A/N: Very short blurb. Will have an accompanying chapter up tomorrow. (writing it now)
"I love you," John said to the back of Sherlock's head. Sherlock was bent over his microscope in the kitchen, the table littered with containers of dirt. He did not react, gone in that space in his head that had no room for anyone else.
John flushed at his own stupidity. God, he was a real idiot. Spending every day of his life mooning and agonizing over a man who forgot he was even there on a regular basis. He just needed to accept it—Sherlock was never going to want him. While he took John's advances with a grudging acceptance, John knew it wasn't what Sherlock wanted. On the day that Sherlock Holmes admitted a need or want for human contact the earth would stop rotating 'round the sun and the apocalypse would commence.
John knew this, and he didn't care. No matter what, when that apocalyptic day came, he would still be there for him.
John kissed the back of Sherlock's exposed neck and left to work a shift at the surgery.
