This is going to be a multi-chapter songfic based on Last Kiss by Taylor Swift. It's gonna be a little angsty but I promise it'll be a happy ending :)

I still remember the look on your face

Lit through the darkness at 1:58

The words that you whispered for just us to know

You told me you loved me

So why did you go away?

John Watson sat in his armchair facing the empty chair of his late best friend. His best mate, the one who'd pulled him out of his post-war depression, the one who showed him danger, excitement, wonder, and love. Sherlock showed him that it was okay to love the battlefield, to love the scummy underbelly of the great beauty that was London. He taught John that he wasn't broken, that he could forget the limp that had once controlled his being. He taught John how wondrous and spectacular and rude one single man could be, and he helped John realize that love was accepting of the good and the bad. But right now, it was very, very bad.

Sherlock was dead. John could still see the crumpled mess that was his best friend on the sidewalk. Every time he closed his eyes, the sight was etched on his eyelids. when he closed his eyes he was back outside Bart's, crying over the broken man that he loved more than anything, and he watched all his own feelings drench the sidewalk alongside Sherlock's blood.

John leaned back in his chair and curled his knees up to his chest. He closed his eyes tightly and thought of the better times.

-x-

"Are you awake?"

John rolled over in his bed, groggy from sleep, and peered into the darkness surrounding him. "Well, I am now," he spoke softly, knowing exactly who woke him, even though he couldn't see him. "What are you doing here, Sherlock?"

"I wanted to tell you something," the deep voice floated through the darkness like chocolate and John ached to turn on a light so he could see the speaker.

John had long been harboring feelings for his odd flatmate, and having said flatmate in his room, oozing sex appeal was absolutely not helping matters at all.

"No, don't turn on a light. It's easier when you can't see me."

John shrugged. "Can you see me?"

"Of course," the voice came closer now and John's breathing hitched ever so slightly. "My eyes have gotten used to the dark."

John didn't bother asking just how long Sherlock had spent in his room, letting his eyes adjust, and instead tried to hurry the conversation along. "What did you want to tell me, Sherlock?" He glanced at the clock. "It's almost 2 in the morning."

Sherlock took in a deep breath and John ached to feel him, touch his hand, his arm, anything. He could tell the detective was uncomfortable and everything in John wanted to change that. "Come sit down, Sherlock. You don't need to be nervous, it's just me."

"That's the problem, John!" He groaned but sat on the bed beside John anyway. He let out a hiss and continued. "For a few weeks I've been... Noticing things about you."

"Sherlock, you notice everything about everyone, I hardly think that's news."

"Don't interrupt!" Sherlock snapped. "This is different. Yes, I can tell what you've done any day based on small details but this is something new. Lately I've noticed that you smile whenever you receive a text, that you look nicer when you don't try, and that you barely put up a fight when I request something from you. I've also noticed things about me. I get happier when you walk in a room, if I get too close to you, my stomach starts feeling odd, and when you're upset I always get the weirdest urge to hold your hand. I've looked it up and I think I've got a label for it."

John gaped but remained silent.

"I love you, John. And you love me, isn't that right?" Sherlock's voice was quieter as he spoke the last half of his statement and it was all John could do to keep from bursting out laughing. "It is right, I know it is from your body language and how you're not screaming at me, but do say it John, I want to hear it."

"Yes, Sherlock," John reached out with his hand and it was met with one of Sherlock's. "I love you."

Sherlock inhaled quickly before beginning to chuckle. The chuckle bloomed into joyous laughter and John joined in, the absurdity of the conversation hitting them.

After a few moments, they sobered up and John spoke again. "Well, there's one little thing people usually do after they profess their love for someone."

Sherlock squeezed his hand. "What?"

John reached into the darkness and found Sherlock's head with ease. He cupped the detective's cheeks and pulled him down over the doctor. At this proximity John could just make out the lines of Sherlock's face, and his wide, unblinking eyes. John closed the distance and pressed his lips calmly against Sherlock's. "Oh," the detective breathed against John's lips. "That's what you meant."

John laughed as he melted into the kiss.

Hope you enjoyed! Please review, I love them :)