John wrapped his arms around his pillow, nuzzling into the silky fabric, letting out a quiet sigh; trying to ignore his pounding headache, he had definitely had too much wine last night, the headache was the main giveaway, but last night's events were a bit foggy, and he couldn't remember making it to his bedroom. He lay on his bed trying to remember, but gave up because it hurt to think.

As the doctor began to come round he realised that his pillow was moving, no not moving, breathing. He gasped as he realised what had happened, his eyes shoot open, coming face to face with Sherlock's hairy chest. John pulled his arms free, which were tucked under Sherlock and he tried to move without waking the taller man, struggling to untangle their legs and loosen the grip Sherlock had around his waist.

John eventually gave up, too tired to struggle and flopped back onto Sherlock's chest, snuggling up to the sleeping man. He took the opportunity to stare at Sherlock without the fear that he might see him doing so. John's eyes wandered over the other man's face, and he reached up to brush one of his brown curls from his face, his fingers then moved to trace along Sherlock's jaw to his chin. From his chin John's fingers made their way down his throat, brushing against his Adam's apple. John's fingers moved to the collar of Sherlock's purple shirt, the one he secretly loved to see him in. He pulled the collar down, revealing the man's neck. John swallowed, not wanting to push his luck.

"Sherlock?" he called his name three more times before coming to the conclusion the man was asleep, but just to make sure he ripped Sherlock's nicotine patch off.

Satisfied that Sherlock was asleep John lent down, kissing his neck before nipping gently at the delicate, pale skin. His tongue snaked out and licked where he had been nibbling before he pressed his lips against the damp skin and gently sucked, stopping in between sucks to lick at the mark he was creating, stopping when he could taste blood.

John mentally kicked himself, this time making the effort to escape Sherlock's grip, heading to the bathroom. He needed a shower, a cold shower. John sat in the corner of the shower, letting the water fall on him, despite how cold the water was John didn't shiver, his body was so hot and flustered the chill was welcoming. He dragged his fingers through his hair, annoyed with himself, annoyed that he had done such a thing to Sherlock without permission or even trying to discuss their relationship.

The berocca tablet fizzed at the bottom of the glass, the doctor occasionally stirring the water to help it dissolve faster. Whether or not the tablets would help with his hangover was another thing, so just in case he decided to take some painkillers as well. John froze when he heard movement from the living room, holding his breath as Sherlock rose from the sofa, turning to face him, a sleepy smile spread across his lips as he stretched, revealing his toned stomach and snail-trail of hair. John gawked at the man; he was almost too irresistible, especially in the morning, John kicked himself again, the fact the man was so irresistible was the reason John had almost lost control this morning. The doctor dropped another berocca tablet into some water for Sherlock, handing it to him.

"Or maybe you'd prefer something stronger?" Sherlock took the glass, taking a sip of the disgusting drink.

"Or both," he said, flicking the kettle on. John dared a peek at Sherlock's neck, taking a sharp intake of breath when he saw how prominent his mark was against the pale skin, and of course, once Sherlock noticed the mark it would be hard to deny that it had been made by him.

"Fresh air?" John asked, downing the last of his orange coloured drink, heading to his bedroom to get changed, smiling at Sherlock's expression. Sherlock made himself a coffee, not bothering to change; he knew how much John liked purple on him.

John looked through his wardrobe, unsure of what to wear. He picked out a pair of jeans and a woolly jumper, grabbing his parker on the way out, heading back downstairs.

"Why do you still have that coat John?" Sherlock asked, finishing his coffee and placing the mug on the side.

"I think you know the answer to that Sherlock, I'm sure you and your mind can deduce that much." John smiled, teasing.

"It's sentimental to you, and it's sentimental to me too." John frowned.

"Why is it sentimental to you?"

"Because it's the first time you risked your life for me, and it's when I realised something." John held his breath, the air between them had changed, it was intensified, heavy, and John felt a tingle surging through his body.

"Realised what?" John managed to squeak, swallowing. Sherlock leaned closer to John, who was almost squirming under Holmes' gaze. His lips were so close to John's and the small man felt his cheeks begin to heat.

"I realised tha-"

"Oh good morning boys!" Mrs Hudson's voice came from the stairs. "I didn't expect you two to be up this early." She was holding some fruit, she always brought small supplies up for them, and she knew John sometimes had a hard time keeping up with Sherlock's eating habits. Sherlock turned sharply to face the landlady, grabbing one of the apples from her hand, thanking her before walking down the stairs; John quickly grabbed Sherlock's scarf, running after the taller, dark haired man, flustered and red-faced, Mrs Hudson winking at him as he passed.

The two of them strolled through Regent's park, Sherlock had the scarf securely wrapped around his neck, covering the mark, which made John relax, he was able to keep the evidence of his erratic passion to himself for a little longer; then yet again, he wanted to show Sherlock how he felt, was the man really blind to John's obvious feelings for him, surely the events of the landing 10 minutes ago was evidence enough.

"John?"

Sherlock wasn't cruel enough to lead him on, on their first date he had made it clear he was married to his work; but, Sherlock had said he didn't have friends and here John was, Sherlock's only friend. Maybe his feelings for him did just stop at friend, maybe he was no more than a colleague and a flatmate; but they held hands, they ate dinner alone together, they cuddled…ok, they cuddled and held hands when they were drunk; but it had to count for something.

"JOHN!" Sherlock shouted. The smaller man jumped, looking up into Sherlock's eyes.

"Yes?" Holmes rolled his eyes, pushing John in the direction of a bench, telling him to sit, before disappearing. John was left to his thoughts again and found himself biting at his nails; at least Sherlock wasn't there to deduce everything he was doing. John looked around after about 5 minutes of sitting alone, wandering where Sherlock had gone, although it didn't surprise John, Sherlock was always wandering off without telling anyone where he was going, although recently he hadn't run off alone, he had asked John to go with him, that had to be another good sign.

A cup was presented in front of John's face and he took it, tilting his head back so he could see Sherlock, who was smiling down at him.

"Thank you," John smiled back. Sherlock jumped over the bench and sat next to him, both sipping at their coffee. "What should we do today then?" John asked, digging into his pockets to find his gloves, handing them to Sherlock.

"We could…go to the zoo?" John almost spat his coffee out, looking at Sherlock as if he was joking.

"London zoo?"

"Yes of course London zoo, is there another zoo around here?" Sherlock almost snapped. John should have replaced the nicotine patch after he ripped it off, but Sherlock hadn't noticed yet, only his mood made it obvious he didn't have one on.

"Ok…London zoo it is…shall we?" John stood up heading in the direction of the zoo, Sherlock following close behind.

Sherlock paid for both of them, despite John offering him money. Truth be told John was actually excited about going to the zoo, he'd never been but had always wanted to, now he was there with Sherlock.

John found himself been dragged around the zoo by Holmes, he was like a child, not able to stand still, but John didn't mind, he was enjoying himself just as much as Sherlock…maybe a little bit more due to the fact Sherlock was holding his hand.

The only time they stopped for longer than a couple minutes was when they sat down for lunch, John had offered seen as Sherlock had paid to get in, but the dark haired man refused and insisted that he was the one to buy lunch because he was the host of the date. That had made John's heart flutter and he allowed Sherlock to pay, been left alone with his thoughts again, the fact that Sherlock had called their visit to the zoo a date made John a little more hopeful. But date had two meanings: a social appointment or a romantic appointment…this could be either one of those.

"Do you remember when we went to Dartmoor?" Sherlock suddenly asked when he returned.

"Yes Sherlock, I remember when we went to Dartmoor, why do you ask?"

"What do you remember about it?"

"Everything," John stated, not wanting to reveal too much, because been at Dartmoor had made John decide for certain that he loved Sherlock. When Sherlock had seen the Hound and had broken down due to the foreign feelings that he was been plagued by, John had never seen Holmes so vulnerable and wanted to do everything he could to help Sherlock and to please him, plus the fact they had to share a bed at the inn, that had pleased John to no end, and Sherlock didn't seem too bothered either; but he remembered Dartmoor for another reason, they had had their first proper argument in Dartmoor, which had broken John's heart, but Sherlock had apologised, as best as he could, and that's when he had told John that he was Sherlock's only friend, but even before Sherlock had apologised John had already forgiven him.

The two of them ate, no doubt Sherlock was trying to figure out what John had mean by everything. Without thinking john added sugar to Sherlock's coffee, stirring it for him, continuing to eat his sandwich, a cheese and pickle one; he smiled, of course Sherlock knew what sandwiches he liked, plus, John hadn't had a cheese and pickle sandwich in awhile, he welcomed the taste it brought to his mouth, he had almost forgotten it.

They had spent 3 hours in the zoo, plus another hour eating. They walked back towards Baker Street walking the way then had come.

"What should we do now John, it's your turn to pick," Sherlock said as he looped his arm through the smaller mans.

"If I was to pick something Sherlock, you would complain that it was boring or that you didn't feel like doing it." The corner of Sherlock's lips curled into a smile.

"Doing it." Sherlock muttered to himself, sniggering. "Should we head back to Baker Street?" John rolled his eyes agreeing, letting Sherlock drag him through Regents Park.

"I made dinner arrangements," John said was they strolled down the quiet park. "For the two of us." He clarified when he saw Sherlock's shoulders tense, before relaxing.

"Where are we having dinner?"

"At the small Italian on Northumberland Street, the place we first had dinner together." Of course Sherlock remembered where they had first had dinner, it's the place they had been when they had been solving their first case together, and they had been there before running after the taxi.

Back at Baker Street John found himself in his room, looking at possible outfits to wear tonight, the Italian wasn't exactly fancy, but John wanted to look good. Meanwhile Sherlock was doing the exact same thing downstairs. Once John had sorted his outfit out he wandered into the living room, turning the television on, flicking through the channels; Sherlock joining him on the sofa, resting his legs on John, who just stroked one of them, without realising.

John's face reddened when he realised he had been stroking Sherlock's legs, pausing for the briefest of moments before continuing. He raised an eyebrow as his mind picked up on something, every time his hand stroked close to Sherlock's ankle the man would tense slightly, John tried to hold back a smile as he turned to the dark haired man.

To test his theory, as the two of them were staring at each other John ran the back of his finger along the top of Sherlock's foot, watching the man squirm slightly, before running his nail along the bottom of his foot. Sherlock squealed, pulling his leg back, and John couldn't help the laugh that escaped from his lips.

"The great Sherlock Holmes' weakness is been tickled," John cried out in hysterics as Sherlock tired to cover the bottom of his feet as much as possible so he couldn't be tickled further.

"Sherlock Holmes only has one weakness and it is not his feet." The man stated. "My weakness is someon-" he couldn't finish his sentence, John had reached over, grabbing one of his ankles and holding his foot in place to tickle him. Sherlock cried out laughing as John did, reaching up to tickle John's armpits, at first the doctor didn't react, but as Sherlock continued, the tickle obviously began to effect John as he had to wriggle away from his touch; both falling back, panting, still laughing at each other.

"Well that was interesting," John said shuffling to get comfy again. "I didn't realise how human you actually were." John pat his lap, indicating Sherlock to put his feet back. Sherlock shook his head.

"I'm not falling for that John, you're not going anywhere near my feet now." Sherlock crawled along the sofa, lying with his head on John's lap and his feet at the other end. "That's better." Sherlock let out a sigh, closing his eyes as if he was ready to take a nap. John's heart was beating out of his chest, his stomach doing back flips. "Why are you nervous John?" Sherlock suddenly asked.

"I'm not nervous…why would I be nervous?"

"Do you really want me to go through all the evidence that indicates you are nervous?" Sherlock questioned, looking up at John. The smaller man shook his head, his eyes darting to the mark on Sherlock's neck at was now visible as Sherlock turned towards him.

"That would give you an excuse to show off," John teased, bopping Sherlock on the nose with his finger. The two of them watched the television, a cooking programme which was focused on Asian food and drink. Although it was obvious that neither of them were paying attention, both lost in their own thoughts. John looked at the clock, attempting to stand up so he could go and get changed, but Sherlock refused to budge. "Sherlock move, I've got to go get changed."

"But I'm comfy," the dark haired man complained.

"Sherlock if you don't move I'm not taking you out to dinner." That made Sherlock move and he sulked at the other end of the sofa, frowning with his arms crossed, watching as John left the room.

John pulled on some black trousers and a light blue shirt, not bothering with a tie, looking at himself in the mirror, quickly putting some aftershave on, and heading back to Sherlock. Sherlock had also decided to get changed, wearing a white shirt with his black trousers; he was pulling his blazer on as John entered.

"That colour suits you." Sherlock stared a little too long, making John blush.

"It's um…new." John fidgeted in the doorway. "There's a taxi waiting, we should probably hurry." Sherlock agreed, grabbing his coat and scarf, handing John his parker.

"Does this count as a date?" Sherlock asked when they were in the taxi, heading to the restaurant.

"It can be whatever you want it to be Sherlock," John replied. "But yes, a date would be the best way of describing what we are doing."

"Hmm…a social date or a romantic date?" Sherlock watched as John's cheeks reddened in the dark taxi, smiling to himself, oh yes, he knew how to wind John up, but he was actually intrigued as to which date this was classed as.

The taxi stopped outside the little Italian and John paid, following Sherlock inside where they were both greeted by Sherlock's old friend who sat them down and offered them free food and wine, which they both accepted, John would leave some money to cover the meal afterwards.

"What are you going to have?" John asked as Sherlock scanned the menu.

"I think I'll have the salmon tagliatelle, and a bottle of white wine." John looked back down at the menu. "What are you having?" Sherlock asked, opening up his napkin, getting it ready for when the food arrived.

"Well I was going to have the same, but I'll get the chicken and mushroom ravioli and an extra bottle of white wine after we finish the first." John smiled, oh yes, they would be getting through at least two bottles of wine, it's not like they had to be up for anything.

"Ravioli sounds nice, we could always share the dishes," Sherlock's eyes lit up and they smiled at each other, giving their order to a rather pretty waitress. Sherlock watching John reaction, which, to his surprise John didn't react the way he used to, he barely noticed the girl.

John froze when Sherlock scratched his neck where the mark was, hoping that he didn't notice, Sherlock noticed John slightly pale face, frowning at him. "What?" he asked, turning to look behind him; John quickly composed himself, smiling.

"Nothing I just thought I saw someone I knew from the army." That was the best thing he could come up with and rolled his eyes.

"Oh right…John do I have something on my face? The lady over there keeps staring." Sherlock leaned closer to John as if to give him a better look.

"Maybe she's staring because you're irresistibly handsome?" John cringed, brain to mouth malfunction.

"You think I'm irresistibly handsome?" Sherlock asked, amused, running his index finger along his lips, watching John's eyes follow their movement.

"No, I – I was just saying that's probably what she thinks." John sighed looking down at the table; the wine arriving at the table right on queue; as soon as John's glass was full he grabbed it, take a large swig of the liquid, shivering lightly. Sherlock just watched him, amused at how easy it was to get John flustered.

"Sorry John, I'm only teasing," Sherlock said as he reached for John's hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. He felt John's pulse rise through his fingertips which were lightly pressed against the other man's wrist and he had watched his pupils dilate, oh yes; John was completely smitten by him.