A/N: No clue how many more chapters I'm going to do. Quite a few I imagine. I see a lot of speed bumps in Sherlock and John's future. Oh, and fucking. Don't forget the fucking.

I think this chapter is a little reminiscent of Sherlock's breakdown in Hound of the Baskerville.

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Sherlock couldn't believe he up and kissed John in the middle of the street like that. What if someone had seen? He'd built up a very firm reputation of being a cold, slightly frightening sociopath, and it would all come tumbling down around him if someone like Anderson caught even a whiff of sentiment from him. He couldn't do that again. It didn't matter what he may feel for John—doing anything was not a good idea. It was bad for his reputation, bad for the work.

He liked that. As an excuse, it was a good one. But it was an excuse, and not at all what he really wanted.

They rode home silently, and it wasn't until they were safely back in 221 B that John, in true John fashion, addressed the situation while Sherlock wanted to pretend it hadn't happened. "You kissed me."

"Yes. I apologize."

Unbelievable. The man was truly unbelievable. "Don't apologize, Sherlock. Do it again!"

Sherlock blinked at him. "Let's look at this logically. You don't want to be accused of being homosexual and I certainly can't afford to be seen as a man of feeling, so the smart thing to do would be to drop any form of physical intimacy."

"In public you mean."

"In general."

"Don't do that!" John exclaimed. "Stop rejecting me, Sherlock. I'm getting sick of it."

"Well I'm getting sick of you pawing all over me, making me feel things I don't particularly want to feel, all because you and your normal hormones can't control themselves, and now I can't control myself either. Do you think I kissed you because it was the logical thing to do? Logic is gone out the window, John. It doesn't exist! That is so maddening to me. I love you, but you're changing me and I don't like it."

Normally John would fight back, but he stood silent. And slowly, he began to smile. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Sherlock demanded, fed up with the whole thing.

"You have changed," John said. Sherlock loved him. He admitted it, to John's face. Everything was fine, better than fine, except Sherlock seemed...miserable.

"I know and it's terrible," Sherlock fell onto the couch, moping. "I've been reduced to the same hormonal and emotional responses of you underdeveloped neanderthals. I'm a mess."

"I think that's a little hyperbolic," John offered. He was fully aware that Sherlock was going through some irrational identity crisis the required an exact amount of attention, so he did his best to suppress the disappointment that he felt at the realization that Sherlock considered love—for him—a weakness. "Sherlock, there's nothing wrong with being a little human."

"But I'm supposed to be more."

John sighed. "You are so incredibly full of yourself."

"I know. Do you think I care?"

"You could consider my feelings for once."

"Your feelings? Yes, I've been battling with them for months now. I have considered and accepted them, and they drive me crazy."

"That's not what I meant. I mean that it hurts when you keep rejecting me. I know you don't really want to. So what is so wrong with giving in to your emotions and just being happy with me?"

"I'm more-

"You are not more evolved," John interrupted before Sherlock could say it. "You've got a funny brain, but stop thinking that you are the most clever person on earth because you know its not true. Stop being so immature."

"I like being the way that I am. I don't want to change."

"If you liked it so much, you wouldn't be changing."

Sherlock stared at him, then leaned back and closed his eyes. "I don't know what to do, John."

John sat down next to him and put a hand on his leg. "I wouldn't mind hearing you say you loved me again."

"I love you. Don't get used to hearing it."

"I love you too."

"What do we do?"

"What we've been doing. I'm happy with what we have. I would be happy with more too, but what we have is nice. And anything...more...that you may want to do, it stays between us, within these walls, until you say otherwise. I see nothing wrong with being...discreet."

"Thank you John."

Sherlock placed his hand over John's on his leg and they sat there together in silence.