John sat down on the couch, a little sad but certainly not surprised that Sherlock opted to instead sit in his armchair with his tea. They had eaten by the kitchen table for once, and now they sat in silence, eating some of Mrs Hudson's delicious biscuits and watching a television program, just an old series. At least John was - Sherlock was just sat in his chair, undoubtedly lost in his mind palace.

John found himself deeply regretting his actions the previous evening, that they now sat this far apart. At least last night he could touch him, however restricted it was, and now Sherlock was across the room, for all he knew unwilling to ever return. Why did Mycroft have to meddle in things?!

"You are unhappy again" John was startled out of his thoughts by Sherlock speaking from over in his chair, looking at him once more looking vaguely vulnerable, and at the same time clearly was attempting to deduce him. His voice was soft, and rather unlike him, as he asked "tell me why? Please?"

John sighed, but obliged. He dreaded the day when the genius would figure out just how receptive John was to him saying please. He proceded to explain his entire thought process to the other man, trying to be as thorough as possible. Sherlock listened silently, no doubt filing every bit of it away in that massive mind palace of his, but when he finally finished, Sherlock rose and came to curl into his side, letting John stroke the side of his shoulder and neck.

John did so for a few moments, needing the comfort, but then stopped "you don't have to" he reassured the other man, but Sherlock merely shook his head, saying as if it somewhat surprised him, too, noting honestly "it does not bother me". John frowned, a little taken aback "it doesn't?" "No..." Sherlock seemed to consider this, no doubt picking it apart into a thousand tiny deductions and analysing it "that is not a spot with... many scars" he changed whatever he was about to say "and now all it reminds me of is you rubbing my shoulders after Mycroft let you loose, and that is not bad... that doesn't bother me".

John could not help it, he beamed with all his face, and did not even try to hide it. He continued to, for lack of a better word, pet Sherlock until he mumbled, sounding bothered, after all "John?" "Yes, Sherlock?" John held still, feeling rather apprehensive. "You do understand, that this doesn't mean... I... it is one thing, and..." John smiled, gently stroking down Sherlock's hair. "Yes, Sherlock, I know that. And I meant it when I said we can take it step by step. But this is good. This is progress. And" he bent down to gently kiss the world's only consulting detective on the head "it means that I can touch you, now, properly. Somewhere, at least. We will work on the rest. I am not in any hurry. Don't worry, I won't push".

Sherlock relaxed again, curling up around him as he so liked to do, and they spent the rest of the night merely cuddling together, John returning Sherlock's touches all the while, and relishing being able to do so. Suddenly, he did not regret the day before at all.

Sorry if you got notified of this update twice - I had some technical issues. All recognisable content belongs to its respective owners.

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