"My name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street."

That had been John's first meeting with the man that was going to change his life forever. Now, a number of years (and crimes solved) later, he was sitting on the couch in their shared flat, drinking tea and reading today's paper. Sherlock had already read it, but found it boring since it didn't contain any fresh murders. Now he sat hunched up in John's armchair, watching TV. John looked out the window and thought about his daughter who was currently at school. Rosie was now five years old and she had grown into a very bright little girl. That reminded him of something.

"Listen, I've been thinking" he said, "since Rosie is getting older, she might need a room to herself soon."

"Sure, we'll move in with each other then" Sherlock answered, his gaze still fixed upon the TV.

John blinked in surprise. "What, Sherlock, no!" he rambled. "That's not what I meant!"

Sherlock turned around and looked at him. "Why not? It's the most logical solution to our problem. You move in with me, because I will not climb all those stairs if I don't have to. The room is big enough for the both of us, don't you think?"

John took a deep breath. "You don't understand. Two grown, straight men cannot share the same room. What would people think?" He tried to hide a smile but failed, and looked away so Sherlock wouldn't notice. Even though his flatmate was a genius in some aspects, he was also quite ignorant when it came to human behavior and what was appropriate. "No, I wanted to ask mrs. Hudson to expand the flat a little. What do you think?"

Sherlock looked at him for a moment with a strange look in his eyes. "People!" he spat out, as if he deeply disdained the word - which he probably also did. "Why would I care what they think? People are stupid and boring. Sure, as you wish" he added after John gave him a poisonous look, "I find it unnecessary that's all." At that Sherlock faced the TV again and did not utter another word, except a few to complain about the TV-show he was watching as usual.

John lay down at the couch to continue his reading, but his gaze fell upon Sherlock.

His life had changed completely since he met Sherlock, and for that John was grateful. Still, the man was quite difficult to handle at times. In his mind John liked to compare him to a big child. Yet, there was something he didn't really understand, a certain feeling he got sometimes when they looked at each other or happened to touch, or when Sherlock made deductions to impress him. John didn't quite understand the feeling and tried to shake it off, but it always came back. It sort of reminded of… no, that couldn't be it. They were friends, that's all. John made himself think about something else, and after a while he returned to reading his newspaper.

"John, wake up". John opened his eyes to his flatmate standing bent over him. "Christ, Sherlock, what is going on?" John groaned as he struggled to sit up. He was still on the couch, he had apparently fallen asleep.

"Nothing" Sherlock answered, "I noticed we were out of milk and we need to get some more."

"Well if you think I'm getting the milk every damned time we're out, you're wrong" John exclaimed while finishing his cup of now cold tea.

Sherlock began to rummage through the piles of paper lying on their desk. "I thought that was your job" he argued.

"Sherlock", John warned him in an angry voice. Sherlock stopped and looked at him. "Fine, fine. I'll come with you" he sighed, grabbing a document from the desk and studying it thoroughly.

John watched his facial expressions as he read. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes, of course" Sherlock answered as he crossed the room and went over to the mantelpiece. He grabbed a knife and stabbed it into the document, pinning it to the mantelpiece.

"You have to stop doing that", John argued. "Stabbing things. Let's talk about it instead. Having trouble with a case, are you?"

"A little. It turned out to be pretty boring - I don't want to waste my time dealing with boring cases. I'm thinking of maybe leaving it to the simpletons."

John raised and went to fetch his jacket. "Well, you know I'm here for you", he said. "But right now, I'm going to pick up Rosie at school, and we can go to the store when I come back".

At sunset, Sherlock and John walked side by side along the streets of London, the sky glowing beautifully in colors of yellow and pink. The air was quite cold and John pulled his jacket tighter around him. Sherlock noticed.

"Do you want to borrow my coat, John?" he asked.

"What? You'd be cold!" John pointed out, but Sherlock had already put his coat around John's shoulders and made no reply.

They walked quietly for a while, until John decided to break the silence. "What was the case about?" he asked. "Do you want me to come with you tomorrow? We have a few clients tomorrow, but I think we have a couple of hours by midday. What do you think?"

"I'd love you to". Sherlock shuddered.

"You're cold. Here, have your coat back. No, take it!" John stopped and handed the coat back to Sherlock, who took it and put it on. "Shut up" he said at John while pulling his collar up. John laughed.

"No, no" he said, "you look good!"

Sherlock smiled and suddenly they were standing there, at a bridge in London, smiling as they looked into each other's eyes. The sky and the setting sun made reflections in the water, and the street lamps covered the bridge and their faces in a faint, but warm light. Time seemed to stop, and neither of them knew why they were still standing there instead of continuing to walk. John had never seen Sherlock like this before - well, a several times, but not with this intensity. His face had softened, and something in his eyes made John get the strangest feeling - the most exhilarating, wonderful, fulfilling and intense feeling he had ever known. He noticed that the situation also scared him a little. He wasn't quite sure what was going on.

Sherlock opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, closed it and opened it again before he finally managed to speak.

"John…" he said quietly. "Um, I want you to know that meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. I'm glad to have you by my side".

John smiled a little, but his face dropped and undertook a most serious expression. "You were the best thing that ever happened to me, too. I don't know what would have happened to me if I hadn't met you. I was so alone, Sherlock, and I owe you so much".

Sherlock looked so soft, so vulnerable, and John's heart weakened.

"Listen" Sherlock said quietly. "There is something I always wanted to tell you." He moved a little closer and John's heart skipped a beat.

"Do you remember that time by the plane, that time when I was going away never to return? I told you there was something I wanted to tell you, only I never did. What I said, it wasn't what I wanted to say." Sherlock looked deep into John's blue eyes. The cold wind ruffled his curly hair, but the only thing he took any notice of at the moment was John looking up at him. Sherlock took a deep breath and with a shaky voice he finally managed to say it.

"I… I love you, John Watson. People think that I'm not capable of human emotions, love least of all, and I must admit I've never felt anything like this before, but I'm sure of it. I love you."

John's gaze, which had been fixed at Sherlock's face the whole time, moved to a point somewhere behind him, and then down towards their feet. His heart was pounding fast and his feelings overwhelmed him. He felt even more frightened than before. He tried to get a hold of himself but failed. At last he looked up at Sherlock's face again.

"I'm sorry… I…. I can't….um, this is not…" he backed away. "I have to go… uhm… bye". John wished that he had managed to say something more appropriate, but his brain wouldn't work and he left Sherlock there and then, standing alone on the bridge.

John went home and checked to Rosie, then he went immediately to bed and cried himself to sleep.

The next day he woke up early, but he didn't want to go downstairs in case he would meet Sherlock. He watched Rosie as she slept in her little bed beside his. "She really needs her own room" he thought to himself. He laid down and decided to think things through.

He knew he overreacted yesterday. He had never been good with feelings, his psychologist had been telling him that several times. As he lay there, things started to fall into place. Slowly he started to come to terms with the fact that Sherlock was in love with him. And he was in love with Sherlock. It became more and more clear. He wasn't heterosexual, he was bisexual and he was in love! He let the feeling spread until he felt like he did yesterday, that wonderful, exhilarating feeling - but now he felt no fear, only happiness. As he looked around, the colors seemed brighter, the sun clearer, Rosie was more beautiful than ever! His phone started ringing, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed before how beautiful his ringtone was.

"John Watson", he answered.

It was Molly. She had fear in her voice. "It's Sherlock. He has been spotted in a drug den. I called you as soon as I found out. I fear he might be doing drugs again, and I fear it might be severe this time".

John felt his entire world come crashing down at him. All his happiness shrank and left him with nothing but a heavy heart, and the world around him suddenly got gloomy and dark. He woke Rosie and dressed her for school. He didn't even remember making her a lunchbox but apparently he did, at least he remembered giving it to her when he left her at school. Then he took a cab to the place where he knew Sherlock would be.

The inside of the den was dark and scruffy. He met with Bill Wiggins, who occasionally worked for Sherlock and was the one who found him.

"Never seen 'im like this", Bill told John as they walked through the den. "And I'm not talkin' 'bout the drugs". John remained quiet, and Bill made no effort to make him talk. They remained silent until they reached their destination, and then Bill immediately walked away.

John found Sherlock in a corner, a bit drowsy and in a terrible state. At that moment John stepped into the role as a doctor and nothing else. Everything needed to be handled professionally. He sat down beside Sherlock.

"John? What are you doing here?"

"I'm taking care of you of course".

John examined Sherlock carefully, asking him questions and searching for any drugs he could find. After a while, he called a cab and helped Sherlock get out of there. Sherlock squinted at the sunlight, but made no attempts to resist.

It wasn't until they reached the hospital that John let go of his professional attitude. They were alone in a waiting room, and Sherlock had now perked up a little trying to act normal, but John could still see the pain in his eyes.

"Sherlock, I'm terribly sorry about what happened yesterday. I truly am. You know I'm not good with feelings, and your words took me by surprise". He awaited Sherlock's response, but didn't receive none. He continued. "I'm not good with this sorta stuff either. This is difficult, Sherlock, it's difficult, but I'll do it for you". He felt tears rising. "I want you to know that you're important to me, and I don't want to lose you. Because you make my life whole and without you I don't know where I would have been today. I owe you so much, Sherlock. And I… I love you, too".

At those words, Sherlock lifted his head and looked at John, his teary eyes blinking rapidly. "You what?" he asked, his voice was weak. He looked even more vulnerable than he had done yesterday, his hair was a mess and his clothes dirty.

John stood up in front of Sherlock'schair. "I love you, Sherlock" he confirmed. "I've always loved you. I see it now".

Sherlock stood up, his body only a couple of centimetres from John's, and took John in his arms. John leaned his head against Sherlock's chest and could hear his heart beating. At that moment, everything made sense. His heart ached out of happiness. He was once again overwhelmed by his feelings for Sherlock but this time he didn't fight them - he let himself be swept away by them. This was one of the most wonderful moments of his entire life. After that day he was never afraid of or doubted his feelings ever again.

After a while, John lifted his head and looked straight into Sherlock's eyes until he felt like he could drown in them, then his eyes wandered down towards his lips. At that moment, Sherlock bowed his head down towards the much shorter John and they kissed for the first time then and there - but definitely not for the last time.

It felt like they kissed for an eternity, but at last they finally parted, still wrapped in each other's arms.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?" Sherlock answered softly.

"I've reconsidered. I thought, maybe, it would be best if we moved in with each other anyway. I mean, Rosie still needs a room".

Sherlock smiled. "I think so, too" he answered, and at that moment he felt like the happiest man on earth.