"John, what is this?" Sherlock asked his best friend.
"What's what?" John asked, looking over his shoulder. As soon as he saw what was on his computer screen, he panicked. "Do not read that, Sherlock!"
"But what is it? I've read a page and half and I can't seem to figure it out, all it is is feelings and sentiment."
John sighed, gathering up the courage to answer, "It's my journal, Sherlock. And it's private, so I would appreciate it if you didn't read it." John was usually very open with Sherlock, but he could only imagine Sherlock's reactions to some of the things he had written in there.
Sherlock immediately felt bad for reading it, though he didn't understand why John had written this, and why he wasn't allowed to read it. He couldn't resist asking one more question, "Am I mentioned in this journal?"
John was surprised at the level of uncertainty in Sherlock's voice, "Of course you're in my journal. You are my flat mate, and," he paused, working up the courage to say it, "my best friend. My journal is a documented version of my life, and you are quite a large part of that. If you weren't mentioned in it, it wouldn't be accurate. Plus my life would be very boring without you," he smiled at Sherlock, as if to reassure him.
Sherlock smiled back at the other man. He was sure he was blushing but he couldn't help himself, that comment was just so adorable. He loved John, and usually he was able to suppress his feelings, but sometimes he couldn't help himself. At the moment, he felt like he was screaming like a fangirl on the inside.
John was a tab bit concerned with the longing silence in the room. He was used to Sherlock not speaking, but after that conversation he couldn't be sure what was going through Sherlock's head right now.
Ms. Hudson chose that exact moment to walk in, "I'm running to the store. Do you boys need anything?"
Sherlock responded first, catching john off guard. Since when did Sherlock know what we need?
"We need some milk, it expired a few days ago. Also some biscuits. Oh, and I need twelve bags of oranges."
John looked at Sherlock, utterly puzzled. "Why the hell do you need twelve bags of oranges, Sherlock? We're going to go broke!"
"Isn't it obvious? It's for an experiment, John. What other use would 144 oranges serve?"
John laughed, he should have known. "Oh, I don't know, eating?"
Later that night, after John had gone to bed, Sherlock was doing some research when he happened to open John's journal again. He knew he wasn't supposed to be reading it, but he just couldn't resist. He told himself it was just because he was worried for John, knowing he still had nightmares, but in all honesty, he was curious to see what John had written about him. He knew Johns feelings would be spelled out in his journal, quite literally, and he wanted to see if John had the same feelings for him as he had for John. He had been quite aware of some hints of sexual attraction, but he wasn't sure if he was over deducing.
He was about five pages in when he is first mentioned, being called "masculine" and "built". He beamed at the compliment. The next mention of him about 20 pages in, in a section titled 'Shit'. It depicts a dream John had about Sherlock. Sherlock noted how explicit it was, but just attributes it to John not having a girlfriend. There were many more mentions of Sherlock but the one that caught his eye was one that read, "Its Tuesday, Sherlock and I just got back from a case. On our way back a cabbie asked us to keep the public displays of affection to a minimum. I explained that we were not a couple and all he did was grunt like he didn't believe me for a second. I couldn't stop myself from blushing, I don't even know why. Im not actually gay, for the record. I don't understand why everyone thinks we are a couple. Well, actually I do, but I can't imagine us actually being a couple. Okay, in all honesty, that whole last sentence was a lie. I have imagined us a couple to many times, sometimes even dreamt about it, but I can't imagine Sherlock on board with it. I can't even imagine Sherlock in a relationship sexually. I honestly think he thinks he is too good for anyone, and he is. He is too perfect for me, at least. Those cheekbones, and that beautiful body, I could have eye sex with it for hours. I just wish I could find a way to tell him, to get all of my feelings out. But I feel like he would react badly. He always says sentiment is a human defect and this is extremely sentimental. I'm going to say it, it's not healthy to keep it bottled up, I love him. I love Sherlock Holmes to death. I will always love Sherlock Holmes, even if he doesn't know it." Sherlock was crying. The great Sherlock Holmes was crying. It was usually so easy for him to suppress his feelings, second nature almost, and he was crying. This was against everything he believed in, but he couldn't stop. It was just so beautiful, and so sad. It was like that episode he saw of Doctor Who the other day 'Doomsday'. He still remembered when John walked in on him bawling. Having to explain how he was a secret whovian was just awkward, especially since he hated watching telly. He felt that Rose and The Doctor's situation related to his and John, quite well. And that was why he couldn't stop crying, even now. Would he ever be able to tell John he loved him? Or would it end with him dying with John at his bedside, never hearing him admit to the feelings he had inside.
Eventually Sherlock had succumbed to sleep, after hours of feeling emotions he would not admit to. When John found Sherlock the next morning, he was still sleeping. John decided to let him sleep, so he went into the kitchen to make some tea. He was sitting in his usual chair, admiring the look of Sherlock sleeping, when Sherlock awoke. Sherlock went into the kitchen, got a biscuit and a cup of tea, and sat down. There was an awkward silence in the room. Sherlock, still an emotional wreck, regretted invading John's privacy. He had planned to apologize, but that meant he had to admit to it first. He was still torn as to what to do. Logically, he shouldn't tell John and just move on. But then again, love isn't logical.
John spoke first. "I need my computer back today. I have some bills to pay."
Sherlock grunted and walked over to his desk, picked it up, and deposited it on johns lap. His hand accidentally touched Johns thigh and he shuttered, blushing. John opened his laptop and moved the mouse. The screen came back on and john almost died of shock and embarrassment. On the screen was his journal, opened to one of his most personal entry's.
Sherlock saw the shock and embarrassment on John's face and immediately realized his mistake. He decided silence was his best option, at least until John spoke.
"Uhhh, Sherlock? Do you remember that talk we had about my privacy," john said.
Sherlock looked down, the shame was evident, "I'm, " he inhaled deeply, "I'm sorry john."
John was stunned. In the long years he had known Sherlock he had never, ever, seen Sherlock apologize, let alone stutter. Seeing the hurt look in Sherlock's eyes practically melted his heart. "Its alright Sherlock. I figured you would read it sooner or later."
Sherlock walked out at that comment. He couldn't believe how little faith John had in him. He did read it, but still! He rounded the corner and turned to walk down the alley. When he got to the end, he curled up and cried for the second time that day. He cried for what felt like hours. When he stopped crying, he sighed, took out the picture of John in his army uniform, and ran his hands over it. It was old and ripped and John didn't even realize Sherlock had taken it from his dresser. After he felt sure his eyes looked less tear stained, he walked home.
When he got home, John wasn't there. Sherlock was disappointed and relieved in a way he didn't understand. 'Probably couldn't bear seeing me,' Sherlock thought. He scoffed at the idea, John affected by him? Not possible. He figured John was just a horny old man without a girlfriend. He was sure John just thought of him as an arrogant bastard psychopath.
He could feel the hot tears welling up in his eyes as he began whispering, "Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show." He laughed. Quoting Frozen in his darkest hours. He walked over to his drawer and took out his heroin stash. He injected himself with it and walked up to john's room. Taking out one of johns jumpers, Sherlock breathed in deeply and let his tears spill onto his cheeks. He was crying so hard he couldn't even get downstairs. He sat in the corner as his tears stained the jumper.
He was crying so hard he didn't even hear John shut the door and come upstairs. When Sherlock did notice John, he blushed and looked down, ashamed of his actions. John just walked over and sat next to him. That's when Sherlock noticed the thing John was holding. It was a fluffy teady bear holding a heart. In the heart it said 'I love you' in a cursive font. John smiled and handed Sherlock the bear.
Sherlock looked down at the bear in his hands and smiled. He couldn't believe this. John loved him, he loved John, all was well in the universe. Suddenly Sherlock decided to do something daring. He turned to the older man, grabbing his chin in his hands, and kissed him. John was shocked at first, but started kissing back. They kissed until their lungs screamed for breath. Panting, John whispered in Sherlock's ear, "I love you," over and over again until Sherlock fell asleep.