"Do you have a boyfriend?"
The words repeated themselves over and over again in Sherlock's mind, whirring through his thoughts. The past year of living with John Watson had left many questions to be asked and even more unsaid queries to be answered. In time, Sherlock thought. Half of Scotland Yard already assumed they were together, as did Miss Adler, and hell, even Mrs Hudson! So why was it that John never mentioned anything other than his defense of 'we're not a couple!' when people questioned him? Was it really that unbearable to be thought of as Sherlock's partner? Perhaps so-Sherlock was never known to be sociable, affectionate, or god forbid lovable. Or rather that he WAS attracted to Sherlock but was afraid about being public about it?
Sherlock huffed an exasperated sigh. Why did John have to be so bloody DIFFICULT? Sherlock could deduce anyone and anything, with the exception of John's feelings about him.
John peered over his newspaper at Sherlock. "Everything all right, Sherlock?" Clad in his usual blue dressing gown with bare feet and disheveled black curls, Sherlock looked both worried, bored, broody, and exhausted all at once.
Sherlock glanced at John before running a hand through his thick hair.
"Fine, John. Just lovely." Sherlock stood up and stormed into the kitchen, grabbing a flannel and aggressively scrubbing a plate in the sink, muttering unintelligibly under his breath.
John sighed and rolled his eyes before folding his paper and stepping into the kitchen himself. He walked up behind Sherlock and tapped him on the shoulder.
"I think I have an idea about what this is all about." John said quietly. Sherlock kept his back to John.
"Ha. I highly doubt that, John." Sherlock spat, using John's own name and making it sound like an insult. "You couldn't possibly understand. You don't understand, and you never will." He tossed the flannel and plate back into the sink with a dramatic splash.
John chuckled. "Turn around, you miserable git."
Sherlock did.
John put one strong hand on the nape of Sherlock's neck and tugged him down into a kiss—not hot and passionate, yet not quite chaste and innocent—and pulled back, grinning.
"Does that answer your question?" John laughed.
"Oh god yes."