Chapter 9: Chasing The Dream

As it was expected, neither of the men got to even get a tiny bit of sleep that night. Both replaying the events of the day and sorting through their respective insecurities and apprehensions. Sheltering in each of their rooms and refusing to come out in fear of encountering the other in the hallway or sitting room.

Even if he hadn't felt rejection from John, the detective suddenly experienced a pang of anxiety as he remembered gazing into the eyes of the other man, what if he just ruined everything? This was exactly what he was trying to avoid and he couldn't conjure up what had possessed him to risk it.

He decided he was never going to fix anything sitting inside of his quarters making up different scenarios. He had to set his mind in something else. Distract his brain before he drove himself insane. He carefully opened his door and padded out to the kitchen. Once he deemed the coast clear, he stalked over his chair and pulled out his violin. As soon as the instrument was under his chin he already felt more relaxed, like he could think a bit clearer.

He played for a little while until he heard soft steps cautiously coming down the stairs. Once John had crossed the door, he put the bow off the strings and resumed to place his violin inside its case.

"Good morning." John said. Clearly a bit more at ease than last night, but still quite reserved, as if he had resolved to fight through this problem but was nonetheless afraid of how things would play out. That uncertainty calmed the detective a little bit, at least John didn't intend to make a run for it for now -for later, only time would tell-.

"Good morning." He responded as casual as he could, which still came out as completely frightened.

"So..." The blogger began, but trailed off as he couldn't conjure up what to say. He hadn't planed on what words to speak when he steeled himself to get out of his room. His plan reached up until getting to the last step of the stairs, and even that had already seemed ambitious for then.

"So..." Responded the genius, and then mentally kicked himself for acting so stupidly. Since when did he drained his brain and opted for just repeating everything his flatmate said?

"Yesterday." The blogger started. Not knowing how to label the incident of the night prior. He hesitates, and waits for his friend to acknowledge he knew what they were talking about. Praying he wouldn't have to elaborate.

"Yes?" Sherlock responded expectantly. As if urging John to continue. Looking eagerly throughout his face, looking for clues and evidence to form a proper deduction, which his mind was apparently still too caught up in a loop to do.

"Did you really mean it?" He said after sighing, just spitting it out. "You really want this?" He gestured vaguely between himself and the detective. As if any specification of their feelings other than absolutely necessary would burn him. At least he was managing to say more than one word.

Sherlock was grateful of the soldier's articulation with sentiment. Yes, the situation was beyond awkward and embarrassing for both of them, but at least he was talking, which was more than what the boffin could say about himself. After what he did yesterday, he doubted he would ever act so fearlessly about sentiment again. It had been an adrenaline-induced once in a lifetime incident. Not because he didn't want to, but because had John just decided to shrug the entire night off and forget it, had he not followed him and demanded an explanation, and had Sherlock not lost himself in the heat of the moment, he was sure he would have never dared.

"Yes." He responded honestly. More honest than he had ever been.

"Good. That's good." His blogger relaxed significantly and took a few steps towards his flatmate. "I want it too." And he saw as Sherlock's face was letting go some of the apprehension. Good, he preferred when his detective wasn't riled up.

"So are we...?" Sherlock asked innocently even thought he already knew the answer. He just wanted to make one hundred percent sure there won't be any misunderstandings. Hurt feelings would ruin both their lives, and they would not just lose the renting of a flat together, or the running through London chasing a criminal, they would lose the friendship both of them had worked so hard to build and keep.

"A couple?" The doctor guessed. Somehow amazed that he was actually having this conversation where everything would change, a moment in their lives that would be carved out in stone for the rest of the eternity.

Sherlock is almost overcome with emotion as he hears John say that word, and he was glad to realise the emotion was not nervousness anymore, but the situation had an air of hilarity on its importance. Both men laughed at themselves and the curly-haired just nodded his affirmative.

"Yes, yes, I believe we are." And John Watson grinned the biggest smiled he had probably grinned since he found out Sherlock had finally gotten rid of those hazardous rotting thumbs that had been sitting in their fridge for months.

"John, what we...what we did...last night. It was...good." The tall man tried to ascertain, he would definitely have to research some things about relationships if he wanted to be able to express his thoughts to his now boyfriend and not make a fool of himself and stutter like that again.

John chuckled a bit, and the boffin soon joined in, they should have done this ages ago. God, they were idiots. "I do believe we need a bit of practice though." He smirked and watched as the younger man's eyes widened with surprise and glimmered with interest at the idea. "Come here." And even after saying that, the blogger was the one quick enough to close the distance and kiss the detective properly this time.

They adjusted into a technique after a few bumps and errors and were soon kissing each other passionately. John with both hands on the detective's waist, and said genius grabbing a fistful of his blogger's rumpled shirt, holding on for dear life.

After a few more minutes of full-on snogging -thing which Sherlock hadn't done since uni- they decided to take a breath. Sherlock, being who he is, took an opportunity to say something. Something clever which would let John know exactly what he thought of everything that had passed. Instead he ended up saying. "I think I finally have something to thank Mycroft for."

It didn't seem to matter though, because John laughed. Hard. Apparently it had worked better than anything else could, so Sherlock couldn't help but being dragged along and giggled too. "You do that." John assured him once the laughs had somewhat calmed. He brushed one stray curl from his boyfriend's face and remarked.

"But for the record, if you ever bring up Mycroft while we're snogging again, I'm leaving you." He said without malice and soon they were overcome with a fit of joy and mirth that they both had to sit on the floor of the flat's sitting room.

"Agreed." The detective said between stifled laughter.