A/N - This is the first fan fiction I've ever written and actually finished, and published... Honestly I'm pretty happy with the way this one turned out, although I think I can do way better. Hate mail is welcome, like I said this could be a lot better and I need to know where I can improve... carry on :3
UPDATE: People seem to like this story actually. Should I write a second part to it? Leave comments! :3
December 24th, 2015; 5:00pm.
Sherlock Holmes stood on the doorstep of 221B, watching the snowflakes fall under the street lamps. Really nervous. Tonight was the night he was finally going to confess his feelings for John Watson. He's been in love with the man since he saved Sherlock's life shortly after they'd met. Shortly before that, he remembered, John had asked the detective if he was in a relationship.. Sherlock could tell from the look on John's face right after that, that he was into him. And was able to tell John was lying when he denied taking interest in him. Sherlock could read John like a book.
Sherlock's hands shook as he opened the card, and, for probably the hundredth time, read over the folded up letter to his flat mate. For a second, he thought about ripping up the card, leaving it on the sidewalk and letting the falling snow bury it slowly. But then, he'd be back to hiding his feelings, and letting them build up. He poured everything he had into this piece of paper folded delicately into a Christmas card. Written down, rather than saying everything out loud so his extreme nervousness wouldn't cause him to freeze up or forget his words.
It'd taken Sherlock almost five hours to make the note perfect, saying everything he'd been wanting to say for the last five years. Including the two years that Sherlock was supposed to be dead. For god sakes, he faked his own death and went into hiding for two years in order to protect John. He came back from the dead, and knew John would be pissed as hell when he found out Sherlock faked his death. He faced the consequences of all that, put their friendship at risk, for John.
Clutched in Sherlock's shaky hand, was a short but detailed paragraph of everything he loved about his blogger. Mentions of a couple memories. Sherlock described how he couldn't think straight half the time when he was around him, and how he would get lost in John's beautiful brown eyes. At the end, he'd written "And there's one more thing I have to tell you…" after which John would look up at Sherlock. Given that Sherlock hasn't passed out from nervousness yet. Sherlock has played this scenario in his head a million times, knowing it would be a lot more difficult to do in real life than in his mind. And what better night to do this than on Christmas eve?
The wind picked up speed and the falling snowflakes got thicker. Sherlock's heart pounded as he put the envelope with the card and the letter back into the pocket of his long black coat. The doorknob of their flat was cold against Sherlock's fingertips as he nervously but quickly opened the door and slammed it shut behind him. Taking a deep breath, he climbed the stairs and burst through the door. John was sitting at the table, sipping a cup of tea with his eyes glued to his computer screen.
Just do it already, fool, Sherlock told himself as he took another deep breath. You've been waiting for this moment for too long.
"John, there's something I… need to tell you…" Sherlock muttered before he knew what he was doing. He shut his eyes for a few seconds, drawing the envelope from his pocket. Opening his eyes, he stared at it for a bit. Before he could stop him, John had stood up, walked across the room quickly and tore the envelope from his flat mate's hands. It was like John knew what it held, as he carefully pulled the card out of the envelope and watched as the note lightly fell to the floor.
Sherlock flopped down in his chair, closing his eyes, drawing his hands up to his mouth like he does when he's thinking.
You've got about a minute till John's done reading the note, just say it, get it off your chest. You'll feel a lot better when you do. I should have just written it down in the note itself, I'm too bloody nervous for this. No, you better say it out loud. No one, even John Watson, wants to find out someone is in love with them through a note, that's the most childish thing ever. Say it, Sherlock, you know he feels the same way. I don't know if I can do this. I'm a bloody coward! Jesus Christ, Sherlock, just do it! Sherlock argued with himself inside his mind.
As John read the note, he began to have mixed feelings of happiness, sadness, and anger. Happiness because John has had these same feelings for Sherlock, and was just about to give up because he didn't think a sociopath could ever have these feelings for another human. Sadness, only because nowhere in this letter did it actually say "I love you." And anger, just because Sherlock decided to wait forever to tell John, whether he actually loved John or not. Happiness overtook the other feelings as a single tear ran down John's face as he got to the bottom of the letter.
"And there's one more thing I have to tell you…" John whispered out loud, reading off the paper.
Sherlock's eyes snapped open as John looked over at him, nervous, shaking, and hopeful. Say it, just eight words, it'll take two seconds to say and it's too late to turn back now. SAY IT.
Taking a deep breath, Sherlock stood up and moved swiftly over to John who was standing there with his mouth hanging open but no words coming out. John could feel his face getting hot, and heard his heart pounding in his ears. He looked at the taller man, who was now standing no more than four inches away from John.
Sherlock grabbed on to John's hand, lacing their fingers together. John gasped. I am so not used to doing this…
"John Hamish Watson, I'm… in love with you." The second those words left his lips, all of Sherlock's nervousness, all his doubts, all his fear just disappeared. It took every ounce of willpower that John had to not freak out and attack Sherlock just because he was so happy that Sherlock had finally said it after all these years. Time seemed to tick by very, very slowly before John finally opened his mouth.
See, you did it, don't you feel a whole lot better now?
"I… don't know what… to say…" John managed out.
Sherlock looked John up and down, reading his body language. He's happy you finally said it, you should be ecstatic. Don't just stand there. In about three seconds this will all get very awkward. Ask him if he reciprocates these feelings. No, of course he feels the same way. Well then just.. DO something!
"You don't have to say anything, John…" Sherlock whispered as John let go of Sherlock's hand, pulling him into a hug.
"I love you too, Sherlock."