Won't Lose You

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. .gay

"So, John. It's Sunday, we have no cases, and I'm bored." Sherlock sighed, exasperated, before plopping himself face first onto the couch.

"If you're looking for some suggestions, I'd be happy to help." John said emotionless

as he read the paper. Sherlock gave a quiet groan in approval.

"Telly?"

"Too predictable." Sherlock muffled while getting up to make some coffee.

"Um… Museum?"

"Too bland."

John sighed and put down his newspaper to look at Sherlock. "You ought to get out for a but, you know?"

"And do what?" Sherlock groans. "Your suggestions don't fit my taste and you know that." Sherlock grinned and looked John in the eye, then accidentally dropping a whole pack of sugar cubes into his coffee. "Dammit." he swore under his breath.

"We could could… get out for a bit…?" "John nervously asked while hiding his face behind his newspaper again. He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him, filled with curiosity.

"Dinner." Sherlock abruptly said after a moment of silence. John was caught off-guard.

"I'm sorry, what?" he tried to conceal the excitement in his voice. "Dinner. Let's have dinner." John's mouth was open in disbelief.

"I - uh…" John coughed and lowered his voice. "Yeah. Um. OK. That could work."

Sherlock half smiled at John's confused face, then stalked off to his room." Be ready by ^:00." he said fast, then shut his door. John exhaled with relief, sat himself back down, and continued reading the paper hesitantly.

~5:55~

Sherlock paced back and forth in his room, his hands glued under his chin. He took fast glances at himself in the mirror and fixed his hair for the seventh time. Sherlock you idiot." He took a deep breath and brushed off his suit. "5:59" His watch read. "It's just John. You don't need to be nervous." he told himself. Sherlock? Almost ready?" John knocked loudly. Sherlock inhaled and quickly opened the door. "It's just John," he repeated mentally. John stood nervously before Sherlock in a beige plaid and suit. He smirked and turned red as Sherlock looked him up and down in shock. John was opening his mouth to say something as Sherlock interrupted.

"OH FU-" he yelled then slammed the door in John's face. "Look at John… so confident and cute. Sherlock, come on! For the love of god, get out of there." He said out loud and ran his fingers through his hair. I'm sure that John isn't nervous, so why should I be?"

"Actually…" John whispered from the other side of the door. As soon as Sherlock realized what just happened, he picked up a book and threw it out his bedroom window. "Sherlock, I'm as nervous as you are. I've never done anything like this before and I feel so strongly about you. Let's have dinner, like you planned." John sighed. "It's just me."

Sherlock laughed with relief and opened the door. He was about to apologize, but he was interrupted.

"Boys!" Mrs. Hudson's voice boomed from downstairs. "Come down!"

Sherlock and John both chuckled and started to walk down. In the middle of the staircase, John stopped abruptly, and slowly grabbed Sherlock's hand. Sherlock looked up into John's eyes with confusion.

"Just. Me." John gave Sherlock's hand a small squeeze, then continued walking down.

"So, I was thinking you could-" Mrs. Hudson strolled over, then froze once she saw John and Sherlock holding hands. "Nevermind." She smiled and started pushing them out the door. "You boys have fun." She winked at them, causing them both to groan in embarrassment.

~Local Restaurant~

"So… John…" Sherlock tried to make a conversation but failed, making the night more awkward than it needed to be. "I need to go to the restroom." He stood up quickly and turned red.

"Do you know where it is? I don't recall ever coming here with you." John asked with genuine concern.

"I'll find it." Sherlock smiled and walked away from the table. Three minutes later, as he was walking back, he saw two girls next to John who seemed to be flirting with him. "Oh, John. You flirt with everyone, don't you…" He thought to himself. Sherlock walked over angrily.

"Oh, um. Sherlock… This is-" John struggled to explain but was interrupted by a strong hand grasping the collar of his shirt. He soon felt Sherlock's lips on his, kissing him passionately. The girls walked away, but Sherlock didn't seem to notice-or care. John let out a breath and started to say something, but was again interrupted by Sherlock. This time with a finger to his lips.

"Shh… John…" Sherlock sighed slowly, then slapped him straight across the face.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" John complained, ready to punch someone. He noticed Sherlock was grinning uncontrollably, and blushed.

"Let's go home, John." Sherlock mischievously said as he walked out the restaurant door. On the taxi ride back, Sherlock did nothing but stare at John and smile seductively, which somehow made John slightly uncomfortable, but also intrigued. They finally arrived at Baker Street, and Sherlock dragged John up the stairs eagerly. He began to quickly light candles that John didn't even know they had.

"Sherlock, are you sure you want to rush into this?" John awkwardly asked. "Do you know what you're doing?"

Sherlock manically laughed and threw his hands up in the air. "Dear god, John! Of course I don't know what I'm doing!" He yelled unstably. Silence followed. John stared at the ground and sighed. "You know what? Nevermind. Just nevermind, John. I'm a bloody idiot." Sherlock's eyes filled up with tears that he was obviously keeping inside for a long time. He began to walk back to his room.

"I love you." John blurted out, then met eye contact with Sherlock, who was dumbfounded. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, I love you." John pleaded as he also was starting to cry. "I'm sorry for anything I've said that has upsetted you in any way. I know that you always say caring and love are disadvantages, but I don't care. If loving you means that I do have some sort of disadvantage, then so be it. I lost you once. For two years. And dammit, Sherlock. I won't lose you again." Tears ran down John's face, but he didn't wipe them. "I. Won't. Lose. You. Again."

Sherlock didn't break John's gaze.

Neither of them dared to move. And neither of them wanted too, either.