"This is going to be more difficult than I initially thought." Sherlock thought to himself.

Sherlock was walking alongside John and focused ahead. The wind began to bite at his ears, so he turned up his collar. John did the same and they shuffled a little closer to block the wind. John could feel his nerves double up as they walked so close that they were almost touching. Sherlock suddenly stopped.

"John…" Sherlock started.

"Yes?"

"Are you really sure about this?" Sherlock's face was expressionless, but his eyes betrayed him.

John looked into those blue-grey eyes and felt a sense of comfort that he didn't know before. He then gave Sherlock a positive smile and a genteel nod. Sherlock returned one nod and looked back ahead to their destination. They were both sure about their new relationship. Sherlock decided that it was enough for him.

That doubt popped into John's head again and it was a little harder to ignore this time around. Sherlock still looked troubled and John found The Doubt extremely troubling. Perhaps it would go away with time. He turned his focus back to getting to Bart's. They were almost there, so soon he would have something else to focus on. John walked alongside Sherlock and remained quiet. He didn't know how to go about getting through to Sherlock, and that bothered him greatly. John needed a moment to himself to sort out his thoughts. He also needed to set a cool cloth on his face, if that said anything.

"Sherlock, I'll meet you in the lab. Going to the loo really quickly."

Sherlock nodded and went into the lab on his own. He started to run an analysis on the blood and dart, which wasn't a very difficult process, so he found himself thinking about John. There were so many things to think about with the shorter man. The way he walked was one. He walked several different ways. There was the relaxed walk, which Sherlock usually saw when they were in the flat after a long day. Then there was the military walk, which John acquired when they were on a case or he had somewhere important to be. The other walk that Sherlock could think of right away was the annoyed walk, which made its presence known when Sherlock was either experimenting with body parts or when Sherlock was significantly stroppy. Sherlock smiled slightly and looked back down at the drug analysis.

After a few minutes in the loo, John decided that he was calm again and his problems were strictly imaginary. Sherlock had chosen him of all people. Why should he worry? Well, no, don't answer that one. John quickly walked back to the lab and watched Sherlock from the door. That familiar sight made the doctor smile. His mind went back to their first meeting, when he noticed the man. He was just as beautiful then as he appeared now. He walked behind Sherlock and watched what he was doing.

"Any luck yet?"

"The drug was a form of LSD. You shouldn't have any serious problems from it now, though." Sherlock looked up from the microscope then and stood in front of John, "I am sorry. For earlier. Not for her sake, but yours."

John shook his head, "Don't apologize. All is well. It's ok."

John looked up at Sherlock. The dim fluorescent lights brought out the pale elegance in Sherlock's skin. John blushed a little as he reached out for Sherlock's hand and held the slender fingers in his grasp. Sherlock looked down and held John's hand for only a moment, but then let it go. He then proceeded to wrap his arms around John and he held his doctor close and buried his face in John's hair. John breathed in and wrapped his strong arms around the detective. The smell and heartbeat of the detective made John relax and feel at home. John held Sherlock close and gently ran his fingers around the detective's shoulders.

Sherlock could have stayed like this forever; just holding and breathing in his blogger. His John. Sherlock pulled his head back and put their foreheads together. John breathed in and looked into Sherlock's eyes. A small smile played at his lips as he looked into the beauty of the man that never failed to amaze him. Sherlock took one hand and put it on the back of John's head, running his fingers through the short thick hair there. John felt his pulse quicken as he breathed in. The feeling of Sherlock's fingers in his hair sent shivers down his spine. John wrapped his arms around and up to rest his forearms on Sherlock's shoulders. John closed his eyes and breathed in the cool scent of Sherlock.

Sherlock's pulse was racing. He wanted to lean in and place his lips against John's, but something stopped him; Fear.

"It's alright, Sherlock. Everything is alright. Believe me." John whispered, wanting Sherlock to learn.

Fear that if something happened, that if John ever came to his senses and found someone better, that he would not be able to come back from that pain. John brought Sherlock back by rubbing his cheek and caressing the smooth curls of his hair.

"Believe me. It's alright." John breathed.

Sherlock's heart was racing so quickly that he felt as if it would completely stop. Gathering his strength and quelling his nerves, Sherlock gently pressed his lips against John's in a very small, very chaste kiss. John felt the breath escape him as he returned the small kiss. His heart simply fluttered in that chaste, perfect, beautiful kiss. It was not like anything he'd ever had before; it was better. John looked into Sherlock's eyes and rubbed his arms warmly. Sherlock pulled back, a small smile of joy on his lips. But that smile fell when he thought of something that would ruin his moment.

"I'm sorry if that wasn't what you were expecting." Sherlock mumbled.

John sighed, "Sherlock, I have learned to never expect anything ordinary from you. That kiss was not ordinary. That's good. Believe me, Sherlock."

To help Sherlock ease his troubled mind, John ran his fingers in Sherlock's mess of curls and pressed their foreheads together.

"John, I honestly don't have any idea what I'm doing. I will need some...guidance...in several areas. This would be one of those areas."

"Well, first of all, that was a very good start. Second, we need to finish up out work here so we can get back to the flat. Any questions that you have, please, ask me. Not your brother, not Lestrade, and certainly not Molly. Ask me."

"I will. I'm finished here if you want to leave now. I know all I need to know."

John nodded and hugged Sherlock close before letting go so that Sherlock could finish doing what he started. John felt his heart pounding and his stomach fluttering. A mixture of nerves and excitement rattled him as he stood to the side. Sherlock quickly collected all of his samples and data. He grabbed his coat and scarf quickly putting both on. He turned back to John.

"Ready?"

"Ready." John nodded and offered a polite smile.

Sherlock returned the smile and walked out of Bart's with a breath of relief. As they were trying to hail a cab, Sherlock spoke up.

"I wonder what damage that lovely bomber left us at our flat. It had better not have damaged any of my experiments or my skull."

"Or my laptop. Who would do this anyways?"

"Someone who wants to be recognized and not my problem right now. What is my problem is filing charges against the man who drugged you."

"And who would that be?"

Sherlock grinned, "Think about it, John. Really think."

"Griffin."

"Precisely. Shouldn't be too hard to charge him, dishonorably discharged, and possibly serve time in prison. His record already stands against him."

"His record?"

"You don't think that he would take a position at the museum voluntarily, do you? He was ordered here when his superiors found out that what happened to you was his fault? This was his way of getting back at you. Make you relive the worst experiences of your life."

John thought about it and sighed.

"Yeah. We didn't call him 'Griffin the Git' for nothing." John remarked.

In the silence, John walked a little closer to Sherlock as they made their way back to Baker Street.

"John," Sherlock started a few moments later, "are you still feeling fine? Nothing from earlier? It should be out of your system by now, but I'm just making sure."

"Yes, just tired now. Let me ask you; how are you feeling? Are you ok?"

John looked at Sherlock and breathed out. He seemed troubled. John decided that once they got back to the flat, he'd fix a cuppa for himself and one for Sherlock. Maybe a hot drink would be beneficial for them both.

"Yes, fine. I am completely fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Sherlock fibbed.

Sometimes it was funny how bad a liar Sherlock was. John smiled to himself.

"Alright, let me rephrase that. What's on your mind, Sherlock?"

Sherlock turned red, which, with his pale complexion, was very obvious.

"Nothing. I wasn't thinking about anything."

Of course John knew all too well that wasn't possible. John sighed as he pulled out his keys. He finally noticed that they had walked all the way back to the flat from Bart's. As he unlocked the door, he looked at Sherlock's red cheeks, which, in turn, made him blush.

"What's troubling you? Don't tell me there isn't anything, because you know as well as I do that you're a bloody terrible liar. Great actor, yes, but you're bad liar."

"Really, nothing is wrong. There's just some...research I need to do." Sherlock's face turned even redder than before, if that were even possible.

John sighed and decided to just let it be. Sherlock would talk when he wanted to.

"Alright. Just, let me know if you need me."

As they walked up the stairs, John noticed how the flat had cleared a bit. When John opened the door, they found the room aired out and minimal damage done to their possessions. John walked to the kitchen and started a kettle.

Sherlock found his laptop, went to the sofa, and settled in. He actually was researching something; it just wasn't something he wanted to tell John. The doctor had told him not to ask for advice from anyone other than him, and that left him with few options. All the while, John was in the kitchen and fixed two mugs of tea. After adding in the cream and sugar, John took them to the living room and offered Sherlock his mug.

Seeing John come up to him, Sherlock closed his laptop quickly and just as quickly took the mug from the doctor.

"Thank you."

John looked at him curiously and sat in his chair with his mug.

"So, how are we going to find the bomber?" John asked while sipping at his tea.

That same doubt from earlier popped back into his mind and persisted. That what if. What if Sherlock, the man who needed constant mind work to function, would get bored with John? What if John couldn't be enough for the great mind and would be cast aside? He wouldn't be able to deal with that kind of pain. What Sherlock didn't realize, much like John, was that the doctor had been harboring feelings for the man since their first case together. Sarah had just been a distraction to him.

"I've got nothing to go on." Sherlock replied, pulling John back to Earth, "Plus, if Lestrade doesn't ask for my help, it is none of my concern."

Sherlock sat his computer down beside the sofa and patted the cushion next to him, to which, John got up and sat beside his detective. Holding his mug very carefully, John sunk down into the cushions beside his Sherlock. Sherlock then reached his arm around John and pulled him closer. He found the hand that wasn't occupied by a mug and threaded their fingers together.

John blushed and felt his body fill with butterflies. Taking the opportunity while he could, John rested his head against the detective's strong shoulder. Sherlock kissed the top of John's head and breathed him in.

"John?" Sherlock asked quietly after a couple of moments.

"Yes?" John replied with a sigh of content.

"Something has been bothering me." Sherlock began.

John listened attentively.

"When we first met, you said you weren't gay. You have maintained that you aren't gay, and even went so far as to date Sarah. So was all that a lie to hide the truth? Is is this a cruel joke, or a dream that I will wake up from, and nothing would have changed between us?"

John nuzzled his head beneath Sherlock's chin and sighed,

"Well, a man can only lie to himself for so long. Eventually, the truth catches up to him, and he must maintain the lie to protect himself and others. Sherlock, if this is a dream we'll both wake up disappointed. And I can assure you, this is no joke. Joking about something like this is just wrong."

John set his mug down and held both of Sherlock's hands.

"Are you following me?"

Sherlock grinned, "Yes, I believe I am."

"Good." John said as he stroked Sherlock's hair back to see his clear eyes.

With a small smile, John kissed Sherlock's cheek and got up to take the dirty mugs into the kitchen to be washed.

"Leave it. They won't mold over in the next few minutes." Sherlock said, pulling John back.

He was just being his usual pouty self. He had been warm and comfortable, and then John had to go and move from his spot. John smiled and set the mugs down on the coffee table.

"Alright, I'm sorry." John apologized as he sat down with open arms.

Sherlock happily settled in them. Now he was the one who had his face against John's good shoulder.

"My John." he murmured quietly.

John smiled and settled his face into Sherlock's curls. Breathing in his unique scent, John closed his eyes.

"My Sherlock." he replied softly.

After a few moments of silence, Sherlock started fidgeting beneath John.

"John, I'm in a bit of an awkward situation, and I will need some help." Sherlock mumbled a bit sheepishly. He was quite glad that his face was buried in John's comfortable chest. John looked down at his new sweetheart's tousled hair.

"What do you need help with?" he asked, slightly oblivious.

"It was mentioned earlier today. Think about it, and make a deduction." Sherlock was still speaking into John's chest.

John really thought, and hoped. Hoped and discouraged the thought of a "need" for Sherlock. Yes, the thought attracted him, but it would be a first for the both of them and they had just started off together not even a few hours ago. John put his face in Sherlock's hair and breathed. John pressed his lips against Sherlock's head and fought urge to yawn.

"Please, tell me." John yawned.

Sherlock looked up at John's face. He looked completely worn out. Sherlock sighed and chuckled a little. He then sat up and kissed the top of John's head.

"Go to bed, love."

"Are you coming with me, or are we waiting for that for a later date?" John mumbled sleepily against Sherlock's neck.

"I will, but only to sleep. You need some rest." Sherlock replied, again, turning pink at the thought.

"I will, I will." with a little blush, John looked at Sherlock, "So, uh, my bed or yours?"

"It doesn't look like you would do too well on the stairs at the moment, so my room seems to be the best option."

John nodded and stood to walk out of the room, his hand still on Sherlock's shoulder.

"I promise there are no experiments in there."

John chuckled and squeezed his shoulder, "Don't be too long."

With a soft kiss on Sherlock's head, John walked back to the room and laid out on the bed after removing his shoes. Sherlock knew that sleep was a lost cause, but he went to his room about ten minutes after his blogger. John was already asleep still fully clothed on top of the covers. Sherlock found a blanket and placed it gently over John, careful not to wake him. He then laid next to him, watching the slow rise and fall of his back.

John slept peacefully for the first few hours, but then he started dreaming. No nightmares like usual. No nightmares that kept him awake at night, wishing for a way to bring back his fallen comrades. Only dreams that made him wonder what in the world really went on in his head. Later, around four in the morning, John woke up to see Sherlock lying beside him, still awake.

"Hmm. Sherlock?"

"Good morning, John. You slept well."

It wasn't a question. Sherlock had watched his doctor all night and there were no signs of John's usual night terrors. John nodded sleepily and wound an arm around his detective's waist.

"Yeah, your bed is comfy." John mumbled against Sherlock's chest, "Why didn't you sleep?"

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's back.

"I had something more entertaining. Sleep is dull."

John chuckled a bit, "Sleep is vital."

Pulling himself and Sherlock up into a sitting position on the bed, John pulled Sherlock to his good shoulder and tangled his hand into Sherlock's curls. The feeling of Sherlock against his shoulder was something he never knew he liked.

"So, have you heard anything at all?"

"John, as hard working as our police force down at the Yard is, I doubt they go to work at four in the morning."

John shook his head. "Sorry. That's the, uh, sleep talking."

"It's fine," Sherlock laughed, "You can sleep more if you need it."

John nodded and took the offer readily. Snuggling down against Sherlock's body, the doctor was asleep in a matter of minutes. Sherlock smiled and held John in his arms. He looked so much younger when he slept. As if none of the horrors of war could have happened to him. Much to Sherlock's surprise, he felt himself getting sleepy.

John savored the feeling of finally being held himself. Of finally being wanted. His nightmares couldn't reach him, and even if they did, he knew Sherlock would protect him. A few hours later, they were both awoken by Sherlock's phone ringing.