A/N: This was inspired by a song from Next To Normal, so any dialogue that looks like song lyrics most likely is. Please enjoy! Disclaimer: I don't own any characters or song lyrics. This is all for fun!

John sat on the sofa in 221 B, blogging about the last case he and Sherlock had worked on. As he put the finishing touches on the post, he heard Sherlock coming up the stairs to the flat.

"Sherlock," he called out, closing his laptop and setting it to the side.

"Hello, John. Finished blogging?"

"Of course," he answered, stretching his arms in front of his body. He smiled inwardly as the tall detective sat beside him.

"John," Sherlock said, shifting uncomfortably, "our planet is poisoned…"

John looked at Sherlock quizzically and opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock hurriedly continued on, "…the oceans, the air. Around and beneath and above you."

"Yes, Sherlock, that's true, and um, I totally care. Tea?" John quickly got up and busied himself in the flat's kitchen, confused by what Sherlock was saying. The man never bothered to know anything about what was going on in the world. Sherlock stood and followed him.

"John, I'm trying to tell you-"

"What are you trying to tell me, Sherlock?"

"I love you."

"What?"

Silence fell in 221 B as John's mind reeled.

"I love you."

John flushed and tugged at the front of his jumper. He looked down at his feet and grinned. This man, the beautiful Sherlock Holmes, loved him.

"The world is at war, filled with death and disease. We dance on the edge of destruction. The globe's getting warmer by deadly degrees."

"And this is one fucked up seduction. But seeing as it's you, Sherlock…"

"This planet is pretty much broken beyond all repair. But one thing is working, though, if you're standing there."

"…the hell?"

"Perfect. For you. I can be perfect for you. I might be a loner, and rude, and obsessed with murder, it's true. But I might be perfect. I'll make myself perfect. Perfect. For. You. You'll square all the corners, I'll straighten the curves."

"You've got some nerve, Sherlock."

"But even if everything else turns to dirt, we'll be the one thing in this world that won't hurt. I can't fix what's," Sherlock swallowed hard against the word, "fucked up. But one thing I know I can do, John. I can be perfect for you."

"And I can be perfect for you."

"Perfect," Sherlock murmured as he bent his head down, staring into the doctor's eyes. Slowly, he closed the gap until their lips touched. The kiss was soft, and John found his hands entangled in Sherlock's curly hair, pulling him closer. When the detective pulled away, he wore a cocky smile on his face, and the doctor smiled.

Again, John asked, "Tea?" and turned to the stove to put the kettle on. Sherlock nodded behind him and left the kitchen, trailing his hand along John's back as he meandered to the sitting room.

Left to his thoughts, John hummed to himself as he prepared the tea. He wanted to shout for joy; Sherlock Holmes was in love with him, John Watson, the doctor with nerves of steel. John brought Sherlock his mug of tea and sat next to him on the sofa.

"John," Sherlock began, "I, um, if that was too-"

"Sherlock, shut up." With a look of surprise on his face, Holmes closed his mouth and stared at the doctor, "don't be sorry."

"Why?"

"Because even though it was surprising, I obviously feel the same way."

"I know," the detective answered; John rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. Sherlock smirked, and not able to help himself, leaned over and kissed the doctor. John's eyes fluttered closed, and again, his hands found the detective's dark curls. Sherlock had one hand on John's face, rubbing his thumb up and down his cheekbone, and another just above his knee, resting. When John finally pulled himself away from Sherlock, both men smiled at each other and enjoyed their tea in each other's company.