Okay guys. I finally got the next chapter out. It took a few read through's this time before I felt good about it.

Hope you enjoy!

And please let me know what you think!

Chapter Twelve

John was feeling so much better. He had been able to come off the prescription pain killers a couple of days ago so he was finally able to talk to people without sounding like a blithering idiot.

It seemed like everyone had come round for a visit.

Lestrade, Molly, Harry...even Shannon, whom he hadn't even taken out on a real date, had come when she had heard what had happened through the blog.

Apparently Sherlock had hacked into his blog account once again.

Speaking of Sherlock, he had been surprisingly helpful through all of this.

He hadn't left the flat unless absolutely necessary.

He hadn't taken a case or complained about being bored.

It had actually shocked John quite a bit.

John stretched from his spot in his chair, sighing in relief.

It seemed the slew of visitors had now died off. Not one had come so far today, and secretly John was sort of pleased.

The quiet was nice.

"John, I have been waiting for the opportunity to ask you something." Sherlock says suddenly into the quiet room, startling John, making him jump.

"Jesus, Sherlock! I hadn't even heard you walk into the room!" John complained, holding his chest for a moment.

"I gave you a fright. Sorry." Sherlock replied and John noticed that he was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

Confused as to what could be causing this, John opened his mouth about to ask him about it when Sherlock started talking again.

"I had wanted to wait until we could have this discussion in private given your usual aversion to the general public's opinion on said topic." Sherlock continues, talking much faster than he usually did when he wasn't firing off deductions.

"Sherlock, what are you onabout?" John asked, definitely confused now.

"It has come to my attention, John, that you are in fact….in love with me." Sherlock said, his lips moving awkwardly around the phrasing.

John's eyes shot up on reflex. Sherlock was standing rigidly and studying the carpet as if it held the answers of the universe.

John felt his heart stutter as a fierce panic surged throughout his body.

Oh god! He knows….

"No..." He hears himself say and it sounds strangled. Possibly because he was finding the mere action of taking air into his lungs was proving extremely difficult right now.

Sherlock looks up at that, his eyes sharply fixed on him and John is starting to feel dizzy now.

"Exactly two weeks and four days ago you lay, injured on that sofa and told me so." He says, pointing at said sofa.

John had to fight against the sudden urge to flee.

He needed to fix this.

Just make eye contact and stand firm.

"I was pretty drugged up then, Sherlock. You must have misunderstood." John says trying his best to sound casual. Sherlock just kept his eyes locked onto John without response.

"Look, It doesn't mean anything." John continues. "I...I love all my friends."

"All of your friends, right." Sherlock says immediately, his stare still piercing. "And I am your friend."

John lets out a relieved breath. It seemed as if Sherlock was buying it.

"Yes, you are."

Sherlock gives a tiny nod and John can finally breath better.

"Lestrade too, I suppose."

"Yeah." John answers a little more calm now. "Him too."

Sherlock nods again, walking to his chair and sitting down, his eyes finally leaving John.

John let out a relieved sigh.

Crisis averted.

He was just glad that he was off of the pain meds now. No telling what he would have given away next.

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments.

John wanted to get up and go into his room but he didn't want to look like he was guiltily fleeing.

He would wait a few minutes more and then excuse himself. That should be fine.

"Quite curious." Sherlock says suddenly into the quiet room causing John to look up again.

"What's that?" He asks, not knowing what Sherlock's referring to. Perhaps another of those article he's always reading from those science journals that John secretly finds absolutely boring.

Sherlock leans forward in his chair, his hands steepled together as he looks at John once more.

"Your explanation, John." He answers and John is frozen in shock. "I distinctly remember you informing me that you did not in fact love Lestrade." He says with a tilt of his head.

John tried to look away, tried to deny it but he was finding it difficult enough just to remain conscious through this second wave of panic.

"I asked you why you would make such a sacrifice for me and you carried on about friendship and such, but when I brought up Lestrade getting shot four months ago, you answered that you hadn't done the same for him because you didn't love him, which implies that you do love me. Further more, if it was of a platonic nature, there would have been no reason to differentiate between myself and Lestrade. You deliberately singled me out. The only conclusion being that you love me in a more romantic sense." Sherlock finishes and John can see even in his panicked haze that he is extremely uncomfortable, but that doesn't stop the sharp, knowing look he gives John.

"That, and I can read the signs in the tremble of your hands, the fact that your pulse has sky-rocketed and the guilt written plainly across your features." He finishes sitting back into his seat now but not breaking eye contact.

He knew.

There was no way John could lie himself out of it. Sherlock would see.

He saw everything.

"Sherlock-" John said, his voice sounding shaky even to him. "I never meant for you….I-" He stops. How did he even begin to explain this to someone like Sherlock.

"I must say, your odd behavior over the last month makes sense to me now." Sherlock comments, his gaze turning from John as he says it.

"I can….you know, leave..." John stutters out, looking down at his feet. "for a few days….or look for another flat, if you like." He says and it kills him to think of leaving, but surely Sherlock wouldn't want him around now that he knew.

"Why on earth would I like for you to move out?" Sherlock says sounding absolutely confused and John forces himself to look at him.

"Won't it feel...I don't know...strange? Living here with me….knowing?" He asks.

Sherlock rolls his eyes and fixes John with a look that distinctly screams that John is being an idiot.

"John, whatever feelings you have for me are irrelevant to our partnership and what we do. I have no 'feelings' on the matter. If you wish to stay, then by all means do not leave on my account."

John sits shocked, his mouth hanging open a moment before he rights himself.

Sherlock wasn't disgusted.

He still wanted him around.

"Alright." He answers quietly in relief.

Sherlock turns to meet his eyes once more with a furrowed brow.

"John….I feel I must reiterate that as flattering as your interest is, I am still very much married to my wor-"

"Oh God! Just….no, Sherlock. Don't." John interrupts, and he can feel his cheeks heating up from the sheer embarrassment of it all. "It's fine. It's all still fine."

"Good." Sherlock says after a moment.

John stands then.

"Right. I'm gonna just..." He starts before awkwardly turning away mid-sentence and making his way as fast as he can into his room.

Sherlock doesn't respond and John is grateful.

/

A week had passed since 'the incident' and everything was the same as it always was, save a little awkwardness on John's part.

Sherlock had taken to studying him more as if he were trying to find out if John were keeping any more secrets from him.

It was unnerving half the time.

The other half, it got embarrassing.

Having all of Sherlock's attention on him affected him in ways he'd rather not think about.

Sherlock had just received a call from Lestrade moments ago.

It seemed as if they had a case.

Nothing too strenuous.

John wasn't at one hundred percent yet, but a case was just what they needed, what he needed to feel normal again.

Young women were being taken. There had been three so far. The last place they had been seen was a club called Euphoria.

All of the women fit the same category.

All of them had arrived alone. They all had long, dark hair. And they had all been seen talking to a tall man that the bartender had never seen before a couple of weeks ago.

John and Sherlock had decided to visit the club when it opened. The bartender had offered to point the man out to them when he noticed him.

That had been four hours ago.

"Sherlock, I don't think he's coming tonight." John said, more than a little bored.

"No. It would seem he's not." Sherlock answered slightly disappointed.

"Sorry guys." The bar tender said walking over with two beers. "On the house." He says with a smile.

"Thanks, mate." John replies, picking up his drink before looking at Sherlock's frowning face. "Oh. Come on. Drink. You'll look rude otherwise." Sherlock gave him a scathing look but picked up his drink as well.

One drink had somehow turned into two, then beer being replaced by whiskey and before long, John had lost count of how much either of them had drank.

He didn't feel to out of it. Just pleasantly drunk.

Sherlock, on the other hand, being a complete light weight had gotten himself well beyond pissed.

When he starts in on his fourth rant, this about the utter importance of the human thumb, John decides they should call it a night and pry's Sherlock from his stool and hails them a cab back to baker street.

Sherlock points towards the sofa when they get in, so John deposits Sherlock onto it and says goodnight.

"You can't leave me in this state, John." Sherlock complains, slurring his words. "I need tea...and biscuits."

John turns towards the kitchen with a sigh and gets the kettle on.

"The ones in the blue packaging, John. Not those other dreadful ones." Sherlock calls lazily.

"Alright. I hear you." John says plating a few of the biscuits and placing them and the tea onto a tray.

He puts the tray down on the coffee table before turning once more towards his room.

"You're leaving?" Sherlock asks giving a pout as he slumps down into the sofa with his mug.

John is tired but he turns and takes a seat next to Sherlock, grabbing the remote and flicking through the channels until he finds a documentary about bears and leaves it.

John likes bears. They're interesting and he doesn't care if Sherlock complains this time.

If he's having to sit out here to baby sit Sherlock, he is going to watch something that he likes for a change.

After about a half hour in John huffs loudly.

Sherlock's been staring at him the entire time and he's not even tried to hide the fact.

He had even turned his body to the side, leg propped underneath him so that he could no doubt do so comfortably.

After another minute, John gives up and turns they telly off.

He's about to take himself to bed when Sherlock finally speaks.

"You're agitated." Sherlock comments lazily.

"I applaud your deductive skills." John answers sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

"I like it." Sherlock says after a moment and John looks at him incredulously.

"You like when I'm agitated?" John asks with a frown.

"No." Sherlock says with a small shake of his head. "I like that you love me."

"Sherlock-" John says in warning. Sherlock is drunk and John is much too tired for this, but Sherlock continues.

"No one has ever loved me. I never thought anyone would. The fact that someone like you would love someone like me…..I don't deserve it, probably." He says low a just a little bit slurred. John can see the vulnerability in his eyes, hurt even.

Sober, Sherlock was unbreakable….like a machine as far as emotions went. This was new and John felt his heart ache for the other man.

How long had he thought this way about himself?

Had there really never been anyone to tell him otherwise?

"Now you listen here, Sherlock. You are the best man I've ever known. You are smart and kind and brave and you're absolutely insane. You sometimes drive me round the bend but I love it all, Sherlock.

You saved my life when you brought me into yours. No one could deserve my love more." He says, meaning every word.

He can see the surprise on Sherlock's face. See when his words finally register and his look of surprise turns into a small genuine smile.

"John…..Thank you." He says so quietly and John can't help but smile.

"You're not supposed to thank people for loving you. You just accept it and return it in some cases."

John see's the exact moment when his words sink in and he regrets having said them immediately.

"No. I didn't mean-" He tries, hating the pained expression on his friends face. "I know know you don't, or can't love me back, Sherlock. It's okay."

Sherlock nods and stands slowly, swaying a moment before he steadies himself.

"I think I may retire for the night."

"Yeah. Good idea." John says, standing as well, leaving for his room first.

/

It ended up taking them two more nights before they had caught the kidnapper.

All of the women were now alive and home with their families.

John nor Sherlock had brought up the talk they had had the other night and John was thankful for it.

It was hard enough to lock away his feelings, keep them at bay.

If they were going to be discussing it regularly, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Especially now that John knew that at least a part of Sherlock actually liked the fact that John was in love with him.

That in part was one of the reasons he had so readily agreed when Shannon had called earlier that day to set up a date.

They were going to meet at one of John's favorite restaurants tonight.

John knew that they were doing this whole thing backwards, having already slept together, but he liked her. She was beautiful and sweet.

He should give this a chance.

It would take some time, but he needed to put an end to these feelings he had for Sherlock.

Shannon seemed like a good distraction and he could easily see her becoming more than that one day.

It was just after seven and John had emerged from his room dressed in one of his best jumpers, one that Sherlock had once told him was not as hideous as what he usual wore. He had taken it as a compliment.

He had just stepped onto the bottom step when he caught sight of Sherlock.

As soon as they met eyes, Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"What?" John asked, a little annoyed, though he was unsure why.

"Why are you going out with that woman?" Sherlock asks without looking back to him.

"Because I like her, Sherlock. That's what people do." He says a little forceful.

"My understanding is that people date to fall in love. You are already in love with me, therefore I do not see the reasoning behind you wasting valuable time that could be spent on much more productive things, with dating." Sherlock says indifferently as he flips through a magazine.

John can feel his anger flare.

"So, what? I'm to sit at home pining for you?" He says with a raised voice, his fists clenching at his sides. "Sit in my chair waiting for the next case so that I can follow you around like some bloody groupie while you solve murders?"

"So glad to see that you grasp the importance of your part in our work." Sherlock answers and John knows he's being sarcastic but he can't control the words as they fly out of his mouth angrily.

"My part?" He yells because he can't not. Not anymore. "Has it occurred to you with all your infinite knowledge that I don't want to be in love with you?!" Sherlock has closed the magazine and is looking at John a little shocked now. John tries to stop at this. He really does, but the words come flowing out of him.

"Maybe I don't want to be tied to someone who is incapable of feeling or showing even the slightest bit of sentiment! Maybe I want someone who can love me back!"

John turns, running out of the door. He hears Sherlock calling his name, but he keeps going.

/

The next morning finds John in the kitchen making tea. Sherlock is concentrating on whatever he's studying under his microscope and hadn't even greeted John when he came in.

John had contemplated leaving his room at all, not wanting to talk to Sherlock at all but it was looking like that wouldn't be a problem.

That was until John had set a cup of tea beside him. He hadn't meant to at all. He was still pissed. It had been a reflex, really.

Sherlock had taken it as a que to speak, however, and John found just the sound of his voice grated on his nerves at the moment.

"John...I owe you an apology." He says and John knows he's trying, but it does little to appease his anger. "I believe I may have worded some things I said last night wrongly."

"Oh? So you don't want to keep me here as your personal cheerleader?" John snaps back.

"I believe Molly has that job already." Sherlock tries for humor before wincing slightly. "Sorry. That was a bit not good, right?"

John looks to his friend finally, the way his shoulders are curled in on himself and he can feel some of his anger drain away.

That is until Sherlock opens his mouth again.

"What you said was wrong." He says and John feels his anger come to the surface full force.

"Oh, really? Please, Sherlock, enlighten me as to how anything I said was wrong!"

"You said I was incapable of feeling any sentiment towards you. That is not true" Sherlock says and John is shocked to see a tinge of pink blossom across his cheeks.

"What does that mean?" John asks, his mind running through so many possibilities, all of them seeming impossible. "Are you….do you-"

"I...care for you a great deal, John." Sherlock says meeting his eyes earnestly. "You are invaluable as a partner….and as a friend."

"Right." John answers feeling a wave of disappointment he had no business feeling, but trying his best to shake it off.

"I'm glad that we've discussed this, Sherlock. Now I don't feel like I have to hide the fact that I'm taking Shannon out again tonight." He says trying for a smile.

But Sherlock frowns.

"What? Still?"

"What do you mean still?" John asks, the beginnings of irritation seeping in once again.

Sherlock's frown grows as he throws his hands up in the air.

"I've just told you that I care for you. That was your hang up about being 'in love' with me, was it not? That I felt nothing for you? Well, now you know that I do, yet you still insist on dating."

"Oh my God!" John shout's his hands mimicking Sherlock's. "You are never going to get it, are you?" He says at the confused look on Sherlock's face.

Taking a deep breath he tries to calm his anger and remember who he's dealing with. Sherlock had the emotional maturity of a toddler, after all.

"Look, I'm happy that you care Sherlock. Really, I am. But the kind of love I'm looking for is different." He says trying to get Sherlock to understand but Sherlock turned away irritated.

"What does it matter anyway? You'll go through the motions, wasting both our time. Eventually she'll break things off with you as soon as you've canceled one to many dates with her to be with me." He snips out with narrowed eyes. "Really, the repetition is quite tedious."

John turns on his heel. He has to get out of here.

He has to not look at Sherlock's face right now.

"Where are you going?!" Sherlock asks sounding put out and John has to work to keep his fists in place by his sides.

"I'm getting out of here before I break your nose." He says low and threatening before slamming the door behind him.