Sherlock sat across from John, he could tell John had something on his mind, John not talking but looking when he thought Sherlock was not. It was very easy to tell that for some reason John needed to tell Sherlock something but couldn't. "Bloody hell, just spit it out already!" Sherlock spoke with a hint of anger in his voice.
"Um," John started looking saddened. Sherlock wondered what on earth could make John so depressed. Was it a girl? No, even John wasn't that stupid. "I have cancer." Sherlock sat back, stunned.
"Please, dear lord, tell me this is like the leg thing, that this isn't real... please." The last word came out as a whisper.
"I'm sorry Sherlock." John looked down at his tea cup hoping that he could disappear and not have to face a sad Sherlock. For some reason he felt like he was disappointing Sherlock and that maybe when taking care of him was too much Sherlock would ask him to move out, Sherlock after all was a busy man, being the only consulting detective in the word.
"What...what type of cancer is it?"
"Lung" was all John could manage to get out. Sherlock felt as though he had been punched in the heart, like he was winded and couldn't breathe.
"Oh," Sherlock gave John a small smile "my own little Hazel Grace." John smiled immediately getting the reference to one of his favourite books.
"Guess I am" As John said this he heard Sherlock mumble something. "What was that?"
"I...i won't let you die John, even if i have to find a cure for cancer myself."
"I...Sherlock?"
"Yes, John?"
"I think i maybe in love with you"
"I'm in love with myself too, nothing to worry about," Sherlock said giving a small smirk and a hint of a laugh "I think i love you too John"