Hi everyone, I'm BACK FROM HAITUS! YAY! With another Johnlock oneshot... because my other two (check out my profile to read) seemed reasonably popular. Enjoy!

"I'm gay, Sherlock, I lied."

"OK."

"OK? Is that it?"

"What exactly were you expecting? A confession of my own sexuality?"

"Maybe… yeah."

"Why? I can't be expected to just copy whatever you do."

"I suppose."

"Though if we have to do this now, I did tell you when we first met girlfriends aren't my area."

"Yeah, and…"

"I didn't exactly say boyfriends weren't my area either."

"So they are."

"In a manner of speaking."

"Meaning?"

"I haven't been in a relationship for quite a number of years."

"Neither have I."

"Don't lie. I know about Sarah, and the other one, and…"

"Okay, I get the point. I meant relationship with a man."

"Ah."

"Sherlock, why do you think I suddenly upped and told you I was gay?"

"I don't know. A bout of sentimentality. Anniversary of coming out to your parents. I don't know, John." He started to get edgy, hands clenching, as John looked up at him with those wide blue eyes. "No, that's not it."

"Alright, then, don't keep me in suspense."

"No, you have to work it out. You're good at that."

"Why? Why can't you just tell me?"

"Not this time. You have to work it out. Please, Sherlock, you have to work it out."

"Why? What's so important?"

"Please, Sherlock, work it out."

"Um…" Sherlock's eyes darted over John. Erratic breathing, dilated pupils, all the usual suspects. "OK, I've worked it out."

"Oh… really?" John asked worriedly.

"Oh what is wrong with you today? You're desperate for me to make this one- painfully simple- deduction and then when I do you don't even want me to say it."

"No, no, I do. Honestly."

"You have romantic feelings for a male person. Obviously."

"Oh."

"What do you mean, 'oh'? I got it right, didn't I?"

"Um, yes, but I thought you might be able to… specify… which male."

"And how exactly am I supposed to know that?"

"It's pretty obvious."

"No it isn't! I've never seen you in contact with any potential partners."

"Yeah, you have."

"I've seen you with him."

"Yes."

"Oh, Christ, it isn't Graham, is it?"

"Graham?"

"You know. Lestrade."

"It's Greg. And no, of course it isn't."

"Well, how was I supposed to know? And I don't, John, I don't know who else it could be. So either tell me or go away and stop bothering me." Sherlock sighed. He had always feared this would happen. It was bad enough with the girlfriends, but this! This was just painful. Why couldn't John see? Why couldn't he make this one, tiny but hugely significant leap to see that the one man who loved him was standing right here?

"Okay, I'll leave." John turned, dejected, and shuffled off towards the stairs. Three steps up he paused and turned round. "It was you, you know," he whispered, turning and continuing up the staircase. "But I would never have the courage to tell you myself."

"John!" Sherlock shouted up the stairs a while later. "John! I need you!"

"What for?" John shambled down rubbing his eyes. As always, his heart gave a little jump at the sight of Sherlock lying on the sofa clad in nothing but pyjamas and his blue silk dressing gown. "It's no good, John, I've been trying to work it out all night and drawing a blank. I have to know."

"Know what?"

"Who 'he' is."

"I said. You have to work it out, I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't say it! Look, if you… have you ever actually been in love?"

"In love?"

"YES!"

"Yes." Sherlock stated calmly.

"Well then! Would you be able to tell them?" Sherlock's words caught in his throat. "Tell them?" he questioned, his breathing becoming heavy. "But I'm not… I'm not them." John's eyes widened as he realised what he'd said. Then, steeling himself, he took a big breath. "Yes you are."

"No, sorry for the miscommunication. I was referring to the recipient of your romantic feelings."

"Yeah, so was I."

"Don't understand."

"Oh, there isn't too much to understand! I'm bloody in love with you and I could never bring myself to tell you until now because you bloody forced me to make a bloody mistake!" Sherlock had frozen, eyes wide open, fists clenched on the table. The only movement in his entire body that John could see was a fast pulse in his neck.

"Sherlock?" tried John tentatively. "Sherlock. This is getting scary now. Sherlock!"

"Me," Sherlock murmured, almost incomprehensibly. "Me… of course!" His face suddenly split into a huge smile and he threw up his hands. "OF COURSE! It all makes sense now!"

"Um… does it?"

"Yes! Everything! It's all just slotted into place and all you had to say was…"

"I love you."

"Yep."

"No, really."

"Mm?"

"I really do love you." Sherlock's forehead creased and he turned to look John full in the face.

"You do?"

"Yes. I always have."

"Always?"

"Always."

"Oh, John, I…"

"Of course it's always been you. Who else could it ever be?"

"I see that now. As I say… it all suddenly makes sense."

"What?"

"All the looks, the gazes, all of that… John, why are you sad?" John was turning away.

"Oh, come on, Sherlock, it's not rocket science! I just told you I love you and you clearly don't reciprocate."

"What? Of course I reciprocate. You're my blogger." And with that, he cupped his hand behind John's head and brought their lips together. John, startled at first, relaxed and started deepening the kiss, cupping Sherlock's face with his hands. They stayed in that position for some time.

At least, until Mrs Hudson came up and spied them through the open door. She gave out a loud squeal of excitement. "Ooh! My boys! I knew it!" They jumped apart, but not quickly enough to prevent her fangirling in the hallway.

"I don't know why you're making such a fuss now, Mrs Hudson," Sherlock reprimanded. "You've known for far longer than either of us."

FIN

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