"Happy New Year, John." Sherlock said without looking at him.
"Do you think you'll be seeing her again?"
The detective didn't answer and turned toward him, starting playing the violin instead, turning again to face the window. Watson sat down on his chair, the glass still in his hand. He stared at the back of his flatmate's back, trying to do what Sherlock made look so simple: deducing.
And for once, it actually was. It was no secret, he cared for her even if he didn't show it like a normal human being.
John listened at the violin playing for what felt like an hour. When he opened his eyes again, at the end of the song, he scanned the room looking for Sherlock, noticing he wasn't anywhere to be seen.
The doctor sighed and took a big sip from the alcohol in his glass, putting it down on the table next to his chair. He rose from his seat, reaching the tall man's bedroom and leaning on the doorframe.
"You know she's just playing with you, right?" He asked to the detective, putting his hands in his cardigan's pockets and watching as he shut his phone.
"I don't know what you're talking about." The other replied, the phone already hid in his sleeve when he faced the doctor.
"There is no need to hide it. How stupid do you think I am? You probably just texted her to accept her bloody dinner invitation."
"As always, you prove yourself to have no deducing skills." Sherlock said bluntly, walking slowly until he was in front of Watson. "I just sent her my wishes. For the New Year, you know."
John grunted something, moving his eyes to the ground to avoid the other's clear gaze. It disturbed him sometimes to look into the other's eyes, seeing the huge amount of things the other knew and he was totally unaware of.
Of course, most of the times he forced himself to lock eyes with the detective, looking for some kind of humanity in them, for a weak spot. He was a soldier, for God's sake!, he killed people watching directly in their eyes, he could find a weakness in a man with just one look, but when it came to Sherlock he became as clueless as a Englishman in the space after the destruction of the Earth.
But still he couldn't allow himself to lost such a simple challenge with his flatmate, could he?
"John, why do you care so much?" Sherlock asked, causing him to look back up and stare dumbfounded at him.
Here it goes again, he's probably giving him his most stupid face, bloody hell.
"Isn't it you the one that said that feelings and that kind of things are an... Impediment for your work?" Watson replied, trying to sound at least a little bit clever.
"Wrong quotation but you get the point." The detective smirked, backing from his position and turning again. "But you didn't answer my question. Why do you care so much, since it would be an 'impediment' in our work?"
"Because I am not a heartless bastard like you, if you can 'get the point' of what I'm saying."
"But again, if I'm a 'heartless bastard' one would presume that I do not care at all, right?"
"Oh, bloody hell, shut up!" John roared, hands balled into angry fists. "Let's stop with this stupid game. And besides, you're the first who doesn't answer to questions. I asked you if you know that she's just playing with you."
"Oh John, John. As I just said you have no deducing skills. What makes you think that you're right?" Sherlock laughed, looking again at him.
"I don't think, I know it! She practically told me she is. I care about it because I don't want to see a depressed you ever again. It was terrifying." He replied angrily.
"She told you? How? I'm sure she didn't say it straight, so you probably misunderstood."
"Stop, just stop making fun of me! Sherlock, I'm being serious."
"Don't worry, I can see that. Fists, furrowed eyebrows, gritted teeth... You know that I know, so now tell me the things you know that I don't know because you're the one who knows them and probably doesn't know the real meaning of."
"And once again all I heard was: 'Please John, punch me in the face really, really hard, I deserve it!' Look, I know you give me no credit, but for once I am right. She thinks we are a couple!"
Sherlock looked at him for a moment with some kind of puzzled expression, lifted an eyebrow and just stood silently for what must have felt like a minute or two to him. But it was just a matter of seconds before he approached the doctor and stared at him as if he was studying a dead frog.
The only thing John hated more than Sherlock's blank stares when he thought were Sherlock's analyzing stare. And as hard as he tried, John couldn't avoid shifting his weight to his left leg, the good one.
He mentally cursed for that, blinking twice and looking back at the taller man.
"I see. So that's why you're so nervous? Because she thinks we are a couple? Or is it because you would like us to be one?"
"What the hell are you saying? Since when are you good at noticing other people's feelings toward you? Just look at what happened with Molly, she is after you since before I knew her." John replied bitterly, glaring at the detective.
"I don't live with her, and most importantly I don't care about her. Besides, she is better at hiding it. Or maybe is just that I know you better - I am not interested in it." Sherlock shrugged it off, going back to the point of the discussion. "But the way you tell me that I'm brilliant, the way you sometimes look at me and the way you write about me in your blogs makes me think that I'm right."
With that, Sherlock moved a bit closer, causing John to take a step back and cross his arms. Then he licked his lips.
"Ah, and now, there it is! That little tic of yours, plus that uncomfortable position and the way you move away from me... Summed to how badly you hit on girls, trying to get a girlfriend, maybe to convince me or yourself that what you really want isn't..."
"Shut your bloody mouth, Sherlock! For God's sake, Molly is absolutely right. You say the most inappropriate things all the times." He answered bitterly, looking away in defeat.
He didn't know if the other was right, nor he cared. He just wanted him to stop, because that, somehow... Hurt.
"Wrong quotation again." Sherlock said calmly, causing the doctor to look up at him and almost shout.
"I tried to be gentle! In vain, I suppose. And now don't tell me that I got one right or I will punch you for real."
Sherlock tilted his head to the side, still staring at his friend with that deducing and utterly annoying expression of his.
"You have no idea if you want me or not, do you?" He asked, still as calm as ever.
"What! Now stop that, I don't want you and I won't. Ever. Ever!"
"How can you know that? And most importantly, how oblivious has one to be not to notice his own feelings?" The taller man laughed again, lightly, and the sound sent a shiver of anger down John's spine.
"This is my last warning. One more word and I will punch you. You have no idea how much I liked it."
"Mh, I think I do. But," And once again Sherlock approached the shorter man, leaning on him "I also know how to make you less oblivious."
He said just that. That's all the warning John received. After that, Sherlock quickly lowered his face and pressed his lips against John's. Then he retreated, looking at his friend as he was shockingly staring back at him.
Now, you must know that what Sherlock expected was a bit different from what he got. He had deduced that John would:
stare at him like a deer in the flashlights for something like five minutes before turning and have a cup of tea or leaving the house to clear his thoughts;
get away in disgust as fast as possible, refusing to look at him for the next three and a half weeks due to embarrassment;
kiss him again, perhaps more passionately, maybe pushing him on the bed, likely realizing he wanted him, after all.
But then, Doctor John Watson did exactly what he ad promised to do, and punched him hard in the face.
"What the hell was that, Sherlock! Jesus Christ, never do that again!" John shouted, still shocked. But there was a blush on his face, as Sherlock supposed.
"I guess I should have count your self-defense reflex..." He mumbled massaging his cheek. "But I was right, you want me."
"What! How can you tell!" He exclaimed, exasperated.
"Your expression. There was something in your eyes and there's still something on your face. A blush. Embarrassment. You can't control that, and even if you deny it I know what you feel."
"That's it, I'm going to sleep at Mycroft's!"
"Don't act like a child, John, be a man!"
Once again, that was the last drop. John assaulted the taller man, who was ready to defend himself but didn't expect the other to launch himself. He fell for the weigh, his rear falling to the ground and his back hitting the side of the bed, Watson on top of him practically straddling his hips, hands on his jacket's hems.
"... Now, this was rather unexpected, John I didn't know that you were the dominating type, nor did I think that..."
He would have babbled forever, wasn't it for John's tone of voice.
"Stop. Now, right now, please, just... Stop, shut up once and for all."
It wasn't angry or anything like that. Sherlock could only describe it as tired as the other leaned in and put his head on his shoulder, sighing just as tiredly.
And strangely enough, Sherlock actually stayed in silence, staring rather blankly at the still opened door in front of him until John spoke again. And it took quite a bit.
"I am happy to know that she is alive. She's important to you, and as I said a depressing you is terrifying." He was quiet now, calmer, but still didn't seem intentioned in lifting.
"She's not." Sherlock said matter-of-factly, like he would have said it was night outside the window.
"... What?" John tried to stay calm, he really did. But at that he whipped his head up, staring dumbfounded at the consulting detective.
"I said she's not important to me. Do you think she's the only one playing games?" He replied with a smirk and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"Then what this all about?" Again he went with shouting at Sherlock.
What he got back was a hug, a rather awkward one.
"I thought it was the right moment and way to get you out of your closet." He said amused, the smirk still audible in his voice.
"I hate you so much right now." John groaned, blushing again and almost hiding his face against Sherlock's shoulder. "Made fun of me as always... Should have known it."
"Again, your deducing skills are-..."
"Quit it." He cut him off, going back at glaring at him, breaking the hug.
"Ok, fine. Happy New Year, John." Sherlock said, leaning again to kiss the other, who let him. "I wasn't making fun of you, I didn't want to tell you anything. Wouldn't have been flattering. Don't write of this on your blog, thanks."
"I won't as long as you will stop making fun of me. Next time you'll be allowed to mock my deducing skills," said the doctor, lifting from the ground and reaching out his hand to help the other "Will be the day you'll kissing skills will improve."
Both men smirked, and Sherlock grabbed his hand and looked at him in the eyes, seeming to be saying: 'Deal.'
But instead, he rose again and said: "Touché."