Author's Notes: I do not own any of these characters. Any lines you recognise are quotes from Sherlock, 'A Study in Pink'. Please review if you can-enjoy!
It had all started that first night at dinner. John had felt like a complete fool of course when Sherlock mistook his curiosity for romantic interest. Ironic that his denial of his interest had actually sparked it.
"I'm just saying it's all fine".
"Good. Thank you". There it was, just the tiniest flash of disappointment in Sherlock's eyes. So fleeting that John was almost sure he had imagined it. But the thought of Sherlock wanting him to be interested, however tiny that thought was, planted itself firmly in the back of John Watson's mind and continued to grow.
It was not long before John's imagination was uncontrollable, and with it, his feelings for Sherlock Holmes. Little moments had John's mind racing wildly ahead to potential scenarios, some of which even shocked himself.
They were in the back of a cab, Sherlock was making his deductions, speaking at one hundred miles an hour. John's eyes kept flickering to his lips of their own accord when suddenly Sherlock stopped talking. His lips parted in realisation.
"John, you're staring at me. You're staring at my lips." He said, edging closer. "Do you like my lips John?" He whispered right into John's ear, his voice becoming husky and then...
It was at this point that Sherlock had actually stopped and asked John to listen instead of daydreaming about god knows what. It had felt so real. Stupid John.
They were in the lab, Sherlock trying to solve a case.
"Pass me my phone"
"Where is it?"
"Jacket"
His jacket? He was wearing his jacket! What annoyed John most is that he actually complied with Sherlock's demands no matter how infuriating they were.
His annoyance disappeared as soon as he put his hand in Sherlock's pocket. Sherlock's head whipped round in shock, they were so close they were basically nose to nose.
He practically breathed the words, "John, why has the rate of your breathing increased? Why are your cheeks flushed? Is it because you're touching me, John? Would you like to keep touching me?...
"Careful!" Sherlock snapped...clearly John's imagination had made his handling of Sherlock's phone quite rough. These fantasies were becoming much too vivid, it was getting dangerous. Stupid John.
Looking back on those moments now amongst so many others, John knew he was being ridiculous. These weeks of daydreaming had been a complete waste of time and he had to stop. Yes, this had to stop, John decided as he went to make tea.
"Tea, Sherlock?"
"Sherlock?" John turned around to see why he hadn't replied and was stunned to see Sherlock stood right in front of him-his face leaning down towards him-almost pinning him against the kitchen counter.
"Did you think I hadn't noticed, John? I know what you've been thinking about these past few weeks, every time you've stopped listening to me. I see everything John."
For a brief moment, John made a very convincing fish, as all he could do was open and close his mouth in shock.
Sherlock's mouth turned up at the corners, a glint in his eye. Suprising John even more, he leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Do you want me, John?".
His husky tone and close proximity became too much.
"Oh God Yes!" John practically shouted before grabbing Sherlock's face in both his hands and kissing him full on the mouth.
It was about five seconds before John realised that Sherlock had still not responded and had completely tensed up. It was another five seconds before John realised why.
Sherlock hadn't actually said "Do you want me". It had all been in his head again. Now John reflected on it, Sherlock had actually said, "We're out of milk" whilst on his way to the fridge to check on an experiment.
Mortified, John gently pulled away, stepped back, and proceeded to turn the deepest shade of red imaginable.
"Sherlock...I am so sor.."
"Save your fantasies for the bedroom, John". Sherlock's quick retort cut him off.
John could not help but glance up in horror, the other man's tone and expression were unclear but his words swept over John in waves of humiliation. Of course Sherlock didn't feel the same, and now everything was ruined. Stupid, STUPID John.
John mumbled something incoherent and made to walk away but was instead shocked to be grabbed by the hand and dragged across the room and out the door.
They were at the top of the stairs before John caught his breath and at his bedroom door before he managed to get out, "Sherlock, what are you doing? What's going on?"
Sherlock proceeded to push John through the bedroom door and down onto the bed. "Like I said John" he whispered, closing the bedroom door and spinning around to prowl towards him, "Save your fantasies, for the bedroom".