It seemed as if everybody thought of Sherlock as an arrogant know-it all who couldn't care less about how his deductions and experiments effected others. Although John agreed with this, he also knew the kinder, only slightly obnoxious Sherlock who often relied on the cold sociopath facade to protect himself. Even when he would make snide comments about John's IQ or apparent inability to see what he see's, John knows how much he cares.

He had woken up earlier that morning to the sound of a shower. Normally John was up before his flatmate, who loved to sleep through days when there were no cases, but this Monday seemed to be different. He moved sluggishly to the kitchen, and put on a pot of coffee.

Mrs. Hudson had been kind enough to grab the post this morning on her way out and slide it under the front door. John grabbed it, his pot of hot coffee, and made his way towards the recliner. Shifting through the mail it looked like mostly bills and mail that hadn't made it that Saturday, but there was also a letter from Mycroft, which was rare.

John had just begun to open it when he heard the bathroom door slam closed. He stuck his head just over the top of the chair and saw an angry Sherlock, dressed only in a robe, making his way towards him. John looked back down, and started shuffling the letters, trying to look busy and being sure to hide the letter from Mycroft.

"John." Sherlock said, stopping just behind the chair. "I'm bored."

"Sherlock, if you looked at the clock you would realize that it's, 8- yeah 8 in the morning."

"Yes, but John I'm bored. I'm done sleeping until we find a case."

"Well you could go to the shops there probably just opening."

"John. I'm the great Sherlock Holmes and you want me to go to the shops?"

"Well you are bored."
"Please John." He begged" Can we go bother Lestrade? Maybe he has a case!"

"Reading Sherlock"

"But I'm bored!"

"Go do an experiment or something" John suggested looking down and deciding to actually read the letter from Mycroft, which he was quite curious about.

"Ok." Sherlock looked around, paced the room a couple of times, the walked back up to John. "Look at me for a second." he said right before gently pressing his lips against Johns.

His mind went blank. Sherlock tasted of spearmint, most likely his toothpaste, and his lips were soft. This was not the kind of experiment that John had had in mind, but he wasn't sure if he particularly minded. Sherlock pulled away, and after taking a deep breath in and averted his eyes from John's.

"I was right it seems"

"about what?" John stuttered, blushing more with each passing second of silence."

"I am in love with you" said Sherlock with restrained emotion in his voice. John leaned back, trying to process what just happened. What do you do when your best friend kisses you and proclaims his love within seconds of eachother?

Sherlock had turned away and walked across the room. He was running his hands through his hair as he often did when anxious. "But judging by the way your acting, wringing your hands, swallowing so often, avoiding eye-contact with me- even now." he swallowed "You don't feel the same."

John began to laugh, he really didn't mean to, but the whole situation, combined with it being as early as it was clouded his judgment. It started of small, but soon it filled is whole body.

"What?" Sherlock asked, turning around. He strode across the room, his face was red hot with anger and embarrassment. Tears were no longer just forming, but were falling down his face. He was shouting, almost shaking. "Are you going to make fun of me now? Do you think this is some kind of joke? What do you think John? WHAT DO YOU THINK?" Sherlock fell to his knees in front of John, grabbing his head and shaking. "What do you think." he whispered, his facade completely broken.

"The great Sherlock Holmes," John said using his finger to lift Sherlock's gaze to his, "finally wrong."

Fin...for now.