The first thing he felt was the breeze.
It blew swiftly across his face, and he took a moment to appreciate the fresh air. It felt like years since he'd been outside of the confining hallways of the hospital, but in fact it had only been a few days.
His discharge from hospital had been surprisingly painless, and mostly due to the fact that John had threatened Sherlock if he didn't behave.
Now John and Sherlock were on their way back to Baker Street, and Sherlock couldn't stop his mind from wandering. His memory was still a little fuzzy but John had filled in most of the blanks.
He'd told Sherlock about the case and the subsequent fire. About how John had run as soon as he'd received Sherlock's text.
Please hurry. I need you. SH
How lucky Sherlock had been that John had only been a few streets away. Had gotten there just in time. Had managed to mostly catch Sherlock as he jumped out the window of a burning building.
How John had saved his life. Again.
As Sherlock pondered that, John tried to replace the images that had been stuck in his head for the last few days.
Sherlock sprawled across John's body, barely conscious, struggling for breath, clutching at John's jumper. He tried to forget that the paramedics had to pry Sherlock's hands off of John so they could treat him. Or how Sherlock had only truly calmed down as John held his hand in the ambulance. Or how relieved John had been that Sherlock had made it through relatively unscathed.
Regardless of this, the taxi ride was quiet. Emotions had always been an unspoken part of their friendship and it seemed neither one felt comfortable changing that.
As soon as they arrived at Baker Street, Sherlock went straight to the bathroom to wash off the hospital scent. When he came out, freshly dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown, he was met with a quiet John sitting on the sofa.
"John?" Sherlock called out hesitantly. He walked slowly towards the sofa, his eyes trained intently on his flatmate. "I need to tell you something."
"What is it, Sherlock?" John asked, concerned. Hesitation was not a usual trait in the great Sherlock Holmes.
"Nothing's wrong," Sherlock reassured him, seeing John's guarded expression. He took a seat next to him. "I just wanted to say thank you, for saving my life again."
"You're welcome," John replied earnestly. "Was there anything else?" he added, noticing Sherlock fidgeting nervously.
Sherlock willed himself to stop fidgeting, and slowly settled his hand on John's knee. He waited, carefully watching John's expression, and when his friend didn't pull away from the touch Sherlock started edging closer. "Just one more thing," he whispered. He was dangerously close to John, but even so he leaned further towards him, still watching for John's reaction.
He was pleased when he noted John leaning closer and closer to him, both men meeting somewhere in the middle.
Before he could talk himself out of it Sherlock closed the distance between them and softly touched his lips to John's.
He closed his eyes without even realising as John reciprocated, bringing their lips together again. When they finally separated they both sat very still, foreheads touching, simply looking into one another's eyes.
Suddenly a look of pure joy settled itself on John's face. He gently laid his hand on Sherlock's cheek and the detective leaned into it. "I need you," Sherlock said softly, kissing John once again. "I want you."
"You have me," John replied. "You have me in every way possible."
John laid back on the sofa and held Sherlock against him, their hands held together over Sherlock's chest, as though they had always belonged there.
