Caring. A chemical defect often found in the losing side.

Love. An undeniable strength that now resided in a small unassuming flat on Baker Street. 221b Baker Street, to be exact. To be more exact, in John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

Despite popular belief, when Sherlock and John had finally admitted that they were truly mad for each other it didn't lead to an emotional explosion of love and rough sex. Not at all. It was a hesitant moment of weakness for both of them. They broke down all their walls and presented themselves in a sweet moment on vulnerability.

Sherlock stood in the doorway and fidgeted. He had been watching John faff about the flat getting ready for another mundane date. Just one more faceless nameless girl to try to distract him from the crazy detective, but Sherlock didn't see it that way. Every time John went on a date he took it as a personal blow. As though the world was just showing him all the woman John prefers over him. Why couldn't he be the one John preferred? Why couldn't he be the one John came home late with? Why?

'Ill be home late tonight, Sherlock' John sighed. 'Don't stay up for me. If you're even planning on sleeping.'

'John, wait. I don't want you to go.' Sherlock bit his tongue. It was just too hard to see John scamper off with some one else anymore. Sherlock wanted John to scamper off with him. John turned away from the door to face Sherlock.

'What for? We don't have a case.'

'Yes. I know.'

'Im not skipping on my date to entertain you.'

'Yes. I know.'

'So why don't you want me to go?'

'Because you shouldn't go on a date with her.'

'What the hell, Sherlock? I can date who I please. The world doesn't revolve around you! You don't dictate who I choose to see.' John huffed. Normally he wasn't so easily hot-tempered, but he was tired of Sherlock antics. Every time he left to go on a date to forget the sociopath, Sherlock showed up and ruined it. The worst part was he wasn't upset with Sherlock for ruining it. John was mad that he was excited -even elated- when Sherlock came swooping in to end his petty date.

'No, John. I don't mean that I disapprove of her. Well, actually I do, but not for the reason you believe.' Sherlock absentmindedly played with his cuffs.

'Oh, really? So, go on. Tell me I'm wrong.'

'John, please. Try to understand. I'm not doing this to be cruel or prove my intelligence.'

'Well, that's what it seems like.'

'Im sorry it seems that way. Really, I promise, that was not my intention.' John's jaw hit the floor. Had Sherlock really apologized? No, it couldn't be. Sherlock never apologized.

'Sherlock, what are you getting at?' John asked more gently. He dropped his hands from their perch on his hips. John eased his stance and tried to not give off an imposing air.

'John, I don't want you to go out with her because I want you to being going on that date with me.' Sherlock bowed his head. 'I understand if you would like to leave. Spare me the "I don't want to ruin our friendship speech" and just go. I don't need your comforting and caring attitude now. That will only hurt more.'

John's breathing became labored. His heart thumped loudly in his head. The noise drowned out any other in the room and caused his brain to spin. John began to vibrate with happiness, relief, joy, and any other emotion you could name. Since the second he had met this crazy man John had dreamed of this moment. The moment this delusional sociopathic detective would choose to like him. It was an unbelievably hopeful sensation. It was better than John had thought it could have been.

'Hurt more?' It was the only John could manage to say. 'I already hurt you?'

'No! No, of course not. John, you must understand that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. It's my fault that I ruined it with my sentiment. Please forgive me. I just- I needed-' Sherlock sighed and gave up explaining.

'You really mean that?'

'Absolutely. With out a doubt. John, I have never cared for anyone, but you. Somehow you are different. I don't know how. You just are. You aren't dull or boring or stupid or frankly uninteresting like everyone else is. John, you are so different and so special. More so than I thought ever possible.'

'Please tell me you are not lying.' John pleaded. He was in such a state of disbelief. John was merely waiting to be shaken awake.

'I have no reason to lie.'

'No, Sherlock. No word tricks or anything like that. Just straight up tell me. Are you lying?'

'No.'

And silence descended. The weight of the situation hung in the room. John was too overwhelmed to actually say anything and Sherlock was too scared he had already said more than he should have. In reality, he had said just enough. He said just enough to prove to John this wasn't a joke or an experiment. No. This was real. Tangible. Something that can be molded into greatness.

John carefully began to put on his jacket and collect his wallet. John quickly shed the keys from the home on the wall before shoving them deep in his pocket. Sherlock looked crestfallen. He was expecting rejection. But it still hurts.

Suddenly, Sherlock felt the heavy fabric of his wool coat. He looked up at John, who then placed his purple-grey scarf on top.

'I think Angelo's is appropriate, but that could be seen as too sentimental.' Now it was Sherlock's turn to be astounded. His lips parted a minuscule amount and his eyes peeled wide.

'What?'

'Our first date. If you'd still like to go.'

'Angelo's is perfect.' Sherlock smiled. A wonderful, luminescent smile. One that didn't just light up your face, but your eyes and your skin and your whole being.

Three hours later they kiss for the first time.

Two weeks later they tell people they're together for the first time.

One month later they well... You know... For the first time.

Three months later they go to a family party together for the first time.

Six months later they go on a private holiday for the first time.

Seven months later they both contemplate the idea of truly loving the other man for the first time.

Ten months later they admit that they really do love each other -in their minds at least- for the first time.

Here we are. Exactly one year after that sublime day. That's when something truly lovely and wondrous happens.

'I love you.'

A/N: yes.. I posted two today... I'm making up for the extreme lack of posting.

The Internet is still down and I'm still going to the library to post but the library is closed on Sundays and Monday is Memorial Day. :p

Ugh. American holidays!

The second I get Internet back I promise to give a steady update again.

This ones a bit longer, but my drabbles have been getting a bit short and a bit silly. We needed a serious one :) hoped you liked it!