John trembled, walking towards the other man nervously. Fuck this was so different – why did he have to be so nervous? Why couldn't he be brave, like his god-damn flat mate? But no, John had to be the freaking epitome of shyness and nerves. He couldn't even face his god-damn crush because he was so god-damn nervous.

Sherlock didn't even bother looking up at John as he played the Violin. What was that, Chopin or something? Whatever it was, it was doing a number on John's heart. Shit, were hearts supposed to beat that fast? Did Sherlock realize how gorgeous he looked when he pressed the bow down so lovingly? Did Sherlock realize what a turn on it was to watch him finger the strings, stroke them, play them… oh God.

John sighed. He really wished he could be noticed by Sherlock. Perhaps Sherlock would hear him playing some marvellous melody on an instrument [even though John couldn't even play to save his life] and then slowly he could realize that hey, this guy isn't so bad and maybe fall in love with him? Was that really too hard to ask for? Really?

"If you are going to stand there and gawk at me playing, you might as well sit down." John squeaked; he hadn't realized that Sherlock had actually seen him. Looking around desperately he grabbed the nearest chair and sat down quickly on it, trying to make as little sound as possible.

Sherlock didn't seem to mind John being there – in fact, it seemed as though Sherlock was having fun performing for John, playing intricate detailed pieces with his left hand while playing a steady melody with his right. John was enraptured with the performance. In fact, he was so enraptured; he didn't even notice the end of Sherlock's piece until Sherlock turned to face him, giving him a critical look.

"Did you like it?" Sherlock asked him quietly. John jumped.

"Y-yes. I-it was very b-beautiful." John's voice cracked at the last word, his face turning bright red. Sherlock makes no comment on it.

"Of course it was. It was Prelude in A Op. 28, No. 7," Sherlock said briskly. John had no idea what the hell that was, but nodded anyway. Sherlock peered at him. "You were on that blog of yours again, weren't you," Sherlock said suddenly. John felt his heart flutter – this might possibly be the first time that Sherlock showed some sort of interest! John didn't even care of Sherlock not following it– he hadn't thought about the possibilities of Sherlock being intrigued by his blog! John could possibly float on air, he was so happy at the moment.

"Ah- , y-yeah," John said quietly.

"Speak up, I can't hear you if you murmur," Sherlock replied briskly and John felt himself going pink again. Mentally he berated himself before being so stupidly quiet.

"I, said yes, Sherlock. Ok," John said louder.

"Of course you were, you always are," Sherlock said leaning slightly forwards towards John. John nearly swooned. Had Sherlock already the blog? Of course, this dark, raven haired, handsome man had already read it. Why wouldn't he have done so, he was Sherlock and curiosity was his core. At the thought and moment John wouldn't have minded if the world suddenly ended and he died because – Sherlock did care. "Now, why are you here?" John blinked at the sudden question.

"W-what?" John asked nervously.

"Why are you here? You hardly come to visit, except for…" Sherlock cleared his throat, looking away. John's heart squeezed. It must've been hard for Sherlock when John left the flat for a while [though why, John didn't quite understand the reasons why he had left in the first place]. "Answer my question," Sherlock said, glancing at John again. John gulped.

"Uh… well… you see… I came here for… the cat!" John exclaimed. Sherlock blinked at him. "Cat? A cat? That's all you could come up with John? A cat, we've never had a cat?" "Well I've always wanted to have a cat and Mrs Hudson would have loved its company but you always ended up yelling about how I was a stupid cat's were and never bothered listening when I tried expressing myself…" John blurted out. [Now he remembered why. He had left because of those reasons, the yelling.] Oh God he was starting to ramble. Rambling wasn't good – a guy like Sherlock didn't appreciate people rambling at him. John stopped talking, turning pink once more.

"Well what are you waiting for? Go on, express yourself, let the whole world here what you have to say" Sherlock said in a soft ironic tone, sliding to the side on the couch bench and beckoning for John to sit down. John blinked a few times before trembling over to Sherlock, sitting down nervously and making sure there was a space between them. Sherlock then placed the violin on John's laps "Go on," Sherlock smirked. John placed a trembling hand on the instrument. "No not like that," Sherlock said quietly, placing a hand over John's and smoothing it out correctly across the violin. "When playing violin you should keep your hands like this." John was sure his heart was going to explode if Sherlock kept his hand on his for much longer.

Thankfully Sherlock let go of him and John let out a sigh of relief. Also thankfully – he hadn't forgotten the minimal lessons he had gotten during his school years. He still managed to get through some of the scales before being stopped by Sherlock.

"I guess that's good for now," Sherlock said, stopping before John could continue to the D minor scale. "You're actually quite good for a beginner." John's ear tips turned pink from the praise. "Your next class will be tomorrow, 10 AM sharp. We will be beginning with a more detailed focus in the scales before working on your chords. Oh and I sincerely hope you find your 'cat'." John blinked at the sudden dismissal and nodded quietly; slightly disappointed in the fact he couldn't spend more time with Sherlock.

"T-thank you, Sherlock," John said, turning away quickly. A hand sudden grabbed his right wrist. John's heart flew into his throat.

"Thank you for visiting me. It's rather lonely around here sometimes with you no longer being here," Sherlock said quietly. John turned to face Sherlock when…

John was still numb with shock as Sherlock pressed his smooth lips against the left corner of John's lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow, 10 AM sharp," Sherlock said, striding past John and walking out of the room. John barely had time to register Sherlock's exit. The corner of his lip was still tingling from Sherlock's contact.

Mrs Hudson sighed, waddling up to John and padded the edge of John's shoulder. Figuring the young man would be too awestruck to his way out, she led John out of 221B Baker Street.

From across the street, facing he's once called home. "Yeah, 10 AM sharp. I'll be there," John Smiled at himself as he slowly turned to leave.

The End.