Sherlock paced around the room, panicking. He didn't know what to do! John would only be gone for another 2 hours, and Sherlock was no closer to solving his dilemma. It was John's birthday. Sherlock had spent hours contemplating what to get John. Under normal circumstances, Sherlock would have regarded gifts, and birthdays as trivial. This, however, was not a normal circumstance. This was John. It had to be perfect. Sherlock leapt into the kitchen with a sudden burst of inspiration. John wasn't much into material items, he knew. He would be more impressed by acts of kindness and effort. Although Sherlock had never even attempted to cook in the past, he threw himself into the task wholeheartedly. When John arrived home, two hours later, he was greeted with dinner on the table, and one very messy Sherlock. "Happy Birthday, John," Sherlock announced, quite pleased with himself. John began to chuckle. Sherlock looked confused. "What? You don't like it?" He glanced at the strange display of food that he had arranged on the table.
"Oh, no, Sherlock! It's amazing," John replied, catching sight of his friend's downcast face. "I was just looking at you. You're a mess!" Sherlock glanced down. Various ingredients coated his clothes. His face warmed with a bright blush. "I-I should go and get cleaned up," Sherlock stuttered as he tripped out of the room. A few moments later he emerged again; neat and clean. They sat down at the table, facing each other. John surveyed the dinner for a moment, before scooping a bit of pasta onto his plate. Sherlock did the same. "This is quite good," John smiled after a moment. "I didn't know you could cook!"
"It is simple chemistry, John."
"Well thank you. It is an amazing birthday gift." They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Sherlock gazed at John. He had never noticed the way that John drummed his fingers on the table. Or the slight dimple in his left cheek. Or his eyes. Oh, God, his eyes… How had he never noticed them before? They weren't quite green, or quite blue, and ringed with gold. They were so deep. Sherlock's gaze moved down. For so long, he had dreamed of John's lips. He imagined them now, pressed against his. Sweet and soft. He could practically feel them. He had tried to hide from his feelings for John, but they always found him. They always came stronger than before. He didn't want to hide from them anymore. He didn't want to hide them from John.
"Sherlock?" John looked at him confused. Sherlock snapped out of his trance.
"Yes?"
"I said that I had something to tell you."
"Oh, yes. Right. I, uh, also have something that I would like to share with you."
"Alright, well, tonight while I was out, I met someone." John bit down on his lip to hide a pleased grin. "Her name is Mary, and we have a date!" Sherlock could barely breathe.
"What?" He whispered.
"A date! I have a date!" It was as if Sherlock's world had come crashing down. He knew that it would never had worked. John would never have felt the same way about him. It was impossible. He should never have even entertained the idea.
"Sherlock?" John stared at him, confused. "You alright? Didn't you say that you had something that you wanted to tell me?" Sherlock stood.
"I… No, I didn't. I think that I'm going to go, now. I need a bit of air." And with that he stood and strode out of the room, leaving John wondering what he had said wrong.