"Oh my god. This is it." John said, more to himself than to Sherlock. The detective was mumbling incoherently while trying to figure out how to switch off the bomb anyway, so he wasn't exactly listening. This is it and I never even told him. He never knew the truth. John thought, he could tell him now... But it was too late, it wouldn't change anything he reasoned. All that telling him would achieve would be an awkward tension between them for the rest of the minute and a half of their lives. Or would it... "I'm sorry." Sherlock's voice broke his train of thought. "What?" John responded, he was floored. He had still had a glimmer of hope that the genius Sherlock Holmes would save them yet again. "I... I can't do it John. I don't know how." He looked so dissapointed in himself, so upset, that John couldn't even be mad at him. Sherlock continued, "Forgive me John. Please, forgive me for all the hurt that I caused you." John looked back at the two years of his life he had gone without this man. They had been unbearable. He had met Mary of course, but that did little to soothe him, because while he could repress his feelings for his best friend, he could never delete them all together. Which is probably what pushed him over the edge into the decision he was about to make. "Sherlock," He said, his voice wavering a little. "I... don't mind that you couldn't do it. Because there is no way better that I could die, then here with you. Sherlock... I... Love you." There. He had said it. Sherlock was silent for a moment, staring at John. When he finally responded, it shocked the army doctor. "You should see your face." The detective said, his thin lips curving upwards into a smile that reached all the way to his cheekbones. "It was all a joke you know. I solved it. The bomb is turned off. There was an off switch." Watson's jaw dropped. "It was a what? Sherlock Holmes, if you are lying to me, I swear I will kill you." John had forgotten all about the confession he had just made, and was absolutely furious. "Nope. Not kidding. There was an off switch. I found it and stopped the bomb. I also called the police." Sherlock was still grinning. John was still furious. The doctor stormed off the train and made his way back to the main road, where he got a cab. He didn't realize where it was he had told the cabbie until they pulled up in front of 221B. He should go home to Mary, he thought, but something pulled him inside. So he payed the driver and headed up the steps to his old flat on Baker Street. He went inside and sat down in his chair. As he slowed down and replayed the evenings events, he dozed off to sleep.