Author's Note: John and Sherlock meet, finally! Next chapter might have some sexy-times, but I'm still unsure. There will be a great deal of kissing though.
After what felt like hours, Sherlock's cab finally arrived at Heathrow. He passed the cabbie a wad of bills, and walked out without a word. His Belstaff billowed behind him as he half-ran towards the terminal. John's plane landed in a few minutes, and he wanted to be there to greet him. While John had been gone, Sherlock had done some thinking himself. Something along the lines of, I wonder what the effects of smoke are on the lungs of a corpse. I'd ask Molly for a body, but she seems to be avoiding me. Maybe John can ask her out, then she'll be in a good mood. No, John is mine. I need to make him mine. Amazing John, brilliant John, fantastic John.
Sherlock kept on walking, until he saw the giant sign, NO ENTRY. I suppose this is where I wait. I despise waiting. As he waited, he planned out various experiments in his head, composed a violin song, and thought about four more ways to kill Mycroft so no one could find the body. An eternity later, he saw a bowed blond head in the crowd. His lips turned upward into one of his rare smiles. John loved it when he smiled.
John was tired, and wanted to get back to Baker Street. As he walked through the airport, he didn't notice that Sherlock was staring at him. When he raised his head to see if Harry was there, he saw something even better.
Instantly, John's whole demeanor changed. His back went ramrod straight, and he smiled, really smiled for the first time in 11 months. I'm going to walk over there calmly. Walk nice and slowly, nice and, oh sod it all. John broke into a run, duffel bag bouncing against his shoulder. Oh God, he had missed his flatmate so much. He had even missed finding body parts in the microwave, or fridge, or sugar bowl, or pretty much anywhere.
As John ran towards him, Sherlock opened his arms. The diminutive doctor ran into them, and the pair embraced. John pulled away a little, and looked up at his curly-haired companion. Sherlock smiled down at him. In that moment, both men could read exactly what the other was thinking.
"I think I might be in love with you." John whispered, a bit unnecessarily. Sherlock laughed his deep, baritone laugh. John closed his eyes and let that glorious sound wash over him. God, he had missed that sound. Sherlock pulled him back into his embrace, and replied, "The feelings are reciprocated."
By now, some of the airport-goers were staring at the two men. Some looked disgusted, while others looked on with a little smile on their face.
Again, John pulled away slightly. He reached up, and grabbed Sherlock's face in his hands. He then proceeded to pull that porcelain face down, until they were eye to eye. Then, he leaned in, and placed a delicate kiss on his flatmate's thin, pale lips. Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise, then purred, "I think now is a good time to go to Baker Street."
"Agreed." John replied, in exactly the same tone. Sherlock casually let his hands swing by his sides, until his golden-haired companion intertwined his short, tan fingers with his flatmate's long, pale ones. Together, they walked out of the airport. Just the two of them against the rest of the world.
