Sherlock was laying horizontally across his chair in his pajamas and his blue dressing gown one afternoon. It was a terribly boring day after his experiment with the pig corpse took an unexpected turn, which John will discover later whenever he opens the oven. Today John was dressed more nicer than he usually does after work. Judging by this and his choice of clothing and grooming, he has a date planned later. Maybe with some convincing Sherlock can get him to blow it off to go to a crime scene with him.
John walked over to him with two cups of tea.
"Good afternoon," John said, handing Sherlock a cup.
"Good afternoon," Sherlock replied, sitting up vertically and taking the cup.
John sat in his chair and took a sip of tea before his phone alerted him with a text message. He set his tea down, read the message and sighed. Sherlock knew what it was. This woman whom John was expecting to go on a romantic date with has turned him down. Still, being the friend he is, and to be "more human" as John encouraged, he asked anyways.
"Something wrong, John?" Sherlock asked, gently putting down his teacup.
"My girlfriend." John said and Sherlock laughed.
"Just the word makes me laugh."
"What about Irene Adler?" John asked. Sherlock knew that John was always careful when mentioning her. John had believed Sherlock had been in love with Irene so he lied to him and told him that she had been sent to America on a witness protection programme when she was actually dead. However Sherlock knew the actual truth that even John didn't know. He still preferred to keep her out of conversations, though she isn't as much of the "touchy" subject that John believed her to be.
Sherlock laughed a little more. "Are you serious?" John shrugged and Sherlock shook his head. "You know I don't like women. Or people. It's not really my-"
"Yeah yeah I know, it's not really your area. But are you really not interested in anyone? At all?"
"So what's wrong with the women in your life?" Sherlock asked, ignoring John's question.
"Well I just can't ever have a relationship. They always either end up batshit crazy or break up with me. And even though the sex is reallyamazing, I'm not looking for a relationship just based on fucking."
"Oh I'm sure you'll find someone," Sherlock took another sip of his tea.
"Well, I kind of did. But I'm sure the person doesn't like me back."
"Which woman is this that you have feelings for?" Sherlock asked.
"You're Sherlock Holmes. You figure it out." John said with a narrow of his eyes. Sherlock snickered. John's sass is always amusing.
"What if you don't have feelings for women at all? Then all the dating would be a waste," Sherlock said.
"What do you mean 'don't have feelings for women at all'?" John asked astoundedly. Sherlock simply shrugged in mid-sip of his tea.
"Well what about you? You have to have had feelings for someone. Or have feelings for someone," John said, taking the focus away from himself.
Sherlock choked and set down his tea. "Wrong pipe," he said in between coughs before looking back at John. "I don't have time for women, John."
"Well then what about men?"
"What about them?" Sherlock asked, getting up from his chair and walking over to his desk.
"Do you have feelings for a man?" John asked as he followed Sherlock.
Sherlock started looking through his bookcase, although he wasn't quite sure he knew what he was looking for. "I'm busy, John."
John gave a short amused laugh. "I see, ignoring the question. Anyways, I'll be writing about our latest case on the blog if you need me," he said before starting to walk off.
Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John and narrowed his eyes. "John, do you have romantic feelings towards my brother?" he asked. John turned back with a face of pure horror and shock.
"Mycroft?! No! What the fuck, Sherlock?!" Even though John's face was bright red, he really didn't think it was Mycroft after that response.
"Shoot! Was I close?" said Sherlock. He was actually extremely relieved, but that didn't stop his curiosity as to who this person was.
"Why are you assuming I'm gay?"
"Well, it's obviously not a woman," Sherlock said smugly.
"And why is that?"
Sherlock smirked. "Because you said you're sure the person doesn't like you back, when you could have easily just said she. And on top of that, you're acting in denial," he said. Oh, he loved being right. And he knew he would eventually find out who this mystery man was.
"Well that doesn't necessarily indicate that I like a man," John said, pursing his lips. Yep, in denial.
"It's obvious it's not a woman. And you were clearly trying to hide something. C'mon just tell me who he is, John," Sherlock said.
"You don't know who it is? I thought you, the great Sherlock Holmes, knew everything," John said sarcastically.
"Of course I don't know everything, John! And it's your life, so just tell me who it is."
"Well why don't you first tell me who you like?" John said back.
Sherlock turned to fully face John. "No. I asked you first."
"Well why don't you just figure it out?" John asked with frustration evident in his voice.
"Because I went through this!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"What?" John was baffled.
Sherlock let out an agitated sigh. "I don't know."
"Wait what did you mean by that?" John asked.
"I can't figure it out."
"Why do you want to know so bad?"
"Why won't you tell me?"
"Because." John said.
"Because why?" Sherlock asked.
"Because I don't want you to know."
Sherlock walked up closer to John. "Why not me?"
John's face quickly became tinted with a shade of pink, to which Sherlock took note of. "...Because," John said. In that moment a lightbulb went off in Sherlock's head. He couldn't help the small smirk that formed on his face but it quickly vanished. Of course. He knew who it is.
"Because why?" he asked.
"Why should I tell you?" John said. So defensive.
Sherlock took a step closer, now incredibly close to John's face. "So I can know I'm right."
John blushed even more but still kept his indifferent face. "Well who do you think it is?"
Sherlock smiled and looked straight into John's eyes without saying a word. The beet-red John looked down to the floor. "I knew it," said Sherlock.
"Knew what?"
Sherlock still said nothing. He kept his eyes glued on John's, the smile not leaving his face. Oh god, he loved being right.
"John," Sherlock spoke.
"What?"
"I feel the same."
Sherlock leaned in and put a hand on his jaw. Then their lips met and John responded. The sweet and subtle kiss turned into a passionate one until Sherlock broke the kiss.
"Was I right?" he asked
John smiled. "Of course you were."
"Oh thank God, that would have been awkward." Sherlock said with a laugh.
"So.. You really do feel the same? Or did you do that just to be right?"
"I really do. I have always felt that way. Ever since we met." Sherlock said while letting his hands slowly roam around John's lower back.
"Really?" John asked with the most beautiful smile Sherlock has ever seen.
"Yes."
John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and pulled him back into a kiss. Sherlock hugged at John's waist and kissed back. Sherlock loved the way John's tongue tasted. Mint and tea. The expectant of a stereotype British man, but he also had this taste that was just John. It was completely indescribable, but it was perfect. He broke the kiss again but let his lips linger by John's, lightly brushing against his as he spoke. "John…"
"What?"
"You aren't going to write this on the blog, are you?" he asked.
"No."
"Okay.."
Their lips reconnected for a moment before Sherlock parted them again. Sherlock went to the door and John looked irritated. Sherlock opened the door to see a police man with his fist in the air who was apparently just about to knock. "I'm busy," he said before quickly shutting it again and making his way back to John. Before he could even kiss him John pulled him in, as if he was a need.
They made their way to John's bedroom, despite tripping over clothing constantly. Apparently kissing, walking, and stripping are hard to do at the same time. Nevertheless the bruises they made (both from over tripping and other activities), It was a beautiful and amazing night to remember for the both of them.
The next morning John woke up naked cuddled against his nude consulting detective boyfriend. He gave him a kiss on the forehead and slipped out of his arms. He picked Sherlock's blue dressing gown from the ground and put it on, covering his nakedness.
He walked into the kitchen to make him and Sherlock a nice breakfast when he smelled a downright awful smell. The place reeked like a dead animal. He went to the fridge, expecting to find rotting body parts but surprisingly there was nothing but food. Then he went to check the toaster, since last time he tried to make jam and toast he found a thumb jammed in there. Nothing. Then he opened the oven and- good God!
"Sherlock!"