to say in between kisses. "Wait- you don't-," another lip lock took his breath away. Finally, unable to get more than a word or two, John put his hand on Sherlock's chest and pushed him away firmly. "Wait a second!"
"What?" Sherlock asked breathlessly. His pale chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his purple button up shirt. He looked confused.
"You don't have to do this." John said, trying to catch his own breath. "I-I'm sorry for what I said before. It wasn't fair, and I didn't mean it." Sherlock watched him intently while he spoke, his bright eyes catching every movement. Both were silent for a moment.
"Yes you did." Sherlock finally said quietly. John was taken aback- perhaps Sherlock was hurt by what he had said before.
"No- no I was just angry. I- I know you meant well. I am sorry for what I said, really, I would never—I –," John stumbled all over his words. Looking into Sherlock's eyes was more than he could take. All of the sudden he could hear himself speaking further,
"I—Sherlock, I need you to understand. I- this- what we just did… It means something to me." He knew that what he was about to say would change everything but he couldn't stop himself. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. Sherlock was watching him, confusion painted on his face.
"Sherlock. I think I—no, I know, I l-love you. I love you." There it was. He finally said it.
Sherlock hadn't moved, but his eyes were wide in shock. Moments of silence passed and John couldn't take it anymore.
"Look, just forget I said anything. I- I don't know what I was thinking!" He turned away and walked quickly to the door. Just as he opened the door to escape, it slammed shut again. John stayed still, facing the door, but looked up to see Sherlock's long pale fingers on the door frame above his head. Then, impossibly close, he heard Sherlock's deep voice buzzing just above his ear.
"John. Please just wait a moment," Sherlock rumbled softly. John's heart started racing and he raised a shaking hand to his head as he slowly turned around to see Sherlock towering over him, leaning down so that their faces were just about a foot apart.
"John, listen carefully because I probably won't say this often, but don't think I do not mean it." Sherlock's eyes softened as he looked at John. "I love you too, John."
It was as if he had been struck with lightning. John stared at him openmouthed for a moment while he processed what had just happened.
"Love?" John asked incredulously, staring up at Sherlock's handsome face.
"Yes," Sherlock answered quietly, his eyes watching John intently.
Slowly, a wide smile spread over John's face and he raised his hand toward Sherlock's face to lightly brush a dark curl away from his eyes. Sherlock smiled gently in return and leaned his body closer to him. Finally, John roughly grasped the back of Sherlock's head and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.
That was answer enough.