AN: Hello! This story is co-written with one of my besties! Her tumblr: forever-nerdy . tumblr . com (remove the spaces). Please enjoy!

Chapter One

It was a quiet evening at 221b Baker Street. The air was crisp and clear, on the cusp of turning into winter. For Sherlock, this was not only a quiet but also boring evening as he stared at John typing away at his computer. Sherlock heaved a sigh that indicated to John that he was bored and John needed to do something about it. John huffed and looked up at Sherlock from his computer.

"What is it, Sherlock?"

"Bored."

"Do you not have a case?"

"Obviously not, John."

"Then what do you want me to do? And I am not playing Cluedo with you again."

Sherlock sighed again in response and turned over on his side facing away from John, tucking his knees into his chest.

"Sherlock what's gotten into you? You're usually a bit more…lively when you are this bored…"

Sherlock got up abruptly to go to stare out of the window of their flat, watching the general public pass by. He then happened to see a strange man in a tweed jacket and bowtie running with a ginger girl and more normal looking bloke. He stared out of the window long enough to watch them disappear down the street. He shook his head at the strangeness of the moment then promptly turned back to John.

"John, can you describe love for me?"

John was surprised to say the least.

"Well, it's like… sort of when you… Why do you want to know Sherlock? Is there someone besides your work?"

John even more surprised when he saw that Sherlock was blushing. Not only that but due to his fair skin it contrasted heavily, making him even more obvious. Before John could control himself, he giggled a bit. Sherlock instantly turned to face John with glare and a very red face.

"It was a serious question!"

"Sherlock, it's just that, well, it's you. Why you need to know about love? I know it's not for a case because you've solved millions of cases where love was involved and not once did you try to understand it."

Sherlock glared at John a bit.

"There is someone isn't there?"

Sherlock winced, answering John's question.

"Oh my god, well, do you mind telling who she is? Or him, I don't really know with you. Or care, honestly…"

"He's very kind, too kind I should think but it works for him," Sherlock stops a moment to collect his thoughts, "and he's very, very brave. And compassionate, he makes me feel a little more human, and I don't know whether that's a good thing or a bad thing."

John stared at Sherlock wide eyed, wondering who he was talking about. The first name that came into his head was Greg Lestrade. The description fit perfectly, Lestrade was a good and brave man and helped Sherlock through difficult times. But to think of Lestrade and Sherlock like that made John's stomach drop for some inexplicable reason.

John couldn't stop his voice from wavering a bit when he says, "Well, I'm sure you and the Detective Inspector will be very happy together, although I never that Greg would be-''

"Not him, you idiot! Can't you tell I'm talking about you, John?"

John's heart leapt into his throat, preventing him from forming words.

"Forget it. I'm going to bed."

Panicking, John stood up and reached for Sherlock's hand. Sherlock turned his head, meeting John's eyes. They stared for what seemed like eternity, and then Sherlock broke the spell. Sherlock gently tugged his hand from John's grip, and whispers, "I think it would be best to face this in the morning."

At that, Sherlock retired to his room, leaving John to contemplate what just happened.

John did not sleep well that night. The weight of Sherlock's words permeated almost every thought he had. John had no idea how to feel except that no matter what would happen he would never leave Sherlock. That was impossible, for the both of them. John felt comfortable with him; felt as if he knew Sherlock better than Sherlock knew himself. He had to admit that Sherlock was quite attractive, among his other attributes. John figured that if he fell in love with another man it might as well be Sherlock. He didn't know how much that said about his feelings, but it was the truth. Hopefully, Sherlock would see it the same way.

John made his way to the kitchen to try and find something at least edible in their kitchen. He went to look in the refrigerator to find that it was barren except for the bag of assorted thumbs. John sighed in frustration, some things never change. He hung his head for a moment then closed the fridge to go get dressed and then eat at the café. But he was in for a surprise when he Sherlock leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

"Blood hell, Sherlock! Trying to give me cardiac arrest?"

"You said you wanted to discuss this. Although, I have no idea why, I just figured you would just move out as quickly as possible."

John's eyebrows raised in surprise at Sherlock's assumption.

"Sherlock, why would you think that?"

"Because you don't want to live in a flat with a man who fancies you."

"Sherlock, I wouldn't move out because to be quite blunt, I need you and you need me, and if I move out we would miserable."

Sherlock was silent, letting those words wash over him. He moved from his place in the kitchen to his place at the window, waiting for John to follow. Finally, he spoke.

"I am in love with you. And that scares me." Sherlock said simply.

"What do you mean 'scared'?"

Sherlock stood with his hands in his pockets, glancing nervously out the window. The gentle hum of cars passing and people speaking of unimportant, frivolous matters usually made him calm, but now it only agitated and tensed him.

John stared at his friend, eyebrow raised and lips turned down. "Sherlock, what makes you scared?"

"John I… look, I… what I mean to say is… I don't know. No, that's stupid. I do know but I have no idea how to say it. I can to Mrs. Hudson. But you… words fail me." His brow was sweating and through his sputtering his lips began to tremble.

"Look, you aren't really making much sense. Why don't you lie down or-"

"No!" he shouted, flustered, "I don't want to lie down. I want you to listen to what I have to say! I didn't think I knew what love was, but then I met you and I thought you were an idiot like the rest of them-"

"Insulting me isn't the best way to get me to listen."

"I know. I wasn't finished. I thought you were an idiot, but you proved me wrong. You proved me so wrong John because after only a matter of minutes I began to realize you were brilliant and I didn't show it because I was angry and I didn't understand what was happening to me and I was scared because I couldn't control it or put reason to it. You're brilliant, John. And I think… I think it's probable, more than probably, in fact… I love you."

Silence filled the room for what seemed like an eternity. John was absolutely speechless, he didn't expect Sherlock make himself vulnerable, put his heart into John's hands to do what he wants. He could hear the world carry on outside, ignorant of their situation. Then, before John could stop himself, he grabbed Sherlock's hand. Surprised by the sudden touch, he flinched a bit, going twelve shades of red. With their fingers laced together, Sherlock hesitantly rested his forehead on John's.

"C'mere and kiss me, you git."

John, taking the initiative, reached with his unoccupied to thread his fingers through Sherlock's curls, efficiently bringing Sherlock's lips upon his. They unlaced their hands to wrap their arms around the other. Sherlock being a bit too enthusiastic, kissed too hard making John go backward into the mantle.

"Shit."

He felt the back of his head with his fingers and brought them into the light, no blood but it feels a bit tender.

Sherlock stepped back to let John sit down in the chair next to the mantle. "I-I am so sorry John, really John, I-", Sherlock fussed from his spot by the desk.

"Sherlock-"

"Please forgive me John, I don't know where that-"

Then John exploded, "Sherlock!"

Sherlock stopped speaking, surprised at being yelled at that loudly by John.

"That was… extremely unexpected," John said as he gazed at Sherlock, rubbing the back of his head.

"Let's not mention that ever again." Sherlock sat in the chair directly in front of the man he'd just attempted to kiss. His hands were folded over his nose and his eyes were crinkled shut: his thinking face.

"So am I supposed to pretend you didn't just kiss me into the mantle?"

"Stop," Sherlock hissed.

"No, we're talking about this." John shuffled across the room to Sherlock's side, kneeling down in front of him. "I want to talk about this."

Sherlock didn't meet John's eyes, refusing to acknowledge the definite change in their relationship. John stood back up, hurt by Sherlock's sudden change in mood.

"I would call you out for being selfish but honestly, I could care less," John muttered.

And so, poor Mrs. Hudson couldn't go up there all day to tell them that there was a package for them at the door.