"I love you."
As soon as John said it, he squeezed his eyes shut. Oh shit.
Those words were never meant to come out. Not when he was in love with his genius, most likely asexual and very male flatmate.
He supposed he fell in love with Sherlock on the very first day they met, when he reeled out deduction after deduction about him simply by looking at his posture and his mobile phone.
He barely knew Sherlock, only found out that there was such an infuriating man several hours ago and already he shot a cabbie for him.
After the incident, John constantly questioned himself, asking why he was so willing to kill someone for someone who was practically a stranger. When Sherlock asked later on, John said he had already witnessed enough murders and that he couldn't bear to see another.
But in truth, he knew deep down that it was because he couldn't bear to live in a world where Sherlock did not exist. In a night, Sherlock managed to make the world bright and full of colour again after months and years of a colourless life.
But his world was turning into that colourless shade again, when Sherlock, his face disgusted and condescending, turned his back on John and stalked silently away.