"This is a big deal Sherlock. We've been sleeping together for six months. All I ask, is some confirmation that it's more than just sex to distract you when you are bored."
Why was it so hard? Why couldn't Sherlock see that John was in love with him. He could read everything else John did or thought. John had just asked for them to go public.
"John, it's not."
"It's not? I am just distraction for you? Fine, I should've known. I'm going to the bar. Don't stay up for me."
And with that he slammed the door shut.

Sherlock sighed. Why was it so hard? He loved John so much. So when John asked if they could tell their (mostly if not all John's) friends, he had said "sure, whatever you want" because he would do whatever John wants to do. But John had misread it as disinterest, and became mad. And from there everything had become only worse. And now John thought that he had only sex with him for distraction. And all he wanted to say was "John, it's not what I meant!" but John had interrupted before he could finish his sentence. That's why he hadn't bothered with love before: it hurts too much.

Sherlock sighed again and went to lay in their bed. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without John laying next to him. Like he couldn't eat without John forcing him to.
But the bed smelled like John. John wouldn't bother anyway. He would sleep in his own bed tonight. If he even came home. And when he got up, John would eat his breakfast without Sherlock.
Sherlock cried. It wasn't their first fight, but every time John walked out angry, Sherlock would cry. It was irrational, but a fact anyway.

As expected, Sherlock heard John stumble up the stairs, clearly drunk, to his own room.
As expected John's plate and mug were in the sink the next morning and the kettle was empty.
"John, is there any tea left?"
John ignored him. As expected.
Great, it was like a broken television: he had image, but no sound.
It was like that for an entire day. Sherlock hated it, he hated every time John was angry, but now it was even worse. He hadn't even done anything wrong!
He was pretty sure that for once just seducing John wouldn't help, he had to make sure that he amazed John. But how?

It wasn't until Lestrade called, that Sherlock had a plan. He smirked. If John wanted to go public, they will go public.

The case itself was easy: the grandfather did it of course, which other man ("Of course it's a man, Lestrade, she wears a blue shirt, why else would she wear a blue shirt?") couldn't use a gun, because of shaking hands or a fist, because of lack of strength. He solved it within five minutes. Albeit John was still angry, he hadn't refused to come with Sherlock. He still needed the adrenaline.

He told Lestrade who did it and left, with John behind him. He could see the press around their cab and the entire Scotland yard gathering outside the building.
Perfect!

Right in the middle between their cab and the building he stopped, causing John to bump against him and making everyone looking their way.
"Excuse me, I have an announcement to make" Sherlock began.
"Did you solve the case?" an eager member of the press asked.
"Yes, of course I have, but my announcement is bigger than some mental grandfather. I would like to say that I, Sherlock Holmes, am no longer a total sociopath!"

He heard someone laugh behind him
"I'm still partly a sociopath, Donovan," Sherlock snapped "just not completely anymore. I've found that there is a exception." He looked at John while he said the last part. He gave him a little smile, and John, smiled back. He knew Sherlock enough to know what he was doing and gave him permission, if not even encouraged him to continue.

"Only one exception and he's standing behind me. I declare that the world's only consulting detective has fallen hard for the world's only person who can stand up with the world's only consulting detective.
I've fallen in love with John Hamish Watson and I'm very, very lucky that he has fallen for me as well. We've been dating for six months and we are so happy, that we can't deny the world to see our happiness." He stressed the 'we', hoping John would understand. And apparently he did, since his face was by now only inches away. Sherlock said the words he wanted to say all along.
"John, it's not what I meant, it's not."
"I know Sherlock, I'm sorry that I didn't give you a chance to explain."
"I'm sorry too."

There wasn't more to say or do except for closing the little gap that was still between them. And that's exactly what they did.

The next morning they were on the front of every newspaper, kissing. It didn't matter, actually Sherlock hoped that the papers would use that picture from now on, instead of the one with the deerstalker's head. And when Lestrade called them in, there was a little smile around the edges of his mouth, a smirk around Donovan's and Anderson's. But only John and Sherlock laughed. Happy and in love.