Author Notes: Sorry for making you wait so long for this chapter, but university kept me busy. Thankfully, I will finally be able to take a break, after next Monday.^^

Thank you all for your support and encouragement and I'm sorry that I didn't manage to reply to all your lovely comments individually. I just wanted you to know how happy they all made me. =D

There will be another chapter after this one and hopefully, it won't take me too long to update this time. And now: Enjoy! =)

Turbulences

"I don't know what to do, Mycroft." Sherlock glared at the golden leaves of the trees as he followed the small path to the pond behind the house. It irked him that he felt the need to ask his brother for advice - Mycroft would be horrible smug for years - but he was completely out of his depth. John's declaration of love had left him spinning through open space - was that physically possible? - and he was at a loss of how to act. Under different circumstances - if Sherlock was what John thought him to be - it would have been an easy decision to make. John loved him and Sherlock loved him and they could have ended the day with snogging and/or sex on the couch - or any other suitable piece of furniture in the flat.

Sherlock took a shaking breath and pushed that thought away with an impatient gesture. The circumstances weren't different. He was who he was and there was no way to change that. He had already changed - or rather adapted - everything necessary, in order to become the man, he was now. And Sherlock was content with who he was - had been content for almost a decade by now - but he didn't know if John would feel the same way. His friend had assured him that he would even want to enter a romantic relationship with him, if Sherlock wasn't interested in sex at all. Which was... nice, but not the point, since this wasn't a question of sexuality, but of gender identity. Or maybe, it was a question of sexuality, but not for Sherlock, but for John. Who was there to guarantee him that John would still love him, after he had learned that Sherlock was transgender? He might not end their friendship over it - God, Sherlock hoped not - but that wasn't to say that John would keep on looking at Sherlock the same way. As far as Sherlock knew, John had never dated a transgender person and he wasn't sure if that was by choice or by chance. Would John still be open to the idea of a relationship with Sherlock or would he turn away from Sherlock in disgust? Would their friendship survive, but not their love and Sherlock would have to watch John with someone else in the near future, just because of a stupid mistake of mother nature?

"You should tell him." Sherlock's head snapped up to look at his brother, who appeared to admire the wide field behind the house, but was actually watching Sherlock from the corner of his eyes. "It will make everything much easier once John knows."

Sherlock snorted at that and didn't even bother to ask Mycroft how he knew about the topic of their conversation, as Sherlock hadn't mentioned anything prior to his admission that he was at his wits end. He might have deduced it from the CCTV footage of John and Sherlock during the last week or their behavior this afternoon might have given it away. Sherlock didn't care about Mycroft's tricks, he only cared about his next steps in regards to John.

"It's easy for you to say that, but you don't know how it is." And Mycroft didn't, his brother understood Sherlock like no one else did, but he couldn't relate to the feeling of looking in the mirror and seeing an unfitting version of his body. A version that was miles away from the picture Sherlock had of himself, that it hurt just to look at it. Thankfully, he hadn't felt like this in years, but he would never forget the anger and helplessness he had felt during his puberty. It was engraved in his brain and Mycroft couldn't...

"Don't forget that I was the one, who collected you from the flat you shared with Victor Trevor, after you had figured out that he only wanted to be together with you, because it allowed him to pretend that he wasn't gay. Utterly nonsense of course, seeing that you are a man, but I still remember you considering phalloplasty as a possibility afterwards, although you had never been interested in that kind of surgery before. I watched you destroying your body with cocaine for two years, after Trevor had fueled your body dysphoria. So don't tell me that I'm completely ignorant of the topic, brother mine." Sherlock almost flinched at the glare Mycroft directed at him. "I have watched you suffer for years Sherlock and I only want you to be happy. And yes, I think that it will make you happy in the long run, if you take John in your confidence."

Sherlock sighed and stared at the quiet pond. It was getting cold, the fish were less active than usual. Just like he was less active than he should be. One week to make a simple decision and still not coming to a conclusion at all, was pathetic. It wasn't the same as taking two years - and lots of cocaine - to decide that he didn't want any kind of bottom surgery and that all the Victor Trevors of this world could just go to hell. No, it wasn't even possible to compare the two situations to each other, as they only had Sherlock's gender identity in common. Hell, it wasn't even possible to compare the situation with John to any other time, Sherlock had come out to a potential lover. After all, most of his lovers had been brief affairs and Sherlock hadn't cared much if they surprised him positively - like Sebastian, who hadn't bated an eyelid before taking him to bed, never to speak of it again - or if they turned him down. And Sherlock could have lived with both outcomes, if John wasn't... if he wasn't his best friend and Sherlock wasn't in love with him. Sherlock didn't know if he could survive a rejection from John, based merely on the fact that Sherlock was transgender.

"He will grow to resent you," Mycroft's dispassionate voice interrupted his thoughts and Sherlock wondered why he had believed it a good idea to talk with his annoying brother. "John loves you and he will get tired of waiting for an answer from you. Either you reject him and hope that your friendship survives it, without a chance of ever experiencing a deeper connection to Doctor Watson or you tell him. The chances that your friendship will survive this course of action are much higher - about 91% - and there would even be hope for a development of your relationship."

"And yet, it's very likely that he won't be sexually interested in me anymore, because my genitalia doesn't match my gender."

"But you don't know that and maybe John will surprise you, but you can find that out yourself, as he is just coming our way." Sherlock spun around and froze on the spot as he watched John hurrying in their direction with a determined expression on his face.

"I'll leave you to it then. Good luck, brother mine!" For a split second, Sherlock was about to grab Mycroft's umbrella to keep his brother from leaving, before he thought better of it. He wasn't a small child anymore and he didn't need Mycroft's help, when it came to John. His advice, yes, but Mycroft's meddling wouldn't solve the situation with John and it had to be solved, one way or another.

Sherlock straightened his back, when John came to stand in front of him and looked up at him with a strange expression on his face. An expression, Sherlock couldn't read, but he suspected that John was here to demand he make a decision and Sherlock was ready to head Mycroft's advice. Only... John managed to surprise him once again... or rather, shock him. "So, your birth name was Aurelia?"

The question sounded innocent enough, but it knocked the breath out of Sherlock and he gasped for air. "How...?" No need to deny the truth, when it was obvious that John was aware of this part of his past, although Sherlock couldn't fathom where his friend had gotten that information from.

"Your parents showed their photo albums to me and well..." John shrugged and averted his gaze. "I just wanted to know if it's true." He was still speaking to the dried leaves at his feet and Sherlock hated that his friend wouldn't meet his eyes. It made it harder to deduce John's feelings and it also left him wondering why John wouldn't look at him. Was he embarrassed that he had learned of his secret, without Sherlock's permission - he would have a word with his parents later - or was he so disgusted by him that... No, stop! No theorizing without the necessary data, that was his rule and he would stick to it.

"If you are inquiring if I'm transgender, then yes, it's true." John's eyes snapped up to his and Sherlock tried to read from his expression how he felt about it, but so many emotions flickered over his face that it was impossible to catch them all. Surprise was certainly one of them, but Sherlock couldn't be sure what else was hidden away in the depths of John's eyes. Shock wasn't out of the question, as it was obviously hard for his friend to find the words to express his feelings as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, before sounds were finally falling from his lips. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sherlock bristled at the question and the reproachful tone as the hairs on his neck rose. "I'm not obligated to tell everyone I meet that I'm transgender. It's my business and I alone decide if and when I tell someone about it."

"But I'm your friend and it would have spared us a lot of trouble if you had just..."

"Oh a lot of trouble," Sherlock sneered John's words, although the lump in his throat made it hard to get enough air for speech. "By that you mean that you wouldn't have fallen in love with me if you had known what I was. Or do you mean that you wouldn't have needed to go through a sexuality crisis, because you don't see me as a real man and therefore you could just put me on level with your numerous girlfriends?!"

John flinched at the words and Sherlock's heart sank farther. So, that was how John saw him or would see him from now on. He couldn't wrap his head around Sherlock's transition and although he might made an effort, in order to safe their friendship, it wouldn't be the same anymore. John would pretend that everything was fine - because that was what he always did - but he wouldn't be able to maintain that lie and sooner or later, it would drive them apart. One of them - probably John - would leave Baker Street and Sherlock would have lost his best friend, just because of who he was.

Sherlock clenched his hands at his side. His fingernails dug into his palm. The pain was a relief. It gave him something to focus on. Something besides the pressure on his chest or the burning moisture in his eyes, while he glared at John and waited. Waited for his friend to say something in his defense, to tell Sherlock that it was a misunderstanding, but John merely gaped at him. No denials forthcoming and Sherlock... admitted defeat. "Tell Mummy and Dad that they don't have to wait with dinner." With that he turned around and marched in the direction of the field. He had already climbed above the fence, when John called out to him.

"Sherlock!"

At least, he still used his correct name, Sherlock mused without humor, but he didn't turn around as he increased his pace, until he was running across the harvested field, without a thought as how he had to look like to John... if he was still watching him. He just wanted to get away from everything. From John. From his parents. From his brother. From his own feelings.

Sherlock ran, until every breath felt like a piercing needle to his lungs and he just collapsed against the trunk of a tree at the edge of the forest. His vision blurred, when he glanced across the field and to his parent's house, which was a tiny point in the distance.

"Stupid wind," Sherlock cursed as he wiped the moisture from his cheeks, but gave up the pretense, when new tears welled up in his eyes. Screw it, he had every right to cry, after his best friend had stabbed him in the back, because his parents had forced him to come out to John.

A sob hitched in his throat and Sherlock did nothing to cover up the sound. No one would hear him here. No one would come looking here for him... expect for Mycroft, but even his brother wouldn't make it to the forest in hours. He had always given Sherlock the time to collect himself and Sherlock doubted that Mycroft would change his policy today.

A hollow laugh was torn from his lips, which ended in a strangled cry and Sherlock slung his arms around his legs as he allowed the sorrow and disappointment to be washed away by his tears.

OOO

"Sherlock!"

Fuck, John punched the air in front of him, when his friend didn't turn around but fled - there was no other word for it - across the field. He had screwed up badly, John knew that, even without Mycroft's dark presence drawing closer to him, until the elder Holmes' brother was glaring down at John.

"Care to explain what just happened, Doctor Watson?" If John was less brave, he would have cowered at the icy tone of Mycroft's voice as his grey eyes tore into his. But seeing that he had never backed down from a challenge before, John merely clasped his hands behind his back and returned Mycroft's gaze. "I don't think that it's of any concern for you."

"Oh, but it is, Doctor Watson." Mycroft bared his teeth in a terrifying imitation of a smile. "You see, no matter how much Sherlock and I disagree on certain matters, he still is my little brother and I won't stand by and watch you hurting him."

John's shoulders sagged. For once, Mycroft had the high moral ground in a conversation and John didn't even feel the need to argue with him. He had every right to be angry with John, although...

"I don't mean to hurt Sherlock." It sounded petulant, even to his own ears and it did nothing to melt the ice in Mycroft's eyes. "You just did, Doctor Watson or do you think my brother makes a habit of running away from a confrontation?!"

The question didn't need answering. Sherlock would never ran away from a confrontation. Hell, he loved confrontations, it was one of his hobbies to provoke Sally and Anderson, just to exchange insults with them. No, Sherlock only fled from situations, which were too emotional for his liking or had the potential to hurt him, if not both. And John had pushed him in such a situation, just because he hadn't taken a damned second to think. Instead of allowing the new knowledge to settle and order his feelings, John had rushed to Sherlock and confronted him with the facts and how he had done it!

"So, your birth name was Aurelia?"

Harry would have his head for that, if she ever learned of John's indiscretion. His sister had a lot of transgender friends - and he believed she had even dated a few trans women before Clara - and she had made sure that John knew what questions weren't allowed. Birth names were an absolute no go and what had John done, he had used Sherlock's birth name as an entrance for their conversation. No wonder that Sherlock had been wary of John's motives afterwards and had felt the need to get defensive. Christ, he was such an idiot!

"What did you say to Sherlock that he felt the need to get away from you?" Mycroft arched an eyebrow at John. "Did you imply that he wasn't a real man or did you make your feelings in this regard depend on the state of his genitalia?"

"No," John pressed out, only because he feared that Mycroft would drown him in the pond, if he didn't answer his questions. "I didn't say anything."

"Please, don't try to fool me, Doctor Watson. Smarter men have tried and failed at that. You must have said something to rile up my brother..."

"No, I didn't say anything, at least," John added, when Mycroft's expression darkened. "I didn't insult him. I went about it the wrong way, but Sherlock... he accused me of thinking... things and I didn't know what to say and..."

"My brother took your silence as a confession," Mycroft finished his sentence and sadness flickered in his eyes for a second, before his expression blanked once more. At least, it didn't appear like John was in mortal danger anymore. "Tell me, John, has your view of Sherlock changed in any significant way, since you learned that he is transgender?"

He didn't even have to think about the question, before he shook his head and a tiny smile stretched the corners of Mycroft's lips. "In this case, I'll send him to you, when he comes back, but," Cold eyes glared warningly at John as their owner turned back towards the house. "If you hurt him, I'll make sure that you never existed, Doctor Watson." John merely inclined his head at the threat, but didn't bother with an answer as he followed Mycroft back to the house. If he hurt Sherlock - again - then he didn't see much appeal in existing anymore. John would deserve every terrible punishment, Mycroft deemed appropriate for him, if John wasn't able to make up with his friend. He glanced back over the wide fields and sent a prayer heavenwards that Sherlock would be back soon, so that John could apologize for his thoughtless words.

OOO

John sighed as he closed the door of the bedroom behind himself. Dinner had been an awkward affair. Mycroft had been polite, but cold - colder than usual - and it hadn't only been directed at John, but at his parents as well. No matter, that Violet and Scott had assumed that John already knew that Sherlock was transgender, their oldest son obviously held it against them that they had spilled his brother's secret. Understandable, as John had been furious with his father as well, after he had told his mates that Harry was a lesbian and they had made all kind of rude comments, when they had seen her the next time... until Harry had broken the nose of one of them. John grinned at the memory, but he sobered a second later and stared at the carpet. It had complicated, chemical formulas weaved in it and John wondered where you could get such a unique piece of art. Maybe, Violet had made it herself for Sherlock, as she appeared the kind of mother who would do everything in her power to make her children happy.

For a second, John considered sitting down on the bed - King's sized - but then he decided against it and sat down on the carpet instead to lean back against the bedframe. After all, the bed was Sherlock's and John didn't feel like he had any right to use it. Not until, Sherlock had forgiven John for how he had acted today and if that wasn't possible then... John would just sleep on the couch downstairs. Violet had put John in Sherlock's old bedroom, together with her son, because she had assumed that they were a couple and John had declined her offer to arrange the guestroom for him, after she had learned otherwise. John didn't want to admit defeat, before he had even started fighting for Sherlock and if he had to pay a price for his determination, in the form of a sore neck, then so be it. Because John would fight for Sherlock, not only for their friendship - which went without saying - but also for the right to love the mad genius.

John nodded at the skeptical looking teddy - which wore an eye patch and a captain's hat - on the bed, but didn't allow himself to stroke his fur. It was Sherlock's teddy and if John ever earned the right to touch him was written in the stars. John was only certain of one thing, his feelings for Sherlock hadn't changed since he had learned that his friend was transgender.

John had taken the time - while the rest of the house had been wrapped in awkward silence - to analyze his own feelings and the conclusion had been clear. It wasn't up for discussion to end their friendship. Sherlock would always be his friend - even if he decided that John wasn't his anymore - and the fact that Sherlock had been born as Aurelia didn't change anything as far as John was concerned. He was a man, no matter what his birth certificate had to say about it. And that led John to the next question, he had forced himself to answer honestly: Did he still want to have a sexual and romantic relationship with Sherlock? Romanticism would have dictated to him not to ask this question - as political correctness would have - but John didn't want to lie to himself and - by extension - Sherlock. It would only hurt them both in the end, if John came to the conclusion that it wasn't possible for him to be with Sherlock sexually and the last thing John wanted to do, was to hurt Sherlock... again.

Still, it had come as a relief to John, when he had realised that his first impulse about his own feelings had been right, he still wanted to be with Sherlock in every possible way. No matter what kind of surgeries Sherlock had or hadn't undergone, John wanted to make love to him. He wanted to kiss and touch every part of Sherlock's body and learn what made him sigh in delight or moan with passion. He wanted to watch him fall asleep in his arms and kiss him awake in the morning and... in short, John only cared about the details of Sherlock's body in the way, that he wanted to explore and memorize them all.

The teddy didn't look so disapproving anymore, when John glanced his way again and he contemplated petting his head, when steps sounded on the floor. They were too light to be Mycroft's, too energetic to be Scotts and Violet had gone to bed hours ago, therefore... John scrambled to his feet, just when the door was pushed open.

OOO

Sherlock stepped into the room and... stopped. He hadn't expected John in here, which was stupid, considering that his mother had been of the opinion that they were a couple and therefore, she would have put them in a room together. Still, Sherlock would have thought that the misunderstanding was cleared by now. Certainly, his mother would have offered John to sleep in the guestroom and that meant... that John was here to talk.

Sherlock gulped and fought the urge to flee, as he closed the door behind him and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He wouldn't run away from his friend - no matter if John still considered him as such - and if it all ended now, then this was for the better. At least, it would spare Sherlock hours of imaging all kinds of painful conversations with John. They could just get it over with and then... Sherlock's mind shied away from the question what would happen, once John had said his part. He didn't want to imagine a life without his friend, but he also didn't want to see how John's behavior would change around him, now that he knew the truth.

Sherlock sighed and decided to face the bitter reality, once it had arrived. Until then, he could allow himself to hope that not everything would turn out as hopeless as it now appeared to be.

"What do you want?" Sherlock didn't bother to hide his exhaustion as he met John's gaze. Even someone as unobservant as his friend would notice his red rimmed eyes and the dirt that stuck to the front of his trousers, from when he had kneeled on the ground and cried helpless tears into the mud, until only numbness had been left. Sherlock couldn't even say if the cold or his own devastation were to fault that he had only barely managed to drag himself back home. Every step towards his parent's home more exhausting than the last one, until he had finally stumbled over the threshold of their house.

"I want to... apologize." John's gaze flickered over his body and Sherlock noted the exact moment, when John noticed the pathetic state, Sherlock was in, as his eyes narrowed at him. Though, he didn't remark on it, but took a deep breath instead and carried on. "I handled the situation badly, I should have... Actually, I don't know how I should have brought it up, but I know that... it was wrong of me to... use your birth name as a start for the conversation. I shouldn't..."

"Did Mycroft set you up to it?" Sherlock interrupted John's stuttered apology, before his traitorous heart could nurse the seed of hope, his friend's words had planted. "I know that he wants to protect me, but you don't have to... If you don't mean what you say, then it would be better if you didn't say anything at all."

John gaped at him and then sighed. "I guess it's natural that you think that, but... Mycroft has never been able to make me do anything. I'm here, because I want to apologize and besides," The shadow of a smile flickered over John's face. "Do you truly believe that I would still be here, if Mycroft thought I didn't mean what I just said?"

Sherlock cocked his head to the side as he considered this point. He was certain that Mycroft had talked with John - probably threatened him - after Sherlock had left - fled. Still, his brother wouldn't have allowed John near Sherlock, if he had believed that John was truly transphobic. More than one of the men, which had rejected Sherlock, based on the fact that he was transgender, had found themselves thrown out of university or without a job afterwards. No, if John was still here, then there was reason to hope and Sherlock should at least give John the chance to explain himself.

"No, Mycroft would have drowned you in the pond," Sherlock replied to John's earlier question.

"That's what I feared." Mirth sparkled in John's eyes and for a split second, Sherlock forgot what they were talking about as an answering grin tucked at his lips, before the reality of the situation crashed down on him, once more and his expression froze. "If you know that it was wrong, why did you confront me in such a way?"

"Because your mother had just told me - although by accident - that you are transgender. I was surprised and I needed to talk with you about it and... I didn't take the time to think twice about my actions. I'm sorry that I hurt you." John hunched his shoulders and met Sherlock's eyes. "It was also terrible of me to... hold it against you that you didn't tell me, sooner. I had no right to... even imply that."

Sherlock nodded slowly, but otherwise remained silent. His mind was busy with checking and comparing John's body language and intonation to past situations. It didn't appear like John was lying - he was a terrible liar - and Sherlock's heart stuttered in tentative hope. If John was remorseful for his behavior, then it was possible that not everything was lost between them. Maybe, their friendship was still salvageable.

"You don't mind, then?" Sherlock gestured to himself and flinched inwardly at how desperate his voice sounded. It was never a good idea to give his own weaknesses away. Sherlock had learned that the hard way, starting with the children at school and continuing until this very day. But John didn't attack Sherlock, instead he sent him a tired, but honest smile. "Of course, I don't mind. God, Sherlock, I... I can't apologize often enough that I made you feel like I did, but it's really no problem. You're still you. Brilliant, mad and - sometimes - an utterly git and I... I hope we can still be friends."

Friends!

The word brought relief and disappointment, in equal parts, to Sherlock. Relief, because the day's events hadn't destroyed what had always been theirs and John obviously valued their friendship very highly. And Disappointment, because... Well, some part of Sherlock had started to hope - after his friend's apology - that they could be more. That there was still a chance for John and him to act on their mutual feelings and become... boyfriends. Obviously though, there wasn't and Sherlock would have to accept it. No matter how bitter it made him feel and how much he would loathe every future lover of John, Sherlock would come to live with John's decision and maybe - given some time - he would even get over his love for John.

"Friends... that's fine." Sherlock pressed out and lowered his eyes to the floor as not to give his real feelings away to John. It would take some time to hide his feelings from his friend and pretend that everything was fine between them. And it was... it was! John had apologized to him. He didn't behave differently towards him - as far as Sherlock could judge - and they were still friends. Therefore, the outcome was much better than he had expected, when he had come home. Why then did he feel like an iron clad was closing around his chest and suffocating him slowly? It wasn't the first time that someone had turned him down, because he was transgender. It wasn't even the first time that Sherlock had really liked that person. It just was... the first time that someone had confessed their love to him beforehand. Sherlock inhaled slowly and ignored the burning feeling in his chest, as he tried to get himself back under control. He wouldn't gain anything from becoming emotional now. If anything, it would only make John uncomfortable and Sherlock didn't want him to reconsider their status as friends. As much as it would hurt to see John every day in their flat, it was better than the alternative. Better than losing John for good.

Sherlock gritted his teeth to stop the humiliating moisture in his eyes from betraying his true feelings and turned to the door. He couldn't stand in the same room with John any longer. Not now. Not tonight. There were too many feelings - too many destroyed hopes - in the air and Sherlock just needed to go out, to go away and...

"Where are you going?"

Sherlock startled, when a hand closed around his wrist, as he reached for the handle of the door, but he didn't dare to turn his head to meet John's gaze. "I need fresh air."

John snorted and tightened his grip. "You were out there for hours. It's freezing, you can't...Oh!" The breath hitched in John's throat and Sherlock tensed as he feared that his friend had figured out the real reason why he wanted - had to - leave. "You don't need to go, if you are uncomfortable with... If you don't want to share a room tonight, I'll sleep in the living-room. It's... that's your bedroom after all."

Sherlock glanced behind John at his bed and shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'm not even tired and I just need to..."

"You are still upset." John sounded resigned as he stated that simple fact and Sherlock didn't have the strength to deny it. He turned in John's grip and slumped against the closed door, his gaze cast at the floor. "It's fine," he tried half-heartedly, which was met with a bitter laugh. "No, Sherlock, it's not fine. You are clearly upset and it's my fault and... I can't stand seeing you like that." John let go of his wrist, in favor of gripping both of his upper arms and frowning up in Sherlock's face. "I don't know what it is - what else I have done wrong - but please, tell me."

"You haven't done anything wrong."

"Bullshit!" John's hands tightened on his arms and Sherlock wondered if he would find bruises in the morning. The only marks, John would ever leave on him, if he was correct. "Tell me, what's wrong! It will only lead to another misunderstanding, if we don't talk about it!" John was insistent and for a second, Sherlock entertained the thought of a snarky remark to rile his friend up and get away from him, as long as he was still distracted. In the end though, Sherlock decided against it. John was right, they would only get in another fight, if Sherlock didn't disclose how he felt for John and that he wished for more than friendship between them. After all, Sherlock was only also human - not matter how much he loathed it at times - and he sincerely doubted that he could hide his feelings from his friend for long, after everything that had transpired between them, in the last week. At least, this way, John wouldn't be surprised if Sherlock kept staring at him for longer than was considered normal for friends... if he was still willing to stay with Sherlock after his confession.

"I... you said that we are still... friends." Sherlock saw the tiny nod from the corner of his eyes and continued. "And you... told me that you... loved me, last week." A surprised gasp, but otherwise John didn't react. "I just wanted you to... know that I... return your feelings, although you probably don't want to... although a relationship with me doesn't hold... any appeal for you anymore. I just wanted you to... know that..."

"You stupid wanker!" The air was pressed from his lungs, when arms closed around him and Sherlock was sandwiched between John and the wall.

"John?" He started tentatively, only to be hugged even tighter. "As if I don't love you anymore, you git. As if I could!" Tearful eyes blinked up at Sherlock and he couldn't decide if John's words or the moisture in his eyes were stranger, even while his heart pounded madly against his ribcage and his mind tried to make sense of the turn of events.

"You still... love me?" Sherlock had never felt so stupid in his life as when he stumbled over these simple words. At least, they should be simple. Humans everywhere, everyday, confessed their love to each other. They were just words, but no matter how much he tried to play their meaning down, Sherlock couldn't keep his heart from fluttering hopefully in his chest.

"Of course, I do." John had the rare ability to smile, while tears were running down his face and to still look happy. Sherlock nodded and barely managed to stop himself from wiping the moisture from John's cheeks. Not yet, he didn't have this right just yet. One more question and then, it would be decided, if he would ever be allowed to touch John in more than a friendly manner.

"And do you... Would you still like to... Is a romantic relationship still..." Sherlock closed his mouth in horror, when he wasn't able to formulate a simple sentence, but he didn't get the chance to bolt from the room in mortification as John finished what he had begun. "If I still want to be in a romantic relationship with you?" Sherlock nodded and John's eyes softened. "Yes, that's exactly what I want. Do you?" Sherlock nodded once more, unable to form any words as John gazed at him with gentle eyes. And then, John closed the gap between their lips and speech wasn't necessary anymore.