Chapter 3

John sat against the wall, waiting for Sherlock to come out, but he was taking extremely long, meaning he had time to clear his thoughts.

Ever since solving the case of the Hounds of Baskerville, Sherlock had been reoccurring in his mind almost none stop. There was just something about that tall, dark brown haired man that intrigued him so much… Not to mention his beautiful, gorgeous cyan eyes…

'For fuck sake, stop it,' John scolded himself, 'It's Sherlock, damn it, out of every person to have a crush on, Sherlock would be the most awkward. He's your flat-mate, and he's Asexual, he probably doesn't even feel that way..'

He recalled the happy memories he had with Sherlock; his alluring laughter, his seductive smile, his impressive intelligence… Just everything about him made John go crazy, and before he knew it, he found himself grinning to himself like an idiot. He hid his face using his sleeve before anybody could see him. There was nothing he could do, whether he wanted to be or not, he was in love with him.

He knew he had certain feelings for Sherlock, almost since the day they first met, Sherlock's quick deductions and the trill of going on adventures with him fascinated John to the core. Even though Sherlock could be rather intolerant with people, John could always see a spark in Sherlock's eyes whenever they did something together, whether it was solving a case or just getting a take-away at night…

He had to do something about how he felt, but what? John wasn't sure how he'd be able to tell Sherlock, would he be rejected? Most likely, but he had to get it out of his system somehow, even if it did end up with a broken heart.

At that moment, John heard a sharp yelp that sounded like it came from Sherlock. He knocked on the door and pressed his ear against the door,

"Sherlock, are you alright in there?" He asked. He could heard the sound of quite, but pained, panting coming from Sherlock as he took a few moments to answer,

"Yeah, Fine, I… John, can you come in here?" He answered through the door. John opened the door and saw Sherlock's arm in a shoulder sling, occasionally flinching as the doctor was gently tweaking with the sling to make it fit comfortably.

"You should be OK after a couple of weeks," The doctor explained, "But it might be painful at times, so I highly suggest taking painkillers prescribed at your pharmacy."

Sherlock nodded absent-mindedly at what the doctor was saying, clearly not paying any attention at all, so John had to take a mental note of everything that was being said, but as a doctor himself, he didn't have to remember anything new.

John quickly glanced at Sherlock, who was wearily staring at a large poster of the Human skeleton on the wall, only pretending to be listening. John silently sighed through his nose and smirked to himself.

He looked over at the large clock that was looming on the wall, it was 6:05pm already. How long have they been here!?

It was still over an hour and a half before they left the hospital, after Sherlock was given heavy medication for the pain, John had to help him keep steady as they returned home. Neither of the two said much on the cab journey home, spending most of the time gazing out the windows. John tried to think of how to talk to Sherlock about how he felt, while Sherlock was thinking about what Mycroft told him.

When Sherlock and John finally reached to 221b, it was already dark outside with only the moonlight and the streetlights to let people see through the darkness. They were still silent, but John guided the drugged and tired Sherlock upstairs into their flat. John tried to flip the switch to turn on the light, only to find it wouldn't work,

"Electricity's faulty…" He muttered to himself annoyingly, he was meaning to talk to Mrs Hudson about that.

He gently kept hold of Sherlock's good arm and slowly made his way to the sofa, where he could see a trail of light on it coming from the moon. He sat himself and Sherlock down and relaxed, giving out a yawn, to which Sherlock did immediately after.

Sherlock then lent his head against John's shoulder, which was something John didn't expect.

"Thank you…" Sherlock mumbled softly under his breath. "Thank you for helping me today, John…"

"Wh-What do you mean?" John asked sheepishly, feeling himself blush. He did, of course, know exactly what Sherlock meant, but it still wasn't something he would say casually. Maybe being under the influence of drugs made Sherlock less shy about his soft side.

Sherlock didn't move from where he was, but he did gently brush his head against John's shoulder,

"I mean thank you for helping me when I hurt my shoulder," He replied in a soft, quite tone, "I don't know what I could have done without you…"

John then smiled and tenderly rubbed Sherlock's arm,

"It's alright, what else was I going to do? You know I'll always be there to help you…" He replied, resting his head against Sherlock's soft, curly hair. John was in complete bliss, Sherlock's sweet scent almost over whelmed him. The night was silent and the sound of Sherlock's breathing was like a soft lullaby.

John's touch made Sherlock's heart flutter. He wanted to stay like that forever. Just him and John together without caring about anything else. To just be by his side for the rest of his life.

"It's now or never, Sherlock. Either you tell him, or I tell him myself…" Sherlock recalled what Mycroft told him. He wasn't sure whether he meant to have said it out loud or not, but after taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth,

"I love you…"