Please review, still in progress, rated T for safety later on and such. Check out my other Johnlock stories too, reviews help a lot, constructive critisism also welcome! Enjoy :)

John:

John Watson lived with his best friend- Sherlock Holmes. Together they solved crimes and he blogged about them. John was an army doctor and served in Afghanistan before he was shot and sent home. His life was boring and meaningless before he'd met the man he calls his best friend. Instantly John settled into his new life at 221B and the dangers associated with it. His psychosomatic limp disappeared, he made friends, people cared about him, life was good.

John sat in his chair, pondering how he'd become so lucky to fill this spot in the universe, to be happy and well off. Sherlock burst through their door, clutching a piece of paper, face contorted in annoyance. John looked up from his lap to gaze at the man. Sherlock grunted and flopped on the couch. "Bored." Sherlock groaned into the cushion. "Didn't have anything at the Yard?" John asked. Sherlock held up the paper, face still mushed in the couch. John rolled his eyes, stood up and plucked the paper from Sherlock's slender hands. It was blank. John turned it over in his hands, face moulding into confusion.

"Uh, Sherlock, what's this about?" John asked. Sherlock flipped like a fish on the couch, now facing the ceiling. "Lestrade gave me this in an envelope and told me to go away, I left, assuming this would keep me busy but no! It's a bloody stupid piece of paper. When I returned to Scotland Yard the doors were locked!" Sherlock groaned out. John just chuckled.

Sherlock:

Why did John have to be so adorable when he smiled? Sherlock grunted in frustration due to his lack of being able to close the distance between them. John thought of him as just a friend. The noise passed as annoyance of boredom. Sherlock's feelings for the doctor had been increasing steadily, and the want become more of a need, it was getting unbearable. John stood up and walked up to his room, presumably retiring early to pick up a book for the night. It was only 6:30 and neither had eaten dinner. Not a problem, Sherlock had lasted days without food before. Sherlock sat up, rubbing his hair, thinking. How could he get John?

This was too much… feelings. He wasn't used to it. He needed help. Flipping on his coat, Sherlock strode out of the room, shooting a quick text to Greg to stay at the station a bit longer. Upon arriving at the yard, Sherlock realized he didn't know what he was going to say. Before he could think about it, Lestrade opened the door and let Sherlock in. Without a word the two men walked into a small, bare office and sat on either side of a desk.

"Alright Sherlock, what's the problem?" Greg asked, raising his eyebrows. "Um, John needs advice… uh, he likes this girl at his work and doesn't know how to approach her." Sherlock blurted out, eyes darting back and forth. His (in his mind) brilliant excuse just received a hearty laugh. Sherlock looked taken aback, what did he say?

"Oh Sherlock, this is about your feelings for John isn't it." Sherlock shied away. "So what If it was." Lestrade sighed and responded, "Sherlock, if you want advice it's okay to admit it." Sherlock, still looking at his lap caved, "Alright fine I need advice. How do I approach John? And is it really that obvious that I like him?" Lestrade beamed and happily complied to answer. "There is no doubt in my mind that you love him simply from the way you look at him when he's not looking. It's like… he's the only person that matters, like he's the brightest star in the sky, the only time you look vulnerable is when he's talking to you, shall I continue?" Greg said still smiling. Sherlock blushed. "Erm, no, advice?"

Lestrade was still grinning stupidly. "Well, you could flat-out tell him," Greg suggested. Sherlock dismissed this idea with a wave of his hand. "If you do not offer up a debatable idea I will render you useless." Sherlock coldly replied. Greg stopped smiling. "Wow, you're really serious. Alright, uh, you should drop some hints, let him know that you're there for him, that you will listen to anything he has to say, compliment him, um, you could take him out on a date-" Sherlock held up his hand, stopping the man mid-sentence. "What if I say I'm interested in someone else and ask for his advice and help to proceed? I could ask for his help practising and then reveal that I actually like him!" Sherlock grinned and is eyes widened in glee at his plan.

"Yeah, you could do that," Greg shrugged and before he could say goodnight, Sherlock was up and calling a cab, coat swishing behind him.

Sherlock had been gone for an hour now. Where could he be? John was about to head out the door looking for him before the front door slammed and he heard footsteps racing up the steps. "Sherlock, everything alright?" John asked as Sherlock bounded through the door for the second time that day, panting. "Alright, great, brilliant!" Sherlock giddily shouted. Perplexed, John shook his head and receded to his room. Sherlock went into his own room, planning for his 'fake-but-not-really-fake-date tomorrow.