John would have liked to properly discuss the kissing incident when they got home, but Sherlock disappeared into his bedroom and did not reemerge. Figuring Sherlock would only talk about this – whatever it was – on his own time, John gave a small shrug of defeat and retired to his own room. He wanted to think about this before discussing it, anyways.

It took John no more than ten minutes or so to realize that he was definitely, beyond a doubt, in love with Sherlock Holmes. Had been for a while. Probably since the first time they met. Really, he'd been an idiot not to realize that sooner (although, in his defense, he'd never been attracted to another man before, so it was rather understandable that he hadn't become aware of his feelings for Sherlock before now).

Sherlock's feelings, however, were still a mystery. Yes, he had been the one to initiate the kiss, and the hand-holding, but John didn't want to make assumptions based on those actions alone. There were many possible explanations that didn't involve Sherlock being in love with John. It could have been an experiment – that was the most likely reason. Still…he had used the words "romantic relationship", and John didn't think Sherlock would bandy those words about just for an experiment.

It was all too confusing. John had no idea how things were supposed to progress from here. Should he just pretend nothing had happened? As much as he wanted a relationship with Sherlock, he didn't want to risk their friendship.

John was suddenly aware of his bedroom door creaking slowly open. He glanced up and was unsurprised to see Sherlock standing silhouetted in the doorway. The detective stood there awkwardly for a few moments before quietly muttering, "May I come in?"

Another surprise. Sherlock asking permission? John was beginning to wonder if he was in some sort of Twilight Zone. Next thing he knew Sherlock would be on friendly terms with Anderson.

"Sure."

Sherlock hesitated, then silently walked in to stand at the foot of John's bed. "May I…?"

John gestured for him to sit.

Perching on the edge of the bed, Sherlock inhaled slowly. John folded his arms expectantly, saying nothing, waiting for the other man to speak. The doctor was attempting to maintain a calm demeanor, but his heart was pounding – something told him that, before the night was over, before either of them left that room, his relationship with Sherlock Holmes would be decided, one way or another.

No pressure.

Eventually, Sherlock spoke. "I…would like to apologize, John. For what happened in the alley."
Here it comes, John thought, feeling an intense mixture of disappointment and relief. Sherlock didn't harbor any romantic feelings for him, and now he was here to say as much.

"I'm not accustomed to thinking of others before I act. Considerate behavior is not my forté. So I fear I…may have acted on my own feelings before determining yours. As a result I feel it would be best if we ensure that we are on the same page."

John took a second to run this through his mental Sherlock-to-English filter. The resulting translation made his heart skip a beat – if Sherlock was saying what John thought he was…No, best not to get ahead of himself. John cleared his throat and tried to sound casual as he replied, "So, what…are you saying, exactly?" There was absolutely no room for misunderstanding here. His relationship with Sherlock was balancing very precariously on the edge of a knife, and when it fell John wanted to make sure it fell on the correct side.

Sherlock was refusing to make eye contact. He exhaled and said, "I'm saying that I may…no, that I have…I'm saying that I think I'm in love with you, John."
John was grateful that Sherlock kept talking after that, because he didn't think himself capable of any sort of coherent response. Instead, he listened silently as Sherlock continued to speak. "I haven't any prior experience to which I can compare these…emotions, so I'm still not certain, which is why I didn't act before now – I dislike not being certain of anything. Especially something this important. But I just…I couldn't hide it any longer." He gave another short exhale. "I took for granted that my feelings would be reciprocated, but as your reaction earlier tonight was less than encouraging, I can only assume that the attraction is one-sided?"

Filter. Translate. Respond. "Are you…are you asking me whether or not I'm in love with you?"

"That is one of the things I'm asking, yes."

"One of them?"

"I have other questions, obviously." Sherlock stood and began pacing. "Did my actions tonight cause irreperable damage? Are things going to be awkward now? Will we have to make alterations to our living arrangements?" He stopped pacing and faced John. "These are questions only you can answer, John."

Part of John wanted to suggest saving the discussion for the morning – he was not prepared to answer that first question on such short notice. But he wanted this resolved. And he knew Sherlock, who was hardly patient at the best of times, would not be sated until he was given the data he wanted.

So John Watson took a deep breath, thought, To hell with it, and said, "In answer to your first question…Yes."

Sherlock blinked, looking as though he didn't quite trust his own ears. "I…what?"

John suddenly felt the urge to smile – he still didn't know how a man as brilliant as Sherlock could be so dense when it came to emotions. "Yes, I'm in love with you. Have been for…well, for a long time, really. Didn't really realize that until tonight, but I'm completely certain of it now."

He wasn't used to seeing Sherlock speechless, and it was an image he wanted to commit to his memory permanently. John fought back a chuckle, not wanting to ruin the moment, and waited for Sherlock to regain the use of his vocal chords.

"So...you're saying..."

"That I love you. That your feelings are reciprocated. That I'm completely ass-over-kettle for you."

"Then why...Your response to the kiss was less than enthusiastic. You seemed angry..."

"I wasn't angry. Just very, very surprised." He allowed himself a small, reassuring smile. "I wasn't exactly expecting you to pull me into an alleyway for a snog."

Sherlock lowered his eyes. "Sorry."

"Don't be. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not doing a good deal of complaining about this turn of events." He patted the empty space beside him. "Now come sit down and we'll get all this sorted, yeah?"

There was a moment of hesitation before Sherlock acquiesced. He settled onto the bed, cross-legged and facing John, a wide-eyed, earnest expression on his face that made him look like a child. John smiled and took Sherlock's hand in his, which elicited a surprised smile from the consulting detective. "I imagine all these emotions are just a little bit confusing."

"Marginally," was Sherlock's wry response. He seemed fascinated with John's hand enveloping his own, and kept staring at it as though he expected John to pull away.

"I've been told that talking through your feelings can help. Or so my therapist says."

"Your therapist is rubbish."

"True. Still, it's a theory worth testing." John gave Sherlock's hand a light squeeze. "Would it help if I went first?" Sherlock gave a small nod. "Okay. Right now I am feeling more than a little nervous and a bit self-conscious and I'm wondering if I've just gone completely mental, because the idea of someone like you wanting to be with someone like me is ridiculous...And I'm certain that, no matter what happens, I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying with you. So if you decide that you were wrong, that you don't actually feel for me in that way, don't worry about losing me as a friend."

John let out a small breath. He hadn't revealed that much of himself to anyone in a long time, and doing so left him feeling both exhilirated and scared to death."Right then, that's me done. Now you have a go."

Sherlock seemed to mull over his thoughts for a bit. Finally he said, "You haven't gone mental." He looked up and met John's gaze, grey eyes locking with blue. "I know the idea of someone like me thinking I've got a chance with someone like you is ridiculous, but..."

"Hang on, that's not what I meant," John said quickly. "You got it backwards. It's stupid for me to think I've got a chance with somebody as amazing as you, not the other way around."

Sherlock's brow furrowed. John could practically see the detective's mind working as Sherlock sorted through all of the existing and incoming data, trying to decide what was important and what wasn't, what had to be addressed right away and what could wait. John had to admit, it was a little satisfying to be the reason the great Sherlock Holmes was currently acting like a confused fifteen year-old boy.

"No...I haven't got it backwards," Sherlock replied slowly. "You're...you're good, John. You're good and...and thoughtful and...Everything I'm not. I don't know why you would want me."

"Because-" John started to say, but Sherlock held up a hand to silence him.

"Let me finish, please." Sherlock paused to gather his thoughts. "Lestrade was right. I'm not a good man. Not yet, anyway. I am selfish and callous and possessive, I automatically put my own whims and needs before everyone else's, and I put everyone near me in danger on a regular basis." He looked John straight in the eye, his expression a mixture of hope and fear and desperation. "I wouldn't be good for you, John. I want to be, I would try to be, but I'm afraid I'd only end up hurting you. I don't want to hurt you. Not ever."

When John was sure that Sherlock had finished speaking, he said, "May I speak now?" Sherlock nodded. "I know you would never want to hurt me. I've lived with you for over two years, I know every last one of your worst traits. And yet I'm still here, despite the fact that you can be an insufferable bastard at times."

"Why did you stay?" Sherlock seemed to be desperately searching for reassurance.

John was all too happy to give it. "Because I love you. Because I could always see the light in you. The potential to be good. I wanted to stick around and be there when you realized that potential." With a smile he added, "And because I'm a total adrenaline junkie and life without you would be extremely dull."

The sides of Sherlock's mouth quirked upwards a little bit, then he turned serious once again. "Why though?"

"Why what?"

"Do you love me?"

John sighed affectionately, using his thumb to rub small circles on the back of Sherlock's hand. "I just do. The thing about love is that it doesn't always have a reason." Sherlock gave an annoyed grunt that made John smile. "I know, you always have to know the why. But this time, you might have to be satisfied with 'because.' Okay?" John shrugged. "Although I must admit, I've no idea why you are in love with me."

"I'm not entirely certain why either. All I know is that I am." Sherlock gave John a small smile. "And I think that's enough for right now."

John smiled back. "Agreed." He looked down at their clasped hands. "So...what now?"

Sherlock sighed. "You should know, John, a relationship with me...it would be anything but conventional. There are certain...physical requirements I cannot meet, for one thing. As physically attractive as I find you, I can't alter the fact that I am and will probably always be asexual. I don't know if you would be willing to sacrifice that sort of intimacy with a partner..."

"As sacrifices go, that one is pretty damn minor. There's not a lot I wouldn't sacrifice to be with you."

"I can't promise that I'll change. That all my bad traits and habits will just disappear."

"Wouldn't want it any other way."

"John?"

"Yes?"

Sherlock hesitantly reached up and cupped John's face in his hand. John held his breath as the consulting detective leaned forward and brought their lips together in a gentle kiss. Unlike the alleyway, this kiss was calm, undemanding. The first kiss had been fueled by impatience and uncertainty. This one was slow and relaxed. It was a "we have a lifetime of this to look forward to, let's not rush it" kiss.

Another surprise.

John suddenly felt as though his entire body was full of electricity. He leaned into the kiss, deepening it a little, and caressed Sherlock's neck with his free hand. He couldn't quite believe this was happening. Couldn't believe that Sherlock Holmes was here, like this, with him. Kissing him. Wanting him.

Couldn't believe that Sherlock - beautiful, brilliant, perfect Sherlock - loved him.

John suddenly felt light-headed as all of the emotions and surprises that had been building up all night took their toll. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the kiss and inhaled deeply, willing his pulse to return to normal.

"John? Are you all right?" Sherlock asked with a concern that he never seemed to direct at anyone else.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'm...brilliant, actually. Just...it's been a bit of an overwhelming evening." He gave Sherlock a lopsided grin, and his heart fluttered when Sherlock did the same.

"Yes, well...it has been a night full of revelations." Sherlock traced his finger down the side of John's face. "Perhaps it would be best if you got some sleep?"

"Maybe." John really was tired - "absolutely knackered" would be a more accurate description - but he didn't want to go to sleep. Maybe because part of him was afraid that he would wake up and find that all this had merely been a dream. But sleep was rapidly becoming more difficult to fight; already he felt himself beginning to nod off.

He was dimly aware of gentle hands pushing him into a lying position, and of a blanket being pulled up to his chin. And right before he drifted into slumber, he was pretty sure he felt someone lay down beside him and wrap an arm around his waist.

His last thought before falling asleep was, Sherlock? Spooning? Not bloody likely.