A/N: I love Sherlock, but I don't particularly like writing him because I do a terrible job. So, I'm sorry if he seems OOC or anything along those lines - I'm going to brush it off, claiming he could have changed in the three years since we saw him on the show, so, there. Thanks for reading so far, hope you enjoy this chapter!

I repeat, not a Johnlock fic.

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John Watson had rarely been able to surprise Sherlock Holmes, but he did with a kiss. John pressed his lips to Sherlock's, standing on his toes to reach and pulling Sherlock's face down to meet him and Sherlock froze. But not for long.

Recovering, Sherlock returned the kiss, wrapping his arms tighter around John and they moved together, a bit awkwardly but passionately. John let out a breathy moan and felt the tears start up again. He'd wanted this for so long. Sherlock's lips were cold but soft and there was something odd, unexpected, about the way they moved against his. After a few seconds, John pulled away, wanting to jump up and down and shout, wanting to curl up and cry, wanting to keep kissing Sherlock until it was physically impossible to continue, but something in Sherlock's eyes brought him crashing back to earth.

They stared at each other until John figured it out.

"Did - did you want to do that? Or did you just do it because I wanted it?" he asked suspiciously. He wished Sherlock's eyes would stop looking so pained and then wondered if it was now permanently part of the way his face looked.

Sherlock licked his lips and shook his head. "I don't know, John."

"Don't lie to me."

"It isn't a lie."

"You could tell me how much sleep I got last night and what side of my bedroom has a window, but you don't know if you want to kiss me or not?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

John took a deep breath, fighting his annoyance. "Okay," he said finally. "Okay, let's talk."

So they settled on Lestrade's sofa, next to each other but not touching. For twenty minutes, Sherlock talked about everything he'd done in the years apart, mostly solving cases under different names across the world. He'd stayed with Mycroft or in places Mycroft provided him most of the time. He talked about the whys and hows of his "death," how it had all worked and who had helped, including Molly Hooper's part in it. Mycroft hadn't betrayed him to Moriarty after all - it was all part of the plan.

Sherlock had checked on John every day. When he was able, he would personally find John and follow him for a while to make sure he was okay. When he wasn't able to do that, he had his people follow John or he'd get updates from Mycroft who had never lifted John's surveillance status.

"Did you make any friends?" John asked, hoping it sounded off-handed.

"Depends on your definition of 'friend,'" said Sherlock with a wave of his hand. "I've helped a lot of people, I have more people now that I can turn to when I need a favor. I've built up my network quite a bit." He paused. "But the last few years have been - lonely."

"Have they really? Because I think you've been kissing people." Sherlock's eyes cut to him, looking confused. John smiled grimly and continued: "You know how to kiss. There was something odd about it and I've only just figured out what it was - you're experienced. Far more experienced than I would have guessed, you knew what you were doing. You can't learn that from a book, Sherlock."

For a moment, Sherlock's eyes turned gleeful and the corners of his mouth twitched. He was impressed. He gave a short nod before swiping the emotion from his face. "Your deduction skills have improved."

"Who have you been kissing, then?"

Sherlock glanced around the room. "A person here or there. No one of any importance."

"Did you shag any of them?" John felt a touch of jealousy but his curiosity outweighed it tenfold. He was more interested in this than the cases Sherlock had been involved in.

"No."

"Did you date any of them?"

Sherlock studied his face for a second before answering. "One. We were together on what some would refer to as a date twice."

John almost laughed. "Was... was this a woman or a man?"

"A woman." The way he said the word inexplicably called Irene Adler to mind, but John knew she'd been executed so he shook his head.

"Why this interest in kissing and dating? What changed?"

"A lot of things have changed, John. I was -" He stopped, avoiding John's eyes. Sherlock sighed. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter: "I'm not any more adept in regards to relationships, matters of the metaphysical heart, than when I left you years ago. I've tried some experiments, tried to learn what I can in order to improve myself, specifically in anticipation of - returning to you."

John felt a blush creep up his face. "And the results?"

"Negligible."

"I have trouble believing that. They had to have told you something."

"They told me I wasn't interested in pursuing relationships with any of those people. But that doesn't answer my original question."

"Which was?"

Sherlock finally looked at John again. "What kind of relationship I want with you."

A beat passed. "Did you not like what we had?"

"I did. But I wondered if there could be more to it."

"Do you want there to be more to it?"

"I told you, I don't know. Everyone assumed we had a different kind of relationship. People, you included, seek out those kinds of relationships."

"But you aren't interested in that kind of relationship."

"Correct. What if I'm not interested because I haven't put enough thought into it? What if I decided early in life that my time and energy would be better suited towards my work and therefore made myself thoroughly uninterested?"

John shrugged. "Even if that's the case, why challenge it?"

"Because of you. It wasn't long before I learned of your relationship with Lestrade. It was an easy leap to assume you were attracted to me, seeing as Lestrade was obviously a replacement you found for me. Then I was left with the question of whether or not I could be attracted to you."

John frowned. "Lestrade wasn't a replacement for you."

"Of course he was," said Sherlock, offhandedly, but he noticed the look on John's face and added, "Sorry. I don't mean that he still is. Whatever your relationship with him now, I'm sure it stands on its own. Regardless, I suspected that upon my return you would want a similar relationship with me so I sought to discover relevant things about myself."

John decided to let the topic of Lestrade drop for the moment. "Relevant things - like if you're gay?"

"Yes."

"And you weren't able to figure it out? Honestly, I've always assumed you were not attracted to anyone - asexual."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "That's a possibility," he muttered morosely.

"So, you aren't attracted to me. Seems like you answered your question," said John bitterly. He wasn't just hurt by that conclusion - he was frustrated. He'd forgotten how annoying Sherlock could be when he got in a mood, unrealistically expecting John to follow his train of thought, but it was all coming back to him. And he was angry for having gotten his hopes up by that kiss.

"Answered my question, perhaps, but I haven't solved my problem."

John closed his eyes momentarily, hoping for patience. "And what is your problem?"

"I want you."

"You just said you didn't want me."

"No, I said I didn't want to shag you. For some reason, that's what everyone thinks it means, but I want to be with you. Live with you, work with you. That's what I want, that's the most satisfying relationship it's possible for me to have, but you need more from a relationship. You need physical intimacy, sex. I wondered if giving that to you might be enough, so you wouldn't look for another relationship, you'd stay with me. That's what I meant when I said I didn't know if I wanted to kiss you or not. I want conflicting things."

"Damn it, Sherlock," John muttered.

"It doesn't matter now, though. I was too slow. You're married and I - I wouldn't be a friend if I wanted you to leave her."

John sighed. "So. If we can't be flatmates and we can't work together, what do you want?"

"Why can't we work together?"

"I don't know that I want to go back to working with Greg. Things are too different now."

Sherlock looked rather like his spirit was broken by those words. He stared at the floor. "I don't know, John."

John remembered Mary's words from the night before. "We could try just being friends. Get together sometimes. Have a, er, normal relationship."

Sherlock nodded slowly. "Certainly, yes. I'm willing to try if you are. I'm sorry. For the kiss. I didn't mean to mislead you."

John shrugged. "I can't deny – well, being a bit disappointed, but even if you were interested in shagging me, it wouldn't work out. I couldn't do that to Mary. Or to Greg, for that matter."

Sherlock looked around, confused. "It isn't a problem of exclusivity, obviously. What would be the problem?"

John pursed his lips for a moment. "It'd be different with you. Mary knew about Greg from the start. She agreed to tolerate our relationship when she married me. Not to mention that the nature of the relationship would be different. Greg doesn't take much of my time away from Mary, he doesn't prove to be any kind of distraction, while you – you probably would." John felt a little embarrassed at the implication towards his true feelings for Sherlock, but he ignored it. There was no point being embarrassed now, Sherlock already knew everything.

"And why would Lestrade care?"

"What?"

"You said you couldn't 'do that to Greg,' why would he care? Those reasons about Mary don't apply to him, seeing as your relationship with him is closer to casual than committed."

John had to think for a moment about that before he realized where Sherlock had gotten lost. "No, Greg doesn't care who I'm with," he corrected him. He opened his mouth to continue, but stopped himself. It wasn't his place to tell Sherlock about Greg's feelings for him or the betrayal he was sure Lestrade would feel if John and Sherlock shagged. "Just... never mind, it doesn't matter."

Sherlock looked at him suspiciously. "Just what is your relationship with Lestrade? Has it been labeled?"

"He's my best friend," John said automatically and suddenly there was tension in the room. Sherlock took a deep breath, clearly stung. John stammered, "I mean, you – you've been gone so long. And he's been there for me, the whole time."

"I couldn't have expected to retain that title," Sherlock conceded quietly.

John thought briefly about saying that everyone knew Lestrade was John's best friend only because Sherlock was out of the picture, that Lestrade could have never won without Sherlock forfeiting the position in the first place, but decided against it when he remembered the comment earlier about Lestrade being a replacement for Sherlock. Instead, John continued answering the question.

"Just after you disappeared, we were sort of dating but we didn't call it that. That ended after, er, eight months or so. Since then, we've supported each other, however we needed at the time. Sometimes it's involved physical things – mostly just talking and drinking. He was the best man at my wedding."

Sherlock nodded. "He and Harry stood with you."

"Lestrade told you about it?"

"No," said Sherlock slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was there."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Then John felt goosebumps rise up on his arms and he stared at Sherlock, his lips slightly parted. "You were at my wedding?"

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

And John remembered that day, how he'd wished Sherlock would be there – he'd felt it hadn't been right without him. He had mentioned that to Lestrade, who answered, "He didn't like weddings, but you know he'd be here if he could."

Tears burned his eyes now, touched, and he was again struck by how weird it was that Sherlock wasn't dead. He reached over, took Sherlock's hand and squeezed it. He didn't know what to say. They sat in silence for over a minute, looking at each other. A part of John never wanted to stop looking at him, lest he disappear again. He hoped the black eye would go away soon - it didn't help his guilt.

Sherlock was the one who finally broke the silence. "Speaking of Greg, should we tell him he can return to his own flat?"

John grinned. "Probably."

"Anything else we need to talk about before we do?"

John shook his head. "I'm about all talked out for now. Are you going to be busy the next few days?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Lestrade and I are going to the Yard at some point, to talk about letting me join the force. He thinks he can get them to hire me on, officially, because he doesn't want to start breaking all the rules again. Other than that, not much planned."

"Okay. I want you to meet Mary. Properly, that is."

Sherlock glanced at him. He hesitated before nodding. "Okay." He pulled out his phone, sent a text, and they sat back to wait for Lestrade.