A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Sherlock

I have no beta.

ENJOY! For the version with pictures, go to Archive of Our Own.

Dear Mr. Holmes,

Do you know how utterly charming you are? When you walk around, back straight and completely unaware of the effect you have on people? On me? How you saunter about in your fashionable coat? How you smirk when something particularly interesting tickles your fancy? How your eyes sparkle when you put all the information you've gathered together? You should know, it's breathtaking.

I adore watching you. You smile so rarely though. You should do so more often, you look so much happier that way. Ah, the intricacies of your genius mind enthrall me. As does your hair, eyes, hands, and anything else about you. How foolish of people to not see the gem you truly are. Foolish indeed.

Just know, that you are appreciated. Even though I am a stranger and have never been introduced to you, I still find you fascinating and it would be a shame for you to let the lesser man's opinion, wear you down.

With much admiration,

XoX.

Sherlock stared down at the letter in silence. Written on parchment, in a script he had never seen before. The writing wasn't necessarily flowery like John's so it couldn't be from him. In fact, John wrote in a messy scrawl. Probably something to do with being a doctor. No, this writing was calligraphy. He ran a finger over the indentations in the parchment. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to make the letter 'special'.

This person claimed to have never been introduced to him. He could already tell that that was a lie. No one ever got close enough to see him smile or react unless they knew him or at least had been around him before. He'd met all of the Yard workers and there were countless clients he'd met. So who could it be?

Not one of Mycroft's people. He shivered in disgust.

The letter was too sincere for that sort of work.

He looked up from the letter to see John leaning over his arm to read it. The doctor flushed a little.

"Wow. Somebody loves you," he said, unintentionally mimicking Irene's words from that annoying case.

He turned around and blew out some air as he moved into the kitchen. "Wish I got letters like that."

"You do get letters."

John stopped and rounded on him, "What?!"

Sherlock shrugged, "I bin them. They're all rubbish and you could do so much better without them. All insincere and hoping for some fame for being your significant other. Unworthy," Sherlock waved him off. It was rare that he gave John an answer at all, but he felt his friend deserved one in that instance. He shouldn't expect it all the time though.

John sputtered before going silent.

Sherlock glanced over, to see John giving him a small smile. Unexpected. Shouldn't he be angry?

"Thank you, Sherlock."

He watched the man disappear into the other room and frowned. That went unexpectedly well. Why?

Another letter came. It described his eyes, his hair. How beautiful his skin was. How XOX wanted to touch him but couldn't.

He didn't really react until the fifth letter which had gotten a little, socially aberrant. Though his assumption of them being male was proven correct. Still, to read about what they wanted to do to him, he would admit to being breathless.

No one had ever wanted to do him any favors. When it came to sex with Sherlock, people were after their own agenda. But Sherlock could tell in the writing that this unknown admirer was truthful without fault. He meant what he said.

John was apparently skeptical about it all and demanded that if the mystery man ever came around, they were to meet. Sherlock found John's protective mood slightly endearing.

Seven months of letters, a letter a month, had passed.

Sherlock felt completely blindsided by it all. This person understood him, in some odd way. They had to be a close acquaintance. Had to be, because Sherlock did not like thinking that he was falling into sentiment for a complete stranger. It just didn't seem, right.

He entered the flat, to find John standing there, holding that month's letter.

"Got another one."

Sherlock tried not to let his excitement be shown, even as he accepted the crisp parchment from his only friend.

Hello Sherlock,

I have something I wish to give you.

Turn around.

He frowned and turned, eyes locking onto John, who was holding a small box in his hands.

"This is for you."

Sherlock accepted the gift and pulled at the blue bow on top. The box fell apart in four pieces. Only then did he realize that it was an imitation Chinese take-out box. In the center of it, was a blue, heart shaped stone that said, 'I Love You'.

Sherlock stared at the scrawled letters for a second, before his mind clicked. He looked up and locked gazes with John, who was smiling sheepishly.

"You are my admirer?" Sherlock asked breathlessly.

John nodded silently.

"But how - I didn't even - you didn't even match the image I had in mind - your writing was different and the calligraphy! John!"

John shrugged, "I'm actually really good at calligraphy, you just didn't know. It requires a steady hand after all. As for the writing, I could sound just like you, if I put the effort into it. Half the time, people don't understand what I'm saying and I got used to dumbing it down."

Sherlock looked down at the stone, real blue Jasper - his favorite - he noticed. He then looked to the letter and then to his little pile of folded parchments on his desk. John had been writing him. Wooing him. For months and he never knew! How? How had John managed to keep such a thing secret from him of all people?!

Wait! He'd been falling for John! He glanced up, looking at the only person in the world to accept him without having to think about it first. The only person to like him. To call his deducing 'amazing'. It was John.

"So you… you really feel this way?" he asked after a moment.

"Yes, I really do."

Sherlock gently set the gift and letter down and approached John warily, still waiting for the laughing and profession of a joke. John made no such movement.

And then Sherlock carefully wrapped a hand around the back of John's neck and pulled the doctor in for a heated kiss.

John returned the action wholeheartedly, moaning.

The need to breath - so trivial - interrupted his mapping of John's mouth. They had to pull away slightly. John laughed a little and asked something that made him flush.

"Does this mean I have permission to act out letter number five?"

A/N: Done!

How was it? Let me know!

Check me out on Tumblr! helly-watermelonsmellinfellon.

See ya! :D