John looked over at the figure clad in black lounging on the sofa. Even though he had been living with Sherlock for well over a year now, he couldn't help but smile when he looked at him. The slight upturn of his lips showed that he was close to solving the case. He had s light stain on his sleeve from where he had spilled coffee earlier that morning. His hair was slightly tousled, proof that his hand had been running through it while he had been thinking. His eyes were closed and he had a slight crease in his forehead, the one he always gets when he thinks about a case. Even though this was a normal occurrence, John was always struck by the astounding beauty of Sherlock, and the fact that he seemed to have no idea. Sherlock's eyes flashed open and that perfectly adorable smile crosses his face.

"John!" He cried out, and John couldn't help the warm feeling that spread through him when Sherlock said his name.

"What is it?" John asked. He had to fight back the urge to just shout out his feelings, but he knew that Sherlock didn't feel the same way, and there was no point in ruining their friendship.

"What did you say about the signature?" Sherlock asked, John had no idea why that was important, but he had learned not to question Sherlock.

"I said it was exactly the same a the previous one." John repeated slowly, still having no idea what that meant.

"Exactly! That was his mistake!"

"Who's?"

"The killers John! The killer!" Sherlock looked extremely excited.

"I still don't…" John started to say.

"Who writes their signature exactly the same every time? Only people who want it to look the same, so no one would suspect it wasn't them. His eyes were lit up and it seemed as if he were practically glowing with excitement.

"So if we find who faked the signature, we find who killed him?" John clarified.

"Precisely!"

"But how do we do that?"

"Don't you see, we already have! There was a slight smudge on the name, but I didn't pay much attention to it because it was the right name! But the smudge was made from someone who is left handed, and there are only two people we saw who are left handed!"

"The daughter and…"

"The neighbor!" Sherlock shouted. "When I was at her house I saw some pictures from last week. She was wearing clothes to make herself appear younger, not that it really worked. She also had a pen from the Hotel de Blanche, the place where Mr. Young apparently had his business meeting. She is now wearing normal clothes, because she has no one left to impress."

"So they were a=having an affair?"

"Yes."

"And he was going to end it."

"Yes."

"So she killed him."

"Precisely."

"But how do we know it's not the daughter?" John asked.

"How boring your life must be with that brain of yours." Sherlock sighed, but was there a tone of fondness in his voice? "She's completely naive, she still believes in such stupid ideas as love at first sight, and a knight in shining armor. She couldn't harm a fly if she wanted to."

"Once again John was blown away by Sherlock's amazing intelligence. Sherlock's cheeks were slightly flushed from his rant and his breathing had become slightly heavier. John swallowed audibly; he was using all of his self-control not to jump him.

"What? You aren't going to tell me how amazing I am, John? I have to say I quite enjoy it when you do that." And he wasn't lying. He was, if he were honest with himself, a little disappointed tat John hadn't said anything yet.

'Oh to hell with it!" John thought to himself. He walked over to Sherlock and brushed his lips against his. Sherlock's eyes opened wide with shock.

"You are amazing." John said and kissed Sherlock. "Brilliant" He kissed him again; "Genius". By the third kiss Sherlock kissed back. John continued to say sweet nothings to Sherlock, and Sherlock to John. But neither were really paying much attention to what was being said. They were lost in each other's warmth, and the soft feeling of lips on lips. John's hands somehow found their way around Sherlock's neck, and Sherlock's around John's waist.

John wasn't sure how long it lasted, but he knew it wasn't long enough. As soon as Sherlock pulled away John got self-conscious. What I Sherlock had only kissed back because he felt he should? Was it a mistake? What had he been telling John? He hadn't been paying attention. Was he telling him to get off? To stop?

As if reading his mind Sherlock leaned in and kissed John's cheek. "Stop worrying, I never do anything I don't want to."

John's worried expression fell from his face and was replaced with a smile. A rather cute smile, Sherlock thought to himself.

"Come on, we should tell Lestrade we solved the case." Sherlock held out his hand for John to take. John's smile grew even bigger than before, if that was even possible. Sherlock had held out his hand for John, but more importantly, he had said 'we solved the case'. John took Sherlock's offered hand, and they walked out of the flat together.