John ran. Ran like him and Sherlock always ran, he wasn't crying any more, his body was simply racked with pure anger. But in the bottom of his heart he'd been expecting it. It had only been a matter of time before 'The Woman' was back in their life again and Sherlock had reacted just as John had expected him to, because Irene Adler was the only person who could match Sherlock's intelligence and John had been a fool to assume that Sherlock would choose him over her.

He stopped running, he'd reached the park. He had nowhere to go, except to Sarah's, but he felt racked with guilt about going back there. He'd left her when he realised how strong his feelings were. And he wasn't going back to her now. Then, he realised his limp was back, he slowed his pace to a walk, cursing himself for letting himself become sentimental about Sherlock Fucking Holmes.

John sat down on a bench, breathing heavily, before he realised he had a message on his phone. He fished it out of his pocket and consulted the screen.

'Sorry. Come back before I come looking for you? SH'

John ignored it, and put his phone away, crossing his arms defensively across his chest. He wondered how long it would take Sherlock to tear himself away from Irene and come looking for him, he didn't give it any less than 20 minutes.

So 10 minutes later, he was surprised when Sherlock came strolling up to him, his curls matted and tangled by the wind, his face expressionless, but his eyes were burning, if John wasn't a logical man, he would have said sparks could have flown out of them.

'Nice time with ms adler?' John said, examining his feet.

'It wasn't how it looked. She is a snake, she suffocates people. She knows how to make them dance for her' Sherlock said, sitting down beside John.

'Oh yeah. And she made you dance by jumping into bed with you' John asked sarcastically.

'No' said Sherlock coldly. 'She threatened you. Well no, she threatened us, but she can't hurt me'

'How?' asked John, finally looking up at Sherlock.

'Pictures. Of us. That could threaten your army career if you ever wanted to go back. I don't care what the world thinks of me. But I can see in your face that you care what people think'

'This relationship we have is weird enough as it is' John said grumpily 'What is she, your bit on the side?'

'She means NOTHING to me' said Sherlock steadily.

'And what about me? Is all this some kind of experiment' John asked, he hated doing this but he was hurting and projecting some of it onto Sherlock made him feel a little better.

'No' said Sherlock, emotion showing in his face for the first time. He pulled John's face closer to him and locked their mouths together, John tried to fight it, tried to stay angry but he couldn't do it, he sighed and let himself melt into the kiss.

Sherlock pulled away momentarily and looked at John.

'I don't know what love is meant to feel like. But I'd hazard a guess that it might be...' He began before John interrupted him by kissing him softly.

'You know what you're meant to say' he said after a moment. 'So try it again' He could barely suppress a grin as he watched Sherlock frown furiously.

'I love you John' he said slowly, but with a tenderness which made John absolutely sure he was serious.

'Well done,' John breathed in his ear. 'I love you too'

And then they were kissing more passionately than ever, not caring who was watching. Neither of them wanted it to end, but John broke the kiss with a small smile.

'You're still in trouble you know' he said, winding an arm round Sherlock's waist. 'About that woman in our flat.'

'I know' Sherlock said, looking sheepish. 'Let's go and deal with this little problem'.

John didn't particularly want to go and confront The Woman. He would have been more than happy to just curl up on the park bench with Sherlock all day. And just be together. Sherlock Holmes actually loved him. The man who was a self declared sociopath actually admitted he had feelings.

'John' said Sherlock sharply, snapping his fingers in front of John's face. 'Now. Hurry up.'

John sighed, he knew he'd have to put up with a lot of grumpy Sherlock to see a little bit of 'his' Sherlock and that was fine by him, the other side of Sherlock was worth it.

He realised, to his surprise that the psychosomatic pain in his leg had vanished now he was close to Sherlock again. They could have easily walked back to Baker Street but Sherlock insisted they take a cab, and the mood he was in at the moment, John thought it best not to argue with him.

Sherlock pushed the door of 221B open and strode into the room, John only a couple of steps behind him, to find Irene still seated on the couch, a knowing smile playing about her lips, her legs crossed as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

'Get out' said Sherlock coldly. 'Take your pictures and get out of my flat. Your little game is up'

He was glaring at her so viciously, that it made John eternally grateful that he was never on the receiving end of Sherlock's anger.

'You'll get yourself into trouble one of these days, without my help' she said, standing up and facing the two men. John's overwhelming instinct was to physically remove her from the room.

'Alone protects me' she said, not taking her eyes from Sherlock's face. 'You'll get hurt you know. He'll just go running back to her, the little...'

'Shut up' said John, his fists shaking. 'Shut up and get out. I don't care what you think. Just leave us alone'

'Your little pet obviously doesn't want me here' she said cooly. She walked to the door and yanked it open, her eyes still not leaving Sherlock's. 'But,' she paused, leaning against the doorframe. 'Moriaty. He could have some fun with this. Bye boys' She slammed the door, and vanished from sight.

'Thank god she's gone' John said, standing very close to Sherlock and snaking his arm round his waist. 'Are you okay?'

'What?' Said Sherlock, kissing John's hair absently, he was obviously thinking of something important. 'Yes. No. Was she right? Am I going to get hurt?'

John gaped at him.

'I love you' he said simply. 'That should explain it.

'I know.' said Sherlock, snapping out of his thoughts. 'I'm sorry. I'm still not used to this.'

He took a look at John and then slapped his forehead in frustration.

'Your nightmare. You didn't sleep well. Go to bed' he said, his voice full of compassion. 'No I mean it John, please, you need to sleep.'

'And what are you going to do?' John asked, stifling a yawn.

'Read. Let Lestrade know Irene's with Moriaty and check on you' he said, 'Seriously. Go.'