"John," said Sherlock as he sat down. He'd just returned from a case, which John had neglected to join him on because 'his knee was bothering him.' Sherlock knew that this wasn't the problem. It was really that John had stayed up late again the previous night, plagued by night terrors about the war. They'd only started up again recently, probably triggered by the explosions they'd encountered on some recent cases.

Sherlock felt bad for his best friend, but wasn't entirely sure what to do. He'd never had someone to care about as he did John, and he'd never had much intimate experience with emotion before John. Even so, Sherlock wasn't entirely sure there was anything he could do. Even Anderson could've seen that John was trying to hide his night terrors from Sherlock. Sherlock had no idea whether or not to confront him about it. With anyone else, he'd have no problem being up front about it. But John made him question everything he did when Sherlock was around him.

Sherlock had decided to just wait it out, he knew John's night terrors would go away eventually. He hoped it was soon, as he missed John on his cases. As much as he would hate to admit it, John did help him on his cases. And now, seeing John so tired, the light in his eyes constantly fading, it pained him. A part of him despised that it did. Most of him just wanted to make it better.

John's dim eyes looked up from his paper.

"Yes?" he responded.

"I- I think-" Sherlock hesitated. Coming home from the case, he's been so sure of what he was about to do. But now, looking at his flatmate, Sherlock lost nearly all of his resolve.

"What, Sherlock?"

The pale man blushed, something he'd never done, before answering, "I, um, I think I love-" This was it. Could he do it? "This, er, program, on the television." Damn. He'd missed his chance.

"Since when do you watch television?" John pressed, his face contorted in confusion. Sherlock was caught. He sighed. Only John, he thought. Only John.

"Oh, well, it just was on and distracted me."

"What's it called?"

Sherlock was well and truly flustered, a sensation he'd almost never felt before. He decided that there was no way to talk himself out of this. He needed to do what he came to do. "It's- Oh, nevermind that. John, listen. There's something I need to tell you. Something very important."

"What is it?" John asked, intrigued. He was curious. Sherlock never got like this, so focused, when he wasn't doing work. John desperately wanted to know what was going through his mind. He always found it so curious how his best friend's mind worked. It was so strange. He got his answer, though, this time.

"John, I... I think I love you."

John sat there in silence for a moment. He had no idea what to say. So he said the only thing that came to his mind, the only coherent thought his mind could form, the only thing that made sense: "I think I love you too."

They both sat there for a moment, shocked at this revelation. Sherlock had never experienced a relationship, so he had no idea what to do. He let his instincts take over and do the work. He got up and pressed his lips to his best friend's, his flatmate's, his new lover's. He felt no response from John for 2, 3 seconds. But then Sherlock felt John kiss back with the same intensity Sherlock felt.

Sherlock pulled away soon, and look John straight in the eyes as he did so. John tried to maintain eye contact, tried to be as confident as Sherlock seemed, but he couldn't do it and looked away, blushing furiously. Sherlock saw and felt he had to do something.

"No, look at me," he said quietly. John brought his eyes back up to Sherlock's. After a moment, Sherlock said, "Your eyes are beautiful," which only succeeded in making John blush even more.

Even so, he tried to will the red away from his face and reply. "I... Y-yours are, too, Sherlock."

Sherlock pulled John in for another kiss after a moment's hesitation. John didn't even think before kissing back this time. They continued for another couple minutes before Sherlock ended it. He kissed John on the forehead and said, "Er, would you like some tea?"

John smirked before saying, "Since when do you make tea, Sherlock?"

"I've alway liked tea," said Sherlock slightly indignantly.

John just smiled again and said, "But you've never made it."

"I've seen you do it."

"You want me to make you tea." John sighed inwardly. Of course, he thought. But he didn't mind.

"No, let me make it. I was just saying I've seen you make it," said Sherlock. John was seeing a new side of Sherlock. Could Sherlock be being... thoughtful?

Sherlock got up and walked towards the kitchen and John followed him, knowing he'd need all the help he could get.

"So," said Sherlock after he'd gotten out all the materials he'd need. "I just, er, boil this water and then, um, put some bags in the kettle?"

"Yes," answered John with a smile. Sherlock started to fill the kettle and set it on the stove. He'd just gotten the stove on when he knocked over the kettle with his elbow. "Oh, god," he said. He looked to John for assistance, and John got out a rag to wipe up the water and refill the kettle. Once he was done, he kissed Sherlock on the cheek and said, "You tried." Sherlock kept his face adamant, refusing to admit defeat, but slowly he let out a smile anyway.

"I love you, John," he said.

"I love you, too, Sherlock. Now go sit down and I'll make you some tea."

Instead of sitting down as John had instructed, Sherlock leaned in and kissed John full on the mouth as he grabbed his shirt and pulled him to the couch. "Come on," he said. John tried to pull away, confused, but that only made Sherlock draw him in closer. He pulled John down to the couch with him and kissed him, slowly unbuttoning John's shirt. John let him keep going, confused but enjoying it.

Just as things started to get heavy, the tea kettle screamed from the kitchen and they both jumped up. John walked over to the kitchen, too embarrassed to make eye contact right then, and poured out two mugs of tea. He brought them back and handed one to Sherlock as he sat down and let Sherlock's arm snake around him.

Once they'd both finished their tea, Sherlock got up and said, "It's been a long day. I should probably get to bed," and started slowly making his way towards him bedroom. Just before he left the room, he paused and turned around.

"John," he said. "You know, I wouldn't really mind it if... Well, if you joined me..."

John sat for a moment before getting up and taking Sherlock's hand.

"Sherlock. I'd like that." He kissed Sherlock on the cheek before saying, "I guess it turns out that Mrs. Hudson is prophetic. We won't be needing that second bedroom after all."