Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Sherlock Holmes or any related characters or plotlines.

Authors Note: Participating in a 30 day drabble challenge via Tumblr. I've chosen to write each of my drabbles using Sherlock Holmes (The novels incase you were wondering). And instead of the usual 'from Watson's POV' I will be writing this in Sherlock's POV, that seems funner. :) This is my first time writing Sherlock Holmes.

Pairing: John Lock (No sex, sorry but I want my non-slash shipping friends to be able to enjoy this. There may be implied slash-sex in the future but do not count on it.)

Warnings: None

Beginning

I noticed it early on but wasn't quite sure what to make of it. I'd fiddled around with the idea for awhile before more pressing matters involving my current case forced the thought to the back burner of my mind so to speak. Then after awhile I just started avoiding it all together. Something in my gut told me that I did not want to analyze that idea further. It was of no importance! It meant nothing! Leave it alone my instinct told me. Unfortunately, it was a problem in need of solving. Naturally there was no way for me to avoid it given my nature.

The analysis of the problem finally came to a head in early October, the night John returned from the hospital a little worse for wear. I'd been pacing before the fire puffing on my pipe while trying to figure out what this idea or feeling could possibly mean when my friend came through the door with a pained sigh. I'd been startled to note that I hadn't heard the door downstairs open or his ascent on the stairs.

"Good evening Watson." I said, withdrawing my pipe from between my teeth, a light haze of smoke filtering out of my mouth and nose. The glow of my pipe was beginning to die down and I turned to the slipper resting on the mantel place to refill it. I made a mental note that should I go out in the next couple of days I had better stop at the shops to stock up on my favorite tobacco.

"Good evening Holmes." My friend replied as he shrugged stiffly out of his jacket and hung it upon the tree in the corner, hissing in discomfort as he did so. Seeing his discomfort I immediately called for Mrs. Hudson to put the kettle on and brew us both a nice cup of hot tea. The tea would do my friend some good, and I could do with it myself.

"Are you quite well?" I asked as he crossed to his chair and sat down heavily. I sat in my own across from him, pipe forgotten on the mantel place. He offered a small smile and a glance my way before leaning his head back and closing his eyes with a sigh.

"Quite well, Holmes. Just a bit stiff is all, in my shoulder." He said gesturing to his shoulder. The shoulder I knew to be the shoulder he'd taken a bullet to while in Afghanistan. The shoulder was often stiff and would occasionally cause my friend discomfort if the weather was exceptionally cold. I had noted earlier on in the day while sulking about in my evening gown that it was rather chilly, even for October.

"Perhaps I could aid you in applying that salve you use." The offer had slipped out before I'd properly thought about it and I mentally kicked myself for not thinking before I spoke. He eyed me with a slightly raised eyebrow but his eyes crinkled and he nodded.

"The help would be much appreciated. When my shoulder is exceptionally stiff I find it a bit difficult to reach the back of it. Thank you Holmes."

I would have let out a sigh if it would not have caused suspicion. I once again scolded myself but didn't linger to much on it as Mrs. Hudson had entered with the tea I'd requested. She bumbled about asking John about his day and his patience as she set out our tea and a plate of biscuits she'd included of her own volition. I listened quietly while I sipped at my tea and nibbled at a biscuit without tasting it.

John cheerfully spoke of his patience. He said that a few had come down with the seasonal illness but would be fine so long as they were kept warm and given plenty of fluids. He also spoke of his favorite patient, a young woman who'd been heavily pregnant with child for some time now. He'd beamed and explained that he'd successfully aided in the birth of a healthy baby boy earlier that day. John was so enthusiastic and cheerful while speaking of his work that I'd fail to notice the crumbs from the biscuits raining down on my evening gown.

Once Mrs. Hudson head left us alone John finally turned to his tea, adding only a bit of honey for sweetness before sipping at it. He sighed contently and gazed into the fireplace. As the silence descended between us I found myself examining him over my forgotten cup of tea. His eyes were cheerful if not tired. His shirt collar as well as the cuffs of his sleeves showed signs of obvious stress and tension but his hair was neat meaning whatever was bothering him was not to be worried about. While examining his face for traces of stress I found my grey eyes resting on his own green ones, and that is when the thought struck me. The answer to my question.

For months I'd been pondering over this idea, this thought, this feeling; this feeling that came over me while in the company of my flat mate. It was a feeling I'd never felt before, not anywhere or with anyone. Contentedness. Happiness even. The revelation took me by such great surprise that I'd nearly tipped over my tea cup and let out a slightly startled sound when a few drops rained down on my worn night gown.

"Are you alright Holmes?" John asked, his brows creased with concern. I waved him off and set the cup down on the table between our chairs as I began wiping away the strain with my hand.

"Yes, yes fine, fine. Got lost in thought, you know I do that sometimes my good man."

"Ah, yes, quite right. I do hope you haven't damaged yourself or your gown."

"What's one more stain Watson?" I asked with a small quirky smile as I settled back in my chair. He chortled and nodded at me as he took a sip of his tea. It was no secret that my night gown was covered in the occasional stain given my habit of occasionally rising at odd hours in the night to experiment.

But as silence once again descended upon us I couldn't help but think over the revelation I'd had. I hadn't thought it possible. I'd always seen it as something normal people did, but not I. Sherlock Holmes was by no means a normal person. But all of the evidence was there. Contentedness. Comfort. The rise in body temperature. Slightly elevated pulse rate. No doubt if my companion were more observant he would have noted the dilated pupils. I'd grown fond of my flat mate. I felt flabbergasted. I'd fallen in love with John Watson!

I'd never fallen in love before and thus had nothing to really compare this feeling to but I could think of no other alternative. It was more than fondness that I harbored for my friend, for I was quite fond of Mrs. Hudson and this was quite a deal stronger than what I felt towards the kind woman. I tried to think back but nothing even came close. I'd never loved my parents and they'd never loved me. Perhaps I'd loved my nanny, but I'd been so young when she'd been replaced by tutors that I could not rely on the memory. I did love my brother Mycroft but it was complicated and unhappy, our relationship. But this, this feeling I had for John… it was similar to the feeling I had for my brother, only stronger with no strings attached and happy.

This realization gave me quite a turn. Not only was it bizarre but unnatural. It was not natural for a man to fall in love with another man! Or so said society. I personally had never given it much thought. I'd never cared to pay much attention to what normal people did or didn't do or who they loved or didn't love. I'd always thought myself above love and sex. But now, now it seemed I'd been wrong. Yes. There would be no denying it. I'd fallen for my flat mate. Admitting it to myself made my heart soar and my mind deliriously happy, but the high didn't last and was soon replaced with anxiety and a tinge of fear.

To give my hands something to do I poured myself a little more tea and began absentmindedly sipping at it. I let my gaze dart across to John who had picked up the Evenings Post and was reading over it with a contented smile. I could never reveal to John these feelings of mine or he might grow disgusted with me and leave! Or worse, turn me in. Despite it not being entirely uncommon, homosexuality is illegal here in London and if it were revealed that I were homosexual I could face some prison time. No, John must never know.

A while later my friend folded the post and let out a sigh and a groan as he stretched in his seat. I set my cup aside and gazed at him, drawing my mind away from my current train of thought to focus solely on him.

"It's been a long day, I think I'll turn in early Holmes."

"Alright. I'll fetch that salve and help you before you retire." I said standing and crossing to the drawers where he kept his medical supplies. I only had to look for a moment before I found the jar I often saw him using to apply the ointment. I unscrewed the lid and sniffed at it before frowning and looking at the label. "John, did you get a new solution? This one smells more pleasant than the last." I inquired as I turned back to him. He'd removed his vest, undone his tie and unbuttoned the upper half of his shirt. He glanced back at me to see the jar I'd grabbed.

"Ah yes. This works just as well as the last but stings less." He commented as I joined him. I read over the label before looking at him and the fire.

"It would be easier if you were to sit on the floor, if your leg will allow it." I stated and he nodded, easing from his chair and onto the floor. I knelt down before him and set the jar on the table. I helped ease the shirt off of him and looked over his shoulder.

His shoulder now laid bare before me was quite a sight to behold. The skin was smooth save for a pale puckered scar that jagged across his shoulder. Nearing the center the scar grew larger and more rounded, where the bullet had struck him. Drawing the jar to me I slipped three of my fingers into the smooth salve and dug out a considerable amount before returning my sights to my friend.

"Do warn me if I hurt you." I said eyeing him. Once he'd nodded I returned to the task at hand. I began rubbing the salve around the scaring before moving inward. My fingers grew gentler as they ran across the risen skin of the scar and more abrasive as they rose to the top of his shoulder. John didn't complain once but instead sighed with relief as the salve began to warm his skin and my fingers massaged his sore muscles.

Once I'd finished with the front I maneuvered my way behind him and began the same treatment in reverse. Now no longer seated in front him though I let my mind wander a little. I really was lucky to have John in my life. He kept me grounded. Reminded me to be human as he often put it. Sometimes I wonder what draws me to John, and now I question it even more. What does draw me to this man? Perhaps it was because he was the complete opposite of me. Where I was the coldest humanity had to offer he was perhaps the kindest and gentlest.

John was strong, not only in body but in heart and mind. He could handle a lot, a lot more than a lesser man. His body could take a beating, has taken a beating. He has the scars to prove it. And yet, he battles on despite his injured form. His heart, I am convinced, is much larger than that of an average man. He is so kind and caring to everyone, even those he things little of. His heart is kind enough to tolerates me and my coldness. I know I've caused him heartache and yet he never leaves. He stays by my side. I'll forever thank whatever God maybe out there for his heart. His mind has endured so much. Endured what would break another man. John H. Watson is a man deserving far better than what he has settled for.

"Holmes?"

I blinked startled at the sound of my name. I hummed to note I was listening. My hands had began slowly massaging at his shoulder in an absentminded manner.

"Sorry Watson, lost in thought again I'm afraid. Is this enough?" I asked, referring to the salve that I'd rubbed on him. He nodded in the affirmative and I removed my hand, (reluctantly I noted.)

"Yes, very good, thank you Holmes." He said stretching his shoulder as I stood and moved out of his way. He got to his feet and gathered his discarded tie and vest. "Good night Holmes, tell Mrs. Watson that I will be skipping dinner."

"Alright. Sleep well Watson."

"You to Holmes, if you go to bed." He said with a chuckle before he headed up the stairs to his room.

Once he'd vanished and I'd heard the click of his bedroom door and fell heavily into my chair. I slouched, my chin resting against my chest and my arms dangling over the side. My fingers were still covered in the warming salve that I'd applied to him but I didn't bother wiping it away. I sighed. Living with John would become harder now. But if I had to suffer due to my feelings, to keep John by my side than so be it. Nothing was more important than his friendship. Nothing.

Rubbing my face with my clean hand I gazed into the fire, my grey eyes tired and weary.

"Sherlock, this is the beginning of your end." I mused to myself dully.

Authors Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. I know I did.