Hey guise! So I hope you liked chapter one, I've had chapters 2-6 written for a while now, but they're not typed so I'm going to type them up one by one and publish them. My computer has been broken for a very long time but I finally replaced the hard drive and it works like new now! I also finished watching Supernatural so now I have lots of free time to update my fanfictions.

Again, John's thoughts are in Italics.

So here you go my loves, Enjoy.

John got the chicken fresco, Sherlock got nothing (as per usual) and it had been mellow for the past twenty minutes.

They had gotten to the restaurant around eight and were seated quickly.

"Champagne for the couple?" The ridiculously french waiter asked.

"We're not a-"

"No thank you." Sherlock interrupted John's protest. John glared at Sherlock then back at the bald waiter with the cheesy mustache. He rolled his eyes and opened the menu they were handed.

"John." Sherlock whispered as the old man walked away.

"What?" John retorted, admittedly slightly irritated.

"That's him." Sherlock nodded his head towards the people sitting a few feet behind the army doctor. John nonchalantly glanced behind himself.

The man they were watching was a mass drug dealer supposedly connected to four murders. He was an average, if not handsome, looking man in a plain grey suit. His black hair against his pale skin made his dark brown eyes stand out and look very cold. He was eating with a female who's back was to John, she was dressed in a very tight maroon dress with dark hair as well. John couldn't get a look at her face but he assumed she was attractive. John turned back to Sherlock and nodded.

~oOo~

"So you're really not going to eat anything?" John asked, looking up from his plate.

"Can't, busy." Sherlock said, not turning away from staring at the man. John shook his head and went back to his food.

"John look." Sherlock whispered. John turned around. Sure enough, the man stood up to take a phone call. Sherlock got up and followed with John close behind. They walked quietly behind the man down the dark corridor which led to the lavatory. They passed the restroom and walked to the end of the hall which held a door that led to the alley behind the restaurant. He was talking too quiet to understand and then suddenly stopped. John panicked but Sherlock noticed a small alcove hidden in the shadows of the hallway, he pushed John and himself into it, hushing the doctor.

John went rigid. It was a very small alcove, just enough room to hide both of their bodies in the darkness, but they had to press the selves up against each other to fit. John shut his eyes and tried to calm himself down, but he could feel every part of his body that pressed up against the warmth of Sherlock. His head started spinning and he bit down on his lip and held his breath. Knee to knee, hip to hip... chest to chest.

Oh god. John thought as he tilted his back to lean against the wall. He breathed slowly, trying again (and failing) to control his breath). Calm yourself, it's just Sherlock, he's your mate, stop feeling like this! He mentally commanded. Thankfully Sherlock spoke up then.

"He's gone." The detective said, slipping out.

Finally. "Oh, good. Fantastic." John breathed, once again following Sherlock. They paid the bill then left the restaurant seeing as the pair were gone when they got back to the table.

~oOo~

In the cab back to the flat, John couldn't keep still.

What the bloody hell happened back there? John glanced over at his friend He sat completely still, gazing out the window at the dark city they drove through. John realized he was staring and looked forward again. Do I fancy him? John panicked. No, stop it John, you're not gay. It was just adrenaline from before. He reasoned. Yea, that's what happened.