A/N: Hello again. Sorry for the huge delay. Classes are a bitch, and so is writers block. Just some fluff I wrote. Little bit of angst. Rated for safety. Enjoy!

Sherlock was walking with his head down, thinking intently on the case Lestrade had called him into. He was oblivious to his surroundings, and did not notice the man in a black trench coat hurtling toward them. John looked up in time to see him, but wasn't able to warn his companion in time and he watched them collide with matching grunts.

"'Scuse me," said the man, a smirk on his flushed face. "Didn't see you there."

"Clearly," replied Sherlock.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he introduced himself, the smile never leaving his face. He outstretched his hand to shake Sherlock's and withdrew it slowly at the glare he received in return.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Of course you are!" Jack bounced on his feet a few times, his eyes glancing behind the duo.

"John Watson," introduced John.

Jack's eyes strayed to John for half a second before returning to Sherlock's blue eyes. "I hope to see you again soon, but I have to run." With that, Jack continued to run away from the pair, a parting wave thrown over his shoulder.

"Who was that?" asked John.

"No idea," mused Sherlock. He blinked and shook his head. "That was most peculiar."

Months later, Sherlock and Jack are sitting in a fancy restaurant far away from Baker Street, trying to minimize the amount of people that would see them. Together.

Jack was looking over the table at Sherlock with a soft smile, a million thoughts running across his mind. The most prominent one was how badly he was falling for the detective across from him.

"What?" asked Sherlock.

Jack shook his head, the smile not leaving his face. "Do you want to go back to my place after this?" He looked up at Sherlock with nervousness in his eyes.

Sherlock's eyes seemed to sharpen at the question but he said nothing for several moments. He opened his mouth to respond but Jack cut him off.

"I didn't mean like that," he said with panic. "I just meant that it is still early in the evening, and John isn't expecting you for a few more hours, and I really don't want this to end here tonight." He inhales deeply and exhales heavily. "It was just a suggestion." He laughed at himself. If only the Doctor could see me now, he thought, He'd be proud of me.

Sherlock nodded slightly. "We could do that, yes," he said slowly.

Jack's eyes lit up. "Really?" Sherlock nodded once more and Jack's smile grew. "Great! I'll cover this tab." He stood and wandered toward the front desk, digging his wallet out of his jacket pocket.

Sherlock followed behind silently. His hands were clasped behind his back, his face carefully neutral, hiding the slight panic that was occurring in his mind. He wasn't sure what Jack was expecting of him tonight. They had messed around before, wandering kisses, hands, and mouths, and he was okay with it. He allowed himself to enjoy it even, but he wasn't entirely sure if he was ready for more.

Jack turned around and grinned at him and they walked out together. They walked down the street in silence. Jack's mind was racing with nerves. He grimaced at the condition he left his flat in. Most of his stuff was in Cardiff, but he brought the essentials with him. It was surprising how much the essentials were, but his team needed to feel like he was coming back, and he was. At some point. His flat wasn't too far away; it took them a good ten minutes to get there. He dug the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door at the bottom.

"Nice enough," commented Sherlock. "Been here long?" His mind was racing backwards trying to figure out if he ever saw a new tenant move in. His mind clicked and his pulse raced. "Er,"

"I know, I know. He's usually down at the bar at this time. Don't worry about it," soothed Jack. The door finally unlocked and they walked up the stairs. "Greg is just down the hall," he said, trying to keep the nervous tremor out of his voice.

"I know," replied Sherlock. "John helped him move in." Sherlock followed Jack through his front door, and shut it quietly behind him.

"Pardon the mess," smiled Jack, his cheeks flushing a light pink. "I wasn't expecting anyone."

Sherlock nodded stiffly. "I don't mind," he said softly, uncertainly. He kept his eyes trained on the wall behind Jack, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Come on in," smiled Jack. "I'll take your coat," he said as he shrugged his own off. "The sofa is nicer than the door."

Sherlock began to take his coat and scarf off but then paused at his last comment. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled the rest of his jacket off. "Thank you Jack." He followed Jack into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

"Relax Sherlock. I'm not going to try anything." I like you too much to scare you off like that. "Let me get you a beer."

"I'm fine, thanks."

Jack sat back down on the couch and relaxed into the cushions. "What was that case you were working on?"

"Oh. Man was stabbed three times by a simple kitchen knife. No sign of struggle."

"No, not that one. I know about that one. Greg is stumped by it. I'm thinking about stepping in, but that wasn't the one I was talking about. That time I ran into you. I was on my way to see an old friend, but I didn't catch you afterword."

"Oh." Sherlock thought back ten months' worth of cases, waiting until the memory of being run into surfaced. "That one was easy enough. Man had disappeared, but he went to the Americas with the help of the same cars man that was involved in one of my first cases with John." He relaxed into the sofa as well, facing Jack with his torso. "How'd you know I was on a case that day?"

Jack grinned. "At the time, I didn't. After spending time with you, I learned you get a face when there's a case."

"A face?" Sherlock immediately wondered if it was the same face as his 'we both know what's going on here' face.

"Yeah. You always look very focused, and your posture is very ridged and unwelcoming." Jack grinned and nudged his knee with his foot. "It's when I know when I should go out with you."

"And that is?" Sherlock was confused with the statement, though he would deny it.

"When you're in the middle of a particularly stumping case, like your current one, I take you out to get your mind as much off it as it ever is." Jack's eyes sparkled at his cleverness.

Sherlock was startled by his partners thinking. He hadn't ever connected them, but it made sense when he said it aloud. "You said you might step in with this case. Why? You aren't any sort of cop or detective."

Jack shrugged. "We all have our secrets."

"Secrets. Yes. Most do. Not from me." Sherlock's brow furrowed in concentration. He looked around the room looking for any sort of help, but all he found was a backpack. "There's nothing here," he murmured. "I don't understand."

"I know how to hide my tracks Sherlock. I've been doing it for years, and I learned from the best. Just drop it, okay? If this," he motioned between them, "goes further, I'll tell you what I do."

"Fine."

"Thank you."

"What did you mean, goes further?" Sherlock's voice was quiet and unsure. He felt like his chest was being squeezed painfully, he couldn't seem to breathe normally.

"Nothing like that! I'm fine where we are there, Sherlock. Don't worry about that. Please." Jack pleaded.

The tightness in his chest eased a bit, but it got worse with the next thought that crossed his mind. His heart constricted, and beat twice as hard. "Then what?" His voice was soft. "I don't," he inhaled deeply and continued, "I don't understand."

"I know," replied Jack. "Come here." Jack opened up on the couch welcoming the slightly smaller consulting detective curl into his side. He ran a hand through Sherlock's soft curls, feeling him relax further. "It isn't a big deal. Just let it flow, Sherlock."

"I don't know what to do," whispered Sherlock. He closed his eyes to try and block out the feelings that were surfacing, but he was failing. "Jack."

"It's okay," soothed Jack. "It'll be okay. Just relax." Some of it was meant for his own mind, but it didn't seem to work. He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's head.

Sherlock leaned into Jack's body and closed his eyes, giving into the pleasure that Jack was giving his scalp. He let out a hum of contentment, and a soft smile appeared on his face. They sat in silence for several long moments, both content with just being with each other.

Jack smiled and rested his head on Sherlock's softly. He could feel Sherlock getting heavier and heavier as he drifted into unconsciousness. He kissed the top of his head before he pulled Sherlock's mobile out of his pocket. He quickly pulled up recent texts and sent John a message. Sherlock fell asleep. I'm not going to wake him; he looked beat with this case. When he wakes he'll be back. -JH

He silenced the phone and put it on the side table. He wrapped his arms around the sleeping detective and closed his own eyes, willing, hoping, praying sleep would just happen tonight. "Doctor," he breathed, "I found someone. You'd like him. Maybe you'll come back to London so you could meet him. Or maybe not. I'm not in contact with Martha much anymore, I should fix that. Maybe she's seen more of you recently. Either way, it doesn't much matter. I wish you could help me with this. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what to do next. I love him, but I can't tell him. Help me, Doctor," Jack prayed. He slowly moved himself out from under Sherlock and gingerly picked him up, careful not to jostle him too much. He carried him to his bedroom, placing him on the bed. He removed Sherlock's shoes, and wrapped the blankets around him. He kissed his forehead softly and went back to the door. He gave the consulting detective one last glance before he shut the door quietly, letting him sleep.

"Jack?" asked a rough voice from the door.

Jack sat up on the couch, book in hand. "You're awake." He glanced at the clock and smiled.

Sherlock made a noise of agreement. "What time is it?"

"Quarter after four."

Sherlock groaned. "John won't be sleeping." He stuck his hand in his pocket looking for his phone.

"Don't worry about it. I texted him earlier, telling him you'd be around after you woke."

"With my mobile?"

Jack nodded. "As much as I love Johnny boy, I seem to have forgotten to get his number. See, I preferred his tall, dark haired companion." Jack's smirk returned to his face.

Sherlock flushed at the comment but said nothing.

"You want to go back to sleep? Or do you want food? Or," Jack trailed off, leaving his options open.

"I don't normally sleep for more than an hour at a time on a case," said Sherlock.

"I am aware. Thus why I let you sleep."

"Why did I sleep for so long?" Confusion was thick in Sherlock's voice, as well as his face. "I don't understand." Jack simply looked at Sherlock, not sure what to say to ease the confusion. Sherlock came and sat next to Jack once more, curling into him without a word. Jack wrapped his arm around his partner's shoulders but remained silent. "I've never done that before."

"Noted."

Sherlock sat in silence, his mind racing once more. Jack began to run his fingers through Sherlock's hair once more, a noise of encouragement coming from Sherlock. The soothing feeling of Jack's fingers quieted his mind, and he quickly fell back asleep, despite his best efforts.

"Gotcha," Jack whispered with a smile. The thought crossed his mind to check to see if John had responded to him, so he grabbed the phone off the table, shocked to see five different messages. Asleep? He doesn't sleep on cases. -JW Jack? What is wrong? Don't tell me.. no I don't want to know. Just send him home when you're done. -JW Jack? It's been two hours. - JW Is he really asleep? Did you both die? - JW I'm not sleeping until I hear from you dammit. Are you both okay? - JW

"Shit," he swore. He sent off a quick message back to John. Sherlock is fine. I'm fine. Go to bed John. He really is just asleep. He'll be back in the morning. After he wakes. -JH He put the phone back on the table and picked up Sherlock once again. He carried him to his not needed bedroom and tucked him in the blankets. Jack hesitated at the door again, but gave in. He kicked off his shoes and socks and crawled into the bed as well, pulling Sherlock in close.

Sun was shining through the window in his room, bringing Jack from his peaceful almost sleep. He opened his eyes and was met with Sherlock's gaze. "Morning sleepyhead," whispered Jack.

"Morning," rasped Sherlock. He looked at Jack with a question in his eyes, but didn't voice it. Instead, he slowly leaned in and kissed him.

Jack looked at him in surprise, but kissed him back. He placed a gentle hand on the side of Sherlock's face and kissed him harder. He nibbled on Sherlock's lip bringing a moan from the man. Jack smirked against his lips and rolled them over so he was hovering over Sherlock.

"Jack," gasped Sherlock. "Jack, wait."

Jack nibbled his way down Sherlock's neck. "Hmmm?" he hummed. His fingers ran under the hem of Sherlock's shirt that had come un-tucked amidst sleeping.

Sherlock gasped at the cold fingers on his torso. "Jack, wait," he repeated.

Jack pulled back and looked at Sherlock. "What is it?"

"What am I doing here?"

Jack's eyebrow rose in response. "Here as in with me or here as in my bed?"

While he had stopped kissing Sherlock's neck, his fingers continued to trace circles just under the hem of his shirt. "Both?" he gasped as Jack found a particularly sensitive spot.

"You fell asleep last night, I carried you back in here." He kissed the detective's forehead and continued, "And I'm sincerely hoping you're still here because you like me."

"Oh." Sherlock brought a hand up to grasp the back of Jack's head and brought his head back down to kiss him.

Jack took it as encouragement and moved his hands further up his torso, tracing familiar circles of foreign words of love and endearment. He let Sherlock breathe again and kissed his way back down his neck, finding himself at the collar of the rumpled purple shirt. He brought his hands up and began unbuttoning the shirt slowly, looking up to gauge Sherlock's reaction. At each button, he kissed his way down to the next one. Soon the shirt was completely undone, and Jack kissed his navel softly, making Sherlock jump violently.

"Jack!" Sherlock's hand gripped the base of Jack's head tightly. "Stop. Stop. Please."

He immediately stopped, looking up worriedly at his friend, his lover. "What is it?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I have to go. I have to get back." He started to push on Jack's shoulders and struggled to sit up.

Jack didn't fight him when pushed. He immediately sat up on his heels. "What happened? What did I do? I thought, you were, you looked, Sherlock?" His eyes were full of nothing but worry.

"I have to go. Jack, I have to go. I don't know, I don't, I have to go," Sherlock stammered, fingers quick on buttoning his shirt back up. He looked back up at Jack, his eyes full of panic.

"Sherlock," began Jack as he moved off of him altogether. He watched with panicked eyes as Sherlock jumped off the bed and to the door, grabbing his shoes as he fled. Jack followed swiftly and caught him as he was pulling on his jacket. "Sherlock wait. Before you go, what changed? What happened?" he pleads.

Sherlock shook his head. "I, I, I, go. Yes. I must go," he stammered. "I will, ah, call? Later? Yes. I will call later, Jack." He then turned and walked out the door without another word.

Jack was left staring out the open door in disbelief. He opened his mouth several times as if to say something, an apology, anything, but nothing came out. He eventually shut the door and leaned against it, hitting his head on it several times.

A buzzing sound filled his flat and he dashed to the table. Sherlock had forgotten his phone. He saw it was John calling and immediately picked up. "Hello?"

"Jack," greeted John. "Um. I'm not quite sure went down last night, or this morning, or whatever, but Sherlock looks shaken up pretty bad."

"Damn it. Tell him I'm sorry will you?"

"Yeah, I'll tell him. Um. Obviously, he forgot his phone, and he would like it back."

"Where would he like me to meet him?"

"Er," started John and he cleared his throat. "Can you meet me down at Speedy's for lunch?" His voice was soft.

Jack didn't miss the pronoun change, but didn't acknowledge it out loud. "Yeah, absolutely. What time?"

"One?"

Jack looked up at the clock on the wall on the wall. Four hours. "Yeah. I can do that."

"See you then, Jack."

"Bye, John," he said to an empty line.

"He will be down there at one," John called across 221B. He was met with silence. He walked to Sherlock's room and knocked lightly. "What happened, Sherlock?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Leave me be, John."

"Am I meeting him then?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Go, I need to think."

"Alright then. I will be ready to go at twelve fifty-five. Join me if you want." John left the room with a frown on his face.

Sherlock relaxed into his bed and let his mind go a million different places. He wasn't sure what to do. He had heard Jack talking to some man named Doctor. He wasn't sure what that was about. Why would this Doctor care about Jack? And why would he care that Jack had found someone? Who was Martha? He was full of questions, but the biggest one was, did he really love him? Love? He wasn't sure what love was, he had severed that line long ago, after Mycroft took over Mum. Sherlock thought that maybe he could love this man back. He cared for him, a lot. Like he did for John, but it was different. He was protective over John, but not over Jack. With Jack, it was almost like a longing to be around him. He always wanted to be wrapped in the strong embrace the man had.

Sherlock shook his head and pressed his palms to his eyes. He looked over at the clock and was surprised to see it read 12:50. He immediately went to his closet and pulled out a different shirt and buttoned it up faster than he had that morning. He slipped his shoes on and swept out the door. "John, I won't be needing you to meet Mr. Harkness. I am capable to go," he announced.

"Are you sure? It's no trouble, Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded once. "I'll be fine. I need to discuss things with him. It gets to be too much, I'll call you. Or have Mrs. Hudson call you." At that, he swept out the door, pulling his suit coat off the hook. He pulled it on as he danced down the stairs. He walked out the front door with purpose, a flush to his normally pale face. He waited by the door until he noticed the figure on the corner across the street. He had his hand over his face. Sherlock took a deep breath and took a step forward, crossing the street.

He walked by Jack and said simply, "Follow me." He continued walking without a single hitch in his stride. He knew Jack would follow him, so he continued on.

Jack looked up at the familiar voice and watched as he kept walking. He followed Sherlock through the streets of London, until they were far enough from Sherlock's flat Sherlock felt safe. He followed the consulting detective into the restaurant and sat across from him. "I, uh, hi," greeted Jack, a nervous smile on his face.

"Hello," greeted Sherlock. He put his fingers in a steeple and looked steadily at Jack. "Did you mean what you said last night?"

Jack's eyes widened. "Last night. Refresh my memory, I said a lot last night."

"When you were talking to this Doctor figure. You said something. I want to know if you meant it."

"I meant everything I said to the Doctor." There was no question in his voice. "I wasn't aware you heard me. I thought you were asleep, again."

"I thought I was dreaming," murmured Sherlock. He averted his eyes and studied the table cloth intently.

"Look, that wasn't meant for you to hear, so, if you want to just delete it from your mind, that's completely okay with me," said Jack in a rush. He was so afraid he scared away the only man other than the Doctor he cared about. He just wanted to fix things.

"I can't delete it."

"Why not? You have before? With the solar system," Jack smirked, holding back a laugh.

Sherlock glared at him from across the table, but his lips held a hint of a smile. "This is more personal." He drummed his fingers together for a short moment. "Do you have my mobile?"

Jack fished in his pocket for the familiar phone and slid it across the table at him. "Not a scratch on it."

Sherlock smiled. "Good." He raised his eyes to the man across the table from him. The man that had the secrets. The man who had captured his attention all those months ago. He took a steadying breath and blinked slowly. "I can't promise you anything, Jack." Jack opened his mouth to respond, but Sherlock held up a hand to stop him. "Let me finish. I don't know what to do. These things, emotions, are odd. I haven't felt them since I was six. I severed anything related to them. You bring them back, and I don't know what to do with it." He took another breath before continuing. "I still want to give this a chance, Captain Jack Harkness."

A smile broke across Jack's face that hadn't been there since he learned Rose was still alive. "I'm so glad to hear that, Sherlock Holmes."