John returned to the hotel a bit later, after he'd made his excuses to Arthur, Douglas and Martin. As he climbed the beautiful front staircase of the hotel, he felt his whole body tense up. He had absolutely no idea what was going to happen when he got to his room and the thought put him on edge. So Sherlock had orchestrated the whole thing but what was his master plan? What could he possibly want?

John had always assumed something like this would never be an issue. John fancied men and women while Sherlock didn't fancy either. In the year they'd lived together, John had never seen Sherlock show interest in anyone that wasn't dead. Even then it wasn't sexual desire that fueled his interest (or at least John hoped it wasn't) but the intriguing idea of solving a murder.

John got to their room and realized he did not have a key. He thumped his head against the door, preparing to knock. He didn't have time to as the door flung open. John fell into the room and straight against Sherlock. He must have been standing close to the door waiting in order to answer it that quickly. Sherlock had his arms around John, holding him up. John pushed him away and straightened himself out.

John turned around and closed the door. When he turned back around, Sherlock was advancing, his lips pursed. "What the hell are you doing?" John asked, side stepping out of the way.

"What you asked." Sherlock said, looking puzzled.

"Oh Jesus." John said rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. He'd have to wake up from this nightmare soon.

He felt breath on his face and his eyes snapped open. Sherlock's lips were barely an inch from his and his hands were placed on the wall, trapping John in. He quickly ducked down before Sherlock's mouth could make contact and slipped under his arm. It didn't seem to deter Sherlock at all. He continued coming towards John.

John was backed up against the bed and that was the last place he wanted to be. He scrambled across it, messing up the expensive blue duvet as he went. "Sherlock, will you knock it off?" John yelled angrily when he'd reached the safety of the other side and there was some space between them.

"You asked me to kiss you." Sherlock reminded him.

"For fuck's sake Sherlock, it was a test. I was trying to prove a point. I didn't mean for you to chase me around the room like a lion after its prey." John knew he had to squash this, whatever it was, as quickly and cleanly as possible.

"What point?" Sherlock asked, the corners of his lips turning down.

"Look, I don't know what's going on in that head of yours, but I do know that you don't want to kiss me."

"How could you possibly know a thing like that?"

"One year Sherlock. We've been living together for almost a year—"

"—Exactly a year." Sherlock interjected.

"What?"

"Yesterday made it exactly a year. It's why I wanted to be in Paris by last night. It was our anniversary." Sherlock gave John a small smile.

"Sherlock, anniversaries are for couples. We're not a couple, you get that don't you?" John asked, worried. What exactly did Sherlock think was the nature of their relationship?

"We could be if you would stop being so difficult."

"I'm being, what are you, you've got…" John's mouth gaped open, unable to comprehend what was happening. He closed his eyes and did his best to compose himself.

"John." Sherlock said softly, his hands resting on John's chest. He hadn't even heard Sherlock cross the room. John made a mental note to stop closing his eyes when he was alone with Sherlock. "Is your only objection to our being together the fact that you're under the impression I don't want you?"

"You don't want me Sherlock." John shook his head. Sherlock didn't want anybody, not in that way.

"Wrong." Sherlock said leaning in and gently pressing his lips to John's.

"Stop." John said jerking his head away. "Just stop tormenting me."

"I would have thought it was the other way around." Sherlock said moving in for another kiss. John grabbed a fistful of Sherlock's hair and yanked him back.

"Fine Sherlock, if yesterday was our one year anniversary then let me remind you what today is the anniversary of. One year ago today you told me you were married to your work."

"I did say that, yes." Sherlock agreed.

"And…?" John asked, needing more than that. He tugged on Sherlock's curls just a bit and the man winced in response from the pain.

"And then things changed."

"When?"

"When I asked you out."

"What? You never—"

"Don't be stupid John, of course I did."

John racked his brain but couldn't think of a single time Sherlock had asked him out. He would have known, of course he would have. Unless Sherlock had done it while he was sleeping.

"The Chinese circus case?" Sherlock said in an attempt to refresh John's memory. "I believe you called it The Blind Banker in your ridiculous blog. You came home from your job interview mooning over Sarah and I felt our relationship was threatened. So I took it upon myself to ask you out. You hadn't exactly been subtle about your interest in me, you've got such an expressive face." Sherlock reached up and traced his finger down John's cheek. "Also your bedroom walls are not as thick as you think they are."

"Back to the point." John said giving Sherlock's hair another tug.

"Yes so I figured if I became a viable option, you wouldn't need to see Sarah. But I was caught up in the case; I didn't react quickly enough. You'd already made plans with her."

"Jesus Sherlock, that was forever ago. I'm not even seeing anyone now so why start this back up."

"You still go on dates often enough and that means there's potential for there to be someone else. I can't allow that to happen."

"And you decided to what, offer yourself to me? Fuck, Sherlock don't you see how wrong that is?" John asked, completely appalled with Sherlock's logic. John had been right, Sherlock didn't want him, he just didn't want him to be with anyone else So he was offering up his body as if it were nothing.

"You require physical stimulation, I require you. It was a logical conclusion." Sherlock shrugged.

"So you're just going to whore yourself out to me whenever I want." John asked wondering how Sherlock could possibly think this was ok. How could he not see how twisted this was?

"John, I'm not a blushing virgin. It's true I don't obsess over sex the way most people seem to but as I told you earlier, I am a man who is capable of desire. Sex is not high on my list of priorities but perhaps with you the concept would not be quite so…unappealing."

"High praise indeed." John rolled his eyes.

"Good, now can we get on with it?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"I'm not going to shag you." John put it plainly, hoping he might understand.

"Why not?"

"Because you don't want me to! How could you possibly think I'd be ok with this? It's not right Sherlock."

"John, I—"

"You knew how I felt. You probably knew from day one. To offer me this when you don't reciprocate those feelings, it's cruel Sherlock. It's cruel even for you."

John dropped his hands from Sherlock's hair and stepped around him. When he was a safe distance away, with his back to Sherlock and his piercing eyes, he spoke. This time was softer even though he was still seething. "I never asked for this. I hoped for it but I never would have asked. I wouldn't have wanted to make you uncomfortable or risk our friendship. I was fine with the way things were. God you already had such a large part of me. You would text me and I would be on the other side of London but I would still come running. I put you ahead of everything. You were the most important thing in my life."

"Why did you say that in the past tense?" Sherlock asked sounding concerned.

"We can't continue on as were, not after this. I can't worry that you'll pull this again every time I date someone. This changed everything." John said with a sigh.

"It was supposed to." Sherlock replied moving so they were face to face again. Why did he have to look so impossibly gorgeous? John congratulated himself on his self-control. "John, let me kiss you. Let me show you that I want you."

Sherlock put his hand on John's chest and then began to trail down, his fingers spread as he eased down John's front. His hand shot out and grabbed Sherlock by the wrist, removing his hand. "Stop it."

"Why are you fighting me on this?" Sherlock growled in frustration. "John, I do not think so little of myself that I would forfeit my body just to appease you. I did not come to this decision lightly, as you can tell by the amount of planning it took just to get you here."

Sherlock grabbed either side of John's face and gently pushed him down so he was sitting on the arm of the sofa. Sherlock was towering over him and kept his hand on John's face so he couldn't look away.

"About a month ago, I heard you." Sherlock started.

"Heard what?" John asked nervously. He pulled his lips in between his teeth and bit down, waiting for the penny to drop.

Sherlock swallowed and shifted his weight a bit, keeping his hands firmly on John's face. "I went to your bedroom to ask you a question. I was about to knock when I heard you inside. You were breathing loudly and every once in awhile I could hear some profanity. It took me longer than I'd like to admit to realize you were masturbating."

John's eyes darted down, unable to meet Sherlock's gaze anymore. The thought of Sherlock listening to him knock one out was embarrassing beyond measure.

Sherlock sank to his knees in front of John, forcing him to look at him. "And then you said my name. The sound echoed in my head for days and I couldn't understand why. I masturbated myself, trying to figure it out, the sound of your voice saying my name still rolling around in my brain as I did so. It wasn't until I said your name as I climaxed that I understood. I wanted to be in that room with you, hear you say my name like that again. More than that I wanted to make you say my name like that, to be the cause of it. I wanted you. I do want you."

John's breath was shaky as he forced himself to exhale the air he'd been holding in. Sherlock's thumb was caressing his cheek and for a moment he closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling. There was so much to process, so much to consider. Sherlock had just dumped a lot of information and John needed to think. But he couldn't think with Sherlock staring at him, a look of expectation on his face. John needed to think things through without Sherlock there. He needed to get away, to sort things out.

He pulled away from Sherlock's grasp and headed for the door. "Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, confused.

"I need some air." Was all John replied as he bolted out the door.

The doorman of the hotel flagged him down a cab. He sat with his eyes closed and his head resting on the back of the seat. He made a quick stop at a liquor store to buy a bottle before going to his planned destination. Mary's Hotel wasn't as terrible as he had been expecting. From what the cabin crew had said, John was expecting it to be a rundown place that you could barely stand to be in. It wasn't as nice as his hotel but then he figured very few places were.

He walked up to the receptionist who greeted him with a smile. "Hello sir, how can I help you?"

"Do you have a Martin Crieff staying here?"