His heart made a jump in surprise.

A wave of warmth gently ran through his body and he felt his muscles relax.

His stomach was doing funny things, like he was taking a ride on the london eye and was 443 feet above the ground.

Sherlocks lips were surprisingly soft. His warm breath mingling with his own.

Before he knew it he had wound his arms around Sherlocks neck, burying a hand in his ink-black hair.

Pulling him closer he intensified the kiss, wanting to savour his taste.

So they sat for a few moments - minutes - hours? John had lost track of time and he didn´t care a bit.

Finally they slowly drifted apart. John had his eyes still closed, not wanting this moment to come to an end.

When he opened them dreamily, Sherlock was looking at him, his face only inches away.

There was curiousity sparkling in his blue eyes.

His skin nearly glowed in the pale moonlight entering through the window.

God, how beautiful he was!

"You enjoyed that." A mischievous statement from Sherlock.

John was speechless, his breath still coming short.

"And you´re shivering.", Sherlock continued.

It was true. His hands were shaking, as was his whole body. And it had nothing to do with the time in Afghanistan.

He was giddy with sensation, like a schoolgirl falling in love for the first time. What an embarassing thought.

He was a grown man after all. But it was new to him. Kissing a man...

He smiled. "Yes I did."

Then suddenly reality kicked in again and his smile faded.

"So where does this put us?"

"I guess you´re not moving out." Sherlock smiled a little.

"That´s not what I meant."

All of a sudden the small kitchen seemed incredibly stifling to John.

The silence that followed his comment was bone-crushing.

After what seemed like an eternity Sherlock answered his question with a simple "Wherever you want."

Wherever he wanted...

John bent forward and passionately invaded Sherlocks lips again. This time he explored every inch of his mouth with his tongue.

Without breaking the kiss he glided off the chair, so now both of them were sitting on the kitchen floor.

His arms went round Sherlocks waist and he pressed himself tight to his chest.

When Sherlock left the choice to him, choosing was what he would do.

He shoved aside all the questions that were forming in his mind. Like if Sherlock was even able to feel something like love...

Right now he just wanted him close. He was tired of talking and worrying. He´d had too much of that tonight. Tomorrow was another day.

One hand went under Sherlocks T-Shirt, stroking the soft skin, the other was tousling his hair.

Abruptly John was being lifted up so he was sitting in Sherlocks lap.

Then there was a hand in Johns pants, wandering deeper. It sent shivers down his spine and he couldn´t repress a surprised moan.

Sherlocks smile was wicked.

John felt passion rising even more in his body. He was getting hard.

He tugged at the detectives T-Shirt to get it off him, pressing his lips to every inch of exposed skin.

His mind went dizzy with sensation.

Sherlocks hand in his trousers began to move slowly - sensual.

His moves weren´t very passionate, but precise. And what he did was oh so good.

John was panting. Sherlock still wore that naughty smile.

He seemed to enjoy the reactions John showed to his actions.

The doctor clung tight to the detective, arms round his chest, head pressed to his neck.

He could feel the blood pulsing in his ears. He was almost over the edge.

With a final moan he was done, and the silence returned to the nocturnal kitchen.

He shivered and breathed heavily while Sherlock put a comforting hand on his back.