It was a cold, rainy october-night outside of Baker Street 221b.

Sherlock had curled up on the sofa, cloaked in his grey dressing gown, nose buried in a thick book about advanced forensics.

John had settled down on his opposite, sitting crosslegged in the black leather chair, laptop in his lap.

It was quiet, but not an uncomfortable kind of silence. Both of them minded their own business.

Until Sherlock broke the spell.

"I´m quite flattered."

"Huh? By what?"

"By your recent fascination of my person."

John just stared at him very irritated by the sudden statement.

"You´ve been staring in my direction for precisely five minutes.", Sherlock started explaining the twisted ways of his mind.

"It was either me or the book I´m reading that grabbed your interest, and since I don´t suppose you have developed a passionate affection towards the science of forensics it had to be me who occupied your thoughts."

He smiled at John as if to say `You know I´m right´.

John twitched slightly at the last words and looked down, blushing.

"I... uh... um I wasn´t...", but before John could even begin a proper sentence Sherlock interrupted him.

"Don´t deny it John. You often watch me when you think I don´t notice it."

John was now beet red, eyes openend wide like a deer exposed to a headlight, full of fright what would happen next.

Sherlock could see that his heart was pounding a fast beat in his chest.

For a few seconds there was silence again.

"So I am right."

Silence.

"The question now is, why are you doing it? I am neither young or old enough to require constant surveillance. Nor am I in constant danger to fall off a cliff anytime.

So could you please enlighten me and explain yourself?"

Again John just looked at him, this time confusion clearly showing on his face.

"So?"

After several seconds John slowly began to speak, his voice shaking slightly. "You really don´t get it." It was not a question but a surprised statement.

"I don´t get what?", Sherlocks voice sounded a bit angry, impatient.

John gulped. His heartbeat was still up. So was his breathing. His hands fiddled at the sleeves of his striped jumper.

Why was he so nervous? He almost behaved like Molly. Being nervous without any cause.

"You´re really bad at social matters" it should come out jokingly but the little laugh accompanying it was just a farce. It showed even more how antsy John felt inside.

"Then clear me up!"

"Well... I... I don´t know... it´s... you could find out if you just tried to..."

"So you´re giving me a riddle?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Kinda..."

"Good. Let´s see...", Sherlock said calmly "You observe me on various occasions for a short period of time. You think I don´t notice it, so it´s obvious you don´t want me to know.

You also get very nervous when I mention it. Your face colour changes from normal to crimson...

Well, I´m really quite unused to dealing with social affairs, but I would say you have developed a sexual interest towards me.

Which is a bit surprising since you stated clearly that you´re not my date towards the restaurant-keeper when we first met.

Also you´re going out with Sarah on a regular basis."

John looked down, and Sherlock knew he had hit home.

"What are we gonna do about it then?"

John looked up again right into his eyes. A mixture of surprise and fright showed on his face.

What was he expecting? That Sherlock would be disgusted? Throw him out of the flat?

"So you wanna do me. That´s OK. I could as well try it out. Maybe it´s a distraction from that damn boredom."

He said that while opening his dressing gown and tossing it on the floor.

John still hadn´t said anything, so Sherlock kept on talking.

"I assume you too have no sexual experience with men? Or was that the reason you joined the army? Only men?

No, or else you wouldn´t go out with Sarah..."

"Clung"

That was the sound of the door snapping into place.

Sherlock hadn´t seen John leaving. He had been pulling his black T-Shirt over his head.

Now the flat was empty besides him and the silence had returned.