"Here,take my hand" John grabbed it, unthinking. After all the cuffs made doing anything else rather difficult. That said, it didn't stop the tingle John felt at his touch, not just because their hands were cold. "Of course I'd be thinking about that right now when we've just become fugitives"John muttered to himself, confident that Sherlock hadn't heard a word over the traffic and the constant noise of their footfalls as they ran. Even though his fist still throbbed from punching the director, and he was running from the police and his home, he was in pure bliss, Sherlock had never allowed this level of contact, and John couldn't seem to get enough.
Sherlock studied John carefully as he grasped his hand, waiting to see how he'd react to sudden contact. He'd had his suspicions that John felt something for him, more than just friends or flatmates. It intrigued him. Mostly because he had realised quite suddenly (after spending some time watching himself in a mirror) that he reacted the same way. The slight pupil enlargement and raised heart rate all pointed to one increasingly obvious conclusion: he was in love with John. Kind,caring, loyal,straight John. He'd heard John say it enough. These... Feelings were one sided. Only one way to know for sure. It was getting darker by the minute anyway and he could feel the tiredness oozing off of John. "Let's get a room for tonight, the search will start again in the morning."
John sighed with relief, he may have been in the army but he hadn't run that much in years. Sherlock never ceased to amaze him. The man had barely eaten a thing all day and yet he hadn't stopped running. Nor had he let go of the tight grip he had on Johns hand. It felt nice, safe evento have the detective so near to him. "Alright, I take it you already have a place in mind?" Sherlock smirked and continued at the same pace as before but now visibly leading. They ran for another kilometre or so until they reached a small hotel. It was perfect, secluded enough to be a hide out but near enough to society to give the safety of witnesses.
Trust Sherlock to pick a hotel that supplied kettles and mugs to each guest to go with the abundance of tea and coffee available in their room. Their room. Sherlock had hesitated when the clerk asked what they wanted, settling on a twin bed suite. As they walked (cuffs removed) to the lift there was a question on Johns lips, he could see the unrest in Sherlock's had made a shhh gesture with his hand before John had even opened his mouth. It was in silence that they entered their room.
Sherlock felt strange fluttering in his stomach and it unnerved him. It must have shown on his face because John was quick to try and grill him. Sherlock was not ready to try answer the questions he knew were coming quite yet. The room was nice, although the cleaner who had stripped his bed was having several affairs with staff members, Sherlock had no real objections to the room. Unless the fact that John's bed was not part of his own counted. He stripped off his coat, enjoying the secretive glances that John gave. He'd worn the purple shirt on purpose just because he knew John liked clambered onto the couch and shut his eyes, hands nestled under his chin. It was time to play the waiting game.
Sherlock had immediately gone to his mind palace when John was going to bring up his questions again, and John couldn't tell if it was on purpose or not. He was worn out in any case and ripped off his clothes in relative silence. The lights were off already and John collapsed into bed almost instantly. He stirred and awoke hours later to find a semi nude Sherlock Holmes in his bed facing him, green eyes hard at work, scrutinizing John's face.
"John?" he whispered, gulping down something that sounded like fear. It was written all over his face. He had his arms up, covering his chest, defending himself. "Mmm?" John grunted back, still drowsy. "John, I... I have realised that... Its about time I told you that I have feelings for you." J was stunned. For one that Sherlock had said anything at all but mainly because he felt the same way John did. Sherlock took the prolonged silence to mean rejection and blushed deeply, hoping that he hadn't just lost his one and only friend, and the man he loved. He made to leave Johns bed, feeling more empty than he had ever felt before. He didn't want to be alone. He needed his John.
"Sherlock, I feel the same way" John murmured, grabbing his pale wrist and pulling him back to lie with him. John scooted over to make more room for the tall man to lie down comfortably and smiled broadly at the look of relief and hope on Sherlock's face. John grabbed Sherlock's hand and nestled close to him until he had soft curls on his shoulder. Sherlock listened to the steady sound of John breathing and began to doze off.
For now, knowing that he was not alone was enough to kill the nightmares of losing him, and waking up next to John would definitely reassure him that everything would be okay. It always would be with John. Sherlock felt lips brush lightly off his head, and his whole body relaxed for the first time he could remember since his drug days. "Goodnight" John whispered and, with a contented sigh, they slept, wrapped in the safety of the others arms.