"You know there are different ways of getting me to respond than throwing a spoon at my head." Sherlock rubbed his head where the spoon hit his head.

"Oh really? Like what?" John set his tea cup down and looked at Sherlock.

"Like, traveling the 3 meters to tap me on the shoulder."

Sherlock looked at John expecting an answer but recieved only a laugh from the doctor. John tried to smother his laughter and replied throught giggles, "How many times have I done that and you not respond?"

Sherlock just stared at his flatmate.

"If i had a quid for each time I did that and you continued to what ever you do," Sherlock interrupted him. "I go to my mind palace by the way." John continued. "Whatever. If I did have a quid for each time I did that and failed, I would be rich."

Sherlock didn't respond. There was a long and drawn out silence between them. After a few minutes, Sherlock quickly stood from his chair and began walking toward the bathroom.

"I'm going to take a shower." John didn't have time to respond before he heard the door slam and the water turn on. A few moments later, Sherlock emerged with a rather large purple towel tied around his waist. John turned his head toward Sherlock and felt his face grow hot at the sight of Sherlock shirtless again.

"How the hell am I supposed to take a shower with all these bandages and this arm cast?" He pointed to the biggest bandage, on his shouldler, and held up his cast.

"Uh..." John stammered, obviously uncomfortable. "Try a sponge bath." John said, his face getting redder by the second.

Sherlock groaned. "sponge baths are so annoying, why are you turning red?" Sherlock's voice turned from disgust to wonder and his face followed.

John stuttered for words but had none. Sherlock stood with his arms awkwardly crossed on his chest.

"I...I'm not." John turned his head away and towards his book.

Sherlock just laughed and retreated back to the bathroom. The only sound in the flat was the running water and Sherlock loudly singing an opra as usual. Suddenly there was a loud roaring sound and a scraping sound.

John jumped up and ran to the bathroom. He knocked loudly on the door. "Sherlock what the hell are you doing in there!" John yelled over the noise.

Suddenly the wiring stopped. Sherlock opened the door to reveal what he had been doing. On the counter lay a wood cutting saw and Sherlock's cast. Sherlock was in the door way with an enormous smile on his face. He held up both arms.

John just stood in front of Sherlock, his mouth open and his eyes on the detective in disbelief.

"I got it off." Sherlock said happily and once again closed the bathroom door and continued singing.

John didn't know what to do or think. he just stood in front of the door, replaying the scene in his mind.

"Sherlock you crazy bastard." John whispered to himself, smiled and walked back toward his chair and plopped down.

Sherlock stood in the shower watching the water escape down the drain. A thousand thoughts were going throught his head at once.

Why was John's face so red? He seemed so uncomfortable. Was it because I was only in a towel? Why would that make him uncomfortable?

Sherlock sighed and rubbed his face. He decided to go visit his mind palace.

Sherlock walked down the empty halls of his mind palace listening to the echoes of memories from inside the doors he passed. Sherlock knew what he was looking for. His security door. A door that basically recorded all sounds from when he was in here.

He walked down the halls for quite a while before seeing a rusty door marked, SECURITY.

"Finally." He whispered, although he knew there was no one around to hear.

He pushed on the door and it slowly slid open with a groan. Inside, there was only a chair. It didn't matter. Sherlock knew how to access the sound records. He walked in and sat in the chair and began to listen to all the sounds until he found the one he was looking for. He recognized it by the few minutes of violin songs he played at the time. The recording played on, long hours of silence interruped by John's voice.

"Good morning Sherlock. I was thinking about last night. I shouldn't have yelled at you. You were right. It really wasn't a big deal you didn't tell me."

Silence.

"I was actually thinking about... I was thinking about how amazing you looked when I stood close to you and how you smelled so good. Like aftershave and tea."

Sherlock paused the recording. He thought for a moment. About what John had said.

He said I looked amazing. And that I smelled good. What?

Sherlock continued the rocording.

"Sherlock, you're making me question my sexuality. You and your hair and your cheekbones. You are amazing in a lot of ways and you are beautiful in a lot of ways but you can also be a dick."

There was a loud thumping sound and the tape ended.

Sherlock walked out of his mind palace and joined the real world.

I'm making him question his sexuality? What about my cheekbones? He said I was beautiful. Why would he tell me that?

A million thoughts were going through his head at once when they were interrupted by a sudden knock at the door.

"Sherlock! What are you doing? You've been in there for an hour and a half!" John's voice echoed throught the bathroom.

"I'll be out in a minute!" Sherlock responded

Sherlock pulled on his shirt, still thinking about what John had said. The words rang through his mind.

'Making me question my sexuality...you and your hair and your cheekbones.'

Sherlock opened the bathroom and walked down the hall and plopped down in his chair. He stared at John reading his book, noticing everything. The way his fingers curved around the edges, the way his brow bent when he was reading, the way he crossed his legs and moved his foot up and down.

Sherlock thought about bringing up what John had said about him.

"John." Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

John looked up from his book at Sherlock. "Yes Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't even know where to start. How would he tell John he heard what he said that morning?

"I... There's something I have to tell you." Sherlock looked down at his bare feet.

There was silence. "Well, go ahead." John encouraged.

"I..." Sherlock swallowed. "I heard what you said this morning. I mean about me."

John's face turned white. "Uh, I... I.." John stuttered.

"Stop. Don't try to cover up what you said. It's actually quite flattering that you fancy me, sort of." Sherlock smiled.

John, now very red in the face stood from his chair and walked into the kitchen to make tea.

Sherlock sat for a minute, contemplating his feelings for his flatmate.

I don't do 're unnecessary and take a lot of work to keep them "healthy". Although...

Sherlock looked at John bustling about in the kitchen. His eyes wandered to the arch of John's back and imagined his hand there, pressing his flatmate close to him. Sherlock found himself aroused and shivered.

He stood up and walked silently in the kitchen and stood behind John, who was trying to decide between peppermint and lemon.

"Sherlock, do you want Peppermint or lemon?" John called without turning around.

Sherlock stood inches from the back of John. He leaned his head toward John's ear, careful not to alarm John and let him know he was there.

"Lemon would be fabulous." Sherlock whispered into John's ear in a low and seductive whisper.

John jumped at the sound, almost dropping the teas. He whirled around, his face now inches from Sherlock's.

"Lemon." Sherlock smiled at John.

Sherlock 's hand slid to John's back, exactly the way Sherlock had imagined. He placed his hand on the arch and pulled John closer.

"If it's worth anything, you're making me question my sexuality too." Sherlock whispered in the low, seductive voice.

John was frozen in place, his eyes were fixed on Sherlock's amazing blue ones.

Sherlock closed the space between them with a small kiss. John felt his stomach get hot and his head began to spin. At first, John was stunned, but after a few moments, he melted into Sherlock. His arms wrapped around the Detective's neck. He kissed Sherlock back with a pleading to explore his mouth. Sherlock opened his mouth to welcome John. He slid his tongue in and explored every spot. Sherlock returned the favor. John's hand slid up and he began running his hand through Sherlock's curly hair.

Sherlock pulled away from John, their foreheads still touching. John stared into the detectives eyes. The usually reserved and emotionless face of Sherlock was now filled with love and happiness.

"That was unexpected." John gasped. Sherlock smiled.

"I couldn't help myself." Sherlock's smile grew wider.

John inhaled the intoxicating scent of Sherlock, aftershave and tea. He felt Sherlock's warm and comforting breath on his face

"Sherlock, can I tell you something?" John said, still looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't respond but John could tell he was listening by the look in his eyes.

"I love you. You're amazing and smart and handsome. You make me happy. Before we met, I didn't know what happiness was really. My life was plain. I had no adventure. But life with you, I'm never bored. And I love it."

Sherlock didn't respond. He only smiled at the confession.

The embrace was broken by Mrs. Hudson's voice. "Oh my! I'll come back later."

John and Sherlock reluctantly let go of each other.

"You've already ruined the moment. What is it Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock looked at her. He could see that she had gained a few pounds in the last month and that he could see that she had just recently bought the shoes that she was wearing and already didn't like them.

"There's a client downstairs." Mrs. Hudson pointed toward the door.

"We're busy. Tell them to come back later." Sherlock was now annoyed and his voice showed it.

Mrs. Hudson gave Sherlock and John a Mischievous look and walked back downstairs.

The moment she was out of sight Sherlock turned toward the sitting room and sat down in it, grabbing a newspaper on the way down. John followed, still looking dazed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before John broke it.

"Are we going to talk about what happened in the kitchen?" John asked.

"What is there to talk about? We kissed. Isn't that an obvious sign of affection?" Sherlock looked puzzled.

John looked at Sherlock.

"Well, yes but, i mean if that kiss was just a passing thing or if it will happen again."

"I rather enjoyed it." Sherlock knew he was underestimating how much he enjoyed it. He wanted to leap at John and bury his hands in John's straight, sandy hair. He wanted to close the space between them. To feel the warmth of John's tongue against his own. To feel his body pressed against the doctor's. To feel John's hands pulling on his hair.

"Did you?" Sherlock shifted in his seat.

"Yes, why wouldn't I?" John smiled at the detective.

"Then I would say it should happen again." Sherlock returned the smile.