Sorry for the late! waiting for your responses!
"Why do I feel like you've spent all your money on these." Sherlock said gaping at the things strewn all over John's bed. He was sitting on the bed now with John kneeling on the floor uncovering one thing after another beaming at Sherlock. Sherlock's expression on the other hand alternated between annoyance and astonishment.
Poker faced bastard. Thought John warmly.
"Wrong feeling. I didn't." he said simply unwrapping a navy blue silk shirt feeling contended.
"I feel other things too." Said Sherlock tentatively.
John looked up.
"Loved."
John's smile faded as his heart did an odd thing he didn't know it could do.
"Cared." Silvery blue eyes bore into his soul.
"Cherished."
John had stopped breathing by then.
"Wanted."
He needed to stop Sherlock or he would just drop dead there. He lunged forward and held the man in his arms burying his face in the crook of the speaking man's neck.
"Worried."
John sat up and looked at Sherlock questioningly.
"You are worried." The baritone said gravely.
John's face fell and he looked away.
"Who wouldn't be with a man like you around." He said smiling sadly.
Yes Sherlock I am worried. I am worried when again you'll do your vanishing act and I wouldn't be able to do anything again.
After a long period of silence John looked up to find Sherlock looking at him with a weary look of extreme inner turmoil.
"I have a job John." Sherlock gasped out suddenly breaking the silence.
John looked up at him listening intently. This was the first time the man was opening up. John focused all his concentration on Sherlock and gripped his hand firmly.
Sherlock looked down at their hands and said quietly.
"I can't tell you what it is."
John's face turned gravely, he thought Sherlock was closing up again. He gave his hand a gentle squeeze to coax.
Sherlock drew a deep breath before speaking.
"My job requires me to kill people John. That's all I can say." He looked at John with a steady expression giving nothing away. But john could see the apprehension so vividly in those glossy, misty, impossible eyes.
Silence fell in the room again.
After a while John spoke softly.
"I don't know what obligations you have to work a job like this, but I sincerely hope that you overcome it someday. Because clearly you are ashamed of it. I can't imagine a person like you enjoying it, I can only imagine how hard it must be to be compelled to do something like this."
Sherlock looked at him dumbstruck.
John gave him an understanding smile.
"John…I just told you…I kill people for a living…" Sherlock said dazed.
"I know. I am not trying to justify your job. But it didn't surprise me after all I have seen of you." John said calmly.
"But you're the first person to actually understand…" Sherlock's words trailed off and for the first time John saw the man break.
John gathered the shivering man in his arms and ran his hand through his curls.
"It's okay…You're not bad…I know…I trust you."
"How can you? How can you trust me after I've told you this?" Sherlock sobbed.
"Sherlock I love you."
"Even now?"
"I loved you since I knew nothing about you."
"But now that you do?"
"I still do."
Sherlock sat up and stared into John's eyes.
"You know what this means."
John knew. John knew that this meant never having a normal life with this man. He knew this meant the man had to go away again sometime. He knew that if this man disappeared for good someday he could do nothing. John knew having a relationship with this man entailed only danger, pain and longing.
John took him in his arms again and buried his face in the curls. He didn't want to think about the worst now. Not now when he had the man in his arms, in his house, on his bed.
"I know." He whispered into the curls.