Chapter IV | Starting Over

Sherlock's eyes fluttered open when light started to sprinkle through the stained glass of the bay window. It almost made his eyes hurt. The dark haired man turned his head towards the doctor that was sleeping in the chair. He hadn't been there when Sherlock passed out. He silently wondered how long he had been there.

Still watching me sleep John?

Because you're worried about me?

Or…

Worried that I'll vanish it you don't watch?

I'm not leaving.

Not again.

Tossing the thought away, Sherlock pushed himself up from the couch and groaned a little. His back kinda hurt from lying there for so long. Looking over, his placed his hands on his knees and watched John sleep. At least he looked somewhat peaceful. Maybe he could surprise him with some breakfast. Pulling himself up from the couch he groaned a little as his head spun from not only the hangover he had from getting high the night before, but the sudden pain he felt in his face from where John had hit him. Man that still hurt. Considering John probably busted his nose. He took the blanket that he had slept with and gently laid it over John, brushing some of the soft hair out of his face. He watched the blond sleep, just for a moment before heading into the kitchen. He had to use the wall to get into the kitchen. But he managed. Looking through John's fridge, he pulled out eggs and bacon for them. He could tell just by looking at him that he had lost a lot of weight. John and he could work on getting better together. He took out some pans and started to cook some breakfast for them. He would lean out the doorway every now and then to see if John was still sleeping. He hadn't even moved yet. Going back into the kitchen to cook.

He plated the food for both of them and grabbed a fork. "John?" He said walking into the room with the plate, gently shaking his shoulder. The blond started to open his eyes looking up at him. "Sherlock…? You're still here?" He said sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "And you cooked? Okay I'm dreaming. I know it now. You never cook. I didn't even know you could cook." Sherlock just smiled and handed him the plate. "Shut up and eat, you weirdo." He said as John took the plate in his hands. He watched as Sherlock went back into the kitchen.

What's he trying to do?

Just like that.

He comes back and we just what?

Start over?

The detective came back with his own plate and smiled over at the former doctor. "Is it okay John?" He asked as he moved to sit down on the couch that he had been sleeping on the night before. John blinked and looking down at his plate. He took a bite of the food on his plate and a smile came to his lips. "Sherlock. This is really good. But… why did you do it?" He asked looking at him with a curious face. Sherlock's face went unreadable. "I want to start over, John." He muttered softly, keeping pale eyes on his plate. "Can we do that John?" He asked moving his eyes up to the doctor's face. His blue eyes were on the food, and they didn't move as he though the words over in his head.

Could they start over?

Really start over?

Be together?

"Sherlock, when you say start over what do you mean? Friends? Flat-mates? What is it you want?" He asked looking at him, a twinge of anger coming in his voice as blue eyes grabbing hold of those pale green eyes. "More, John. You and I both know that there's more there than just friendship." John put his plate down on the table and looked at him, leaning forward. "Is there, Sherlock? After you bloody left me?! All alone! For three fucking years, Sherlock! Don't you dare sit there and tell me that you lov-…" A gasp came from John as the black haired name moved over to him. He looked up at the tall man hovering above him as he gently gripped his face. "John. Before you damn me, please listen to me. I want to tell you why I did what I did. John." He leaned in and pressed his lips against the blond's who made a small noise and looked up at him. "I did it because, even though… I am the least emotive and non-sexual being in the cosmos, but, John. I love you. More than anything. Moriarty gave me an ultimatum. Either I die, or he kills every person I hold dear. That's you, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. But John, it's mostly you. I've never felt this way for any person. Not ever. Since the moment I've met you, I've been attracted to you. I've wanted you. I've…John I need you." John couldn't believe his ears. He felt a twang of guilt rise in his chest as Sherlock moved down to his knees so he was close to him. "And I broke your nose… Sherlock, I'm so sorry. I… I didn't even give you a chance to explain." Sherlock gave him a sad smile as his hand rubbed over John's soft skin. "I deserved it. Really I did." John moved against and wrapped his arms around his neck and held him there.

It's hard to believe.

That Sherlock…

Loves me.

That he told me he loved me.

And that I…

Love him back.

"John." His voice was soft as the blond carded his fingers through Sherlock's dark wavy mass. "Can we then? Start over?" He muttered as he looked up at John, giving his lips a soft kiss. John felt like his breath had just been stolen from him for a moment before giving Sherlock a small smile. "You have to ask me the right way." He said looking down at those pale green eyes. "Ask me the right way and I'll say yes." Sherlock looked up and kissed him. "John Watson. Be mine?" John chuckled and smirked at him, taking his face in his hands. Lips pressing his against the other's. For the first time, kissing him first.

"I'm your's."

This is us.

Starting over.