Firstly, I want to thank you all for adding this story to your favourites, it was a very big surprise for me to see so many view in such a short time. And thanks A LOT for those of you who've sent me reviews, that's what keeps me motivated. Enjoy this new chapter, and again, feel free to review, criticism is constructive.

I dedicate this second chapter to BarbaraK1, Florence The Impaler, jennabrooke7, ma5dz, xSommerRegen and Sam. Thank you guys, for being my first followers \o/

By the end of the week, the case was solved. Sherlock had been thanked by another pair of cufflinks, John had had to poke him in the ribs to remind him to smile for the photograph, and they were soon back at 221b, John attempting to update his blog while Sherlock was pacing like a lion in a cage.

'I need a new case, John' Sherlock said, joining his hands in front of his mouth, still pacing around the living-room.

'Déjà-vu. Why can't you just rest, like all normal people ?'

'I'm not normal, John' the black-haired man answered with disdain.

'I know that. But even if you don't like it, you're still human. And humans do need to rest.'

Sherlock growled and let himself crash on the sofa, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He took a long inspiration to try and relax. That was not very effective.

'I need to move, John. I need to do something. I need something to feed my mind. '

'How about that little chat we had ? You know, the one about you being gay...' john teased him.

'Not again, John.'

'Yes, again, Sherlock. You never talk about your feelings. And don't tell me you don't have feelings, I know that's not true. You actually said that you liked some people, remember ?'

'I was being nice -'

'No you weren't.' John cut him off. 'What you do is either being sarcastic or telling the truth, and that was definitely not sarcasm'.

'Yes it was.' Sherlock insisted.

'You're being childish, now.' John sighed, rubbing his forehead with the tip of his fingers. 'You know, it would be easier if you agreed to cooperate. And when we're done with it, I'll leave you at peace'.

The pale man seemed to be actually considering it. He shifted his weight quickly, sitting crossed-leg on the sofa, hands still joined before his mouth. He had the 'serious face' on, brows furrowed, eyes piercing towards John. 'Okay, speak.' he simply said.

'Well, huh...' he hesitated. This had caught him by surprise. He turned on his chair to face Sherlock.

'Well, as I said, I believe you are gay, despite what you said – or rather didn't say – when we met, and I also believe that you... fancy me.'

'So ?'

'So, I'd like you to talk about it. To admit it.'

'Why ?'

'Because...' John stopped. Oh, Sherlock was good. He was making the ex-army doctor speak instead of speaking himself. John sighed, tilting his head.

'You're clever Sherlock, but stop doing that. Just answer me, now. With real proper answers, not questions. '

'You didn't ask anything, John.'

He jumped out of his chair. 'For god's sake, Sherlock ! '

'Yes, John ?' he grinned. He was clearly taunting him, now. But he was right. John didn't ask anything, really. He took a long breath and sat next to Sherlock on the sofa. 'Do you-' His eyes went slowly from the floor to Sherlock's face '-fancy me?'. He gulped nervously, awaiting the answer. The black-haired man hadn't moved, eyes still watching the very spot John had just left.

'Yes' the clinical voice said.

Well that was an improvement. A big improvement. A slightly frightening improvement, actually. Sherlock turned his whole body, legs still crossed, and crossed his arms as well, now facing the doctor.

'Can I ask you something, now ?'

'You usually don't ask for permission' John said with a small nervous laugh 'but yeah, go on'.

'Do you fancy me, John?'

Ah, that question, of course. He should have seen it coming.