Chapter 5

"What just happened, John?" Sherlock sniffled and looked down at John who was still holding him.

"I- I don't know. You-"

"Yes. I did. But why?"

"Well… Sherlock… You- Your life has been ruined."

"I can fix that." Sherlock sniffed, but adopted his look of pure calm again.

"O-ok."

"You didn't answer my question." Sherlock's expression became blank as ever and he adopted the look of pure confusion he always did when he didn't understand human feelings, even his own.

"What were you asking?"

"What happened? Why did you rush over here?"

John's face contorted in confusion, as he forgot how Sherlock didn't always understand lower-functioning humans' feelings. "You were crying."

"But why do you care so much as to come and hold me?"

John's face became blushed for what must have been the 20th time that day. "You were crying…"

"You exhibited such an affectionate response."

The conversation was embarrassing John more and more by the second. The action had seemed so right in the moment, but had he made the wrong move?

Why did I do that? He is going to think I like him now. What if I actually do like him. I need to see what these feelings really are. Avoiding them is doing me no good. "Well- well, yes." What in hell am I supposed to say? I have strange feelings of affection for you that I have never felt for a bloke before? Sherlock doesn't even like people.

The two men realized then that they were still embracing each other. John quickly let go upon this realization. Sherlock did not.

Should I let go? I don't really want to let go. I don't understand why he let go, but I also don't understand why I did not let go. This is quite interesting. I am feeling sort of what people tell me that they have felt when they fancy someone. "John, you are acting affectionate towards me, and I am doing the same to you. Now, I have never felt this way, nor have I ever understood these feelings that you have, but as my friend, I am asking you to explain them to me."

John went slack jawed and just stared. John couldn't even think, his brain went blank and he leaned forward, his face just centimeters from Sherlock's own and stayed there. "I- how can I explain them to you?"

Sherlock had never been a man for pure action. He had always thought about everything, mentally scanning through every possible option in a situation. He usually thought fast and debated each option in his mind, finding the logical one, selecting it, and putting it to use. In this moment, Sherlock did not select carefully the logical option and put it to use, even if it was a destructive or childish decision. He didn't think and he didn't analyze the situation. Sherlock, for the first time in his life, acted upon pure impulse.

Sherlock leaned forward, and without the slightest thought about how he had never done this before, kissed John. For the first time, he had kissed someone. He had never worried about whether he was gay or straight, he always thought, no, he knew, he was asexual. He was married to his work? Wrong. Sherlock, for the first time, felt physical attraction for another person. He had cared for John, of course. John was his friend, his first friend and his only friend. He had never felt this emotional attachment to another person, so he assumed it was only friendship. However, in this moment, physical and emotional attraction met at the same point. Sherlock didn't know that this was what normal people would label as love and lust meeting. Love wasn't putting it too far either, because even if John didn't know it, Sherlock knew that John had felt love for him too. John had waited, cried, and cared for him throughout Sherlock's death, and his survival. John cared more than he understood yet, but only Sherlock knew this. After all, even if Sherlock had acted upon impulse, once that impulse was over, and their lips were touching, he deduced everything he could about every interaction he and John had had. More importantly, he deduced everything about the kiss.

As for lust…

John was taken aback. What had just happened to him? He had never been attracted to men. All those years of dating women, men had never even crossed his mind. Sherlock was different. He hadn't realized it, but even when he was with Sarah, his mind was constantly drifting to Sherlock. The day that their flat was affected by the explosion, he hadn't ran to their flat to assess the damage, he had ran to see if Sherlock was ok. Even sometimes when he and Sarah slept together, their bodies thrusting together, he would think of Sherlock. Usually, when that happened, John ignored it; he brushed it off as being bored with having sex with her. After a while though, Sarah began to bore him, and not just sexually. Every time they were together, he would think of Sherlock. John continuously denied these feelings, even to the point that he believed the lies he told himself. He believed it when he lied to himself that thinking about Sherlock's body splayed out in front of him as he entered Sarah was only his mind tricking him, and that it was the multiple glasses of wine he had consumed causing the strange feelings. Those glasses seemed to increase in quantity the more these thoughts occurred. Nearing the end of their relationship, it seemed as though the only way he could sleep with Sarah was when he was intoxicated. Once Sherlock's lips touched his, all of the feelings he had pushed away before came shooting back to the surface. His stomach was in knots and he felt a heavy warmth spreading through his lower body. He suddenly became aware of his feelings for Sherlock. He was so painfully aware of his feelings and how they had existed so far before this point, all of the drunkenness which he had clung to when he slept with a woman, all of the feelings he shoved out of the way the day that the flat was bombed, all of the feelings he had blamed on friendship, and all of the feelings he had pushed away after he thought he lost Sherlock, and all those that hit him when he found out Sherlock was alive. He realized all of his feelings for Sherlock that he had pushed away in the time he had known Sherlock. They all came rushing back.

The two men's thoughts in that moment had slipped away only milliseconds later, falling away to reveal sheer pleasure in the kiss. Sherlock's lower lip found its way in between John's just as John's hand found its way to Sherlock's neck. John pulled himself closer to Sherlock and Sherlock wrapped his hand around John's waist. He pulled John into his lap, ignoring the pain that shot up from his legs. He didn't care, he wrapped his other arm around John's waist, and John didn't seem to mind, he sat on Sherlock's lap in the wheelchair awkwardly but without a thought. As soon as their lips broke, their eyes met each other's again. John's arms were now fully wrapped around Sherlock's neck, and the two men were clinging to each other. Their lips nearly smashed together again. They were both hungry, and had been hungry for some time now, but didn't know what for until now. Sherlock shouldn't have been so good at kissing; this was, after all, his first kiss. He seemed to catch on very quickly and even bit John's lip and licked it. John realized the request and accepted Sherlock's tongue in his mouth. Their tongues did dances, starting off slow and speeding up progressively. Sherlock broke the kiss and began kissing down John's neck. Writhing in pleasure, John's fingers intertwined through Sherlock's hair as Sherlock hungrily licked, sucked and bit his neck.

John's eyes lazily opened and before he knew it, he was completely aware of everything that was going on. Especially the fact that there was now a hard cock pressed up against his ass, and his own was painfully restricted in his pants. He looked down at the curly-brown haired man sucking on his neck. He had to restrain himself from letting out a large groan, but as Sherlock was still lost in the physical interaction, he did not restrain himself. He let out a throaty groan and moved his hand down to John's ass. Everything was going so fast, and that groan had made everything too real; John panicked. He got up faster than Sherlock could react, and stared at the man sitting in the wheelchair below him. Sherlock rolled back a few feet. "Is that what always happens when someone asks you to explain something?"

John couldn't help but begin laughing. "No, Sherlock. In fact, that never happens when someone asks for an explanation."

Sherlock laughed with him, but his eyes went to the floor and his cheeks went a deep red. I've never seen him blush… John thought as he looked at Sherlock.

"But now I am going to request an explanation." John paused; he had to ask this question carefully. "Why did you kiss me?" So much for delicate…

"Why did you kiss back?" Sherlock was never one to miss a beat. He donned his normal everyday expression for quick and seemingly agitated responses. He was the one who leaned in. If he hadn't wanted me to kiss him—

"I have never kissed a man." John sadly wasn't lying. He may have had a thing in college, but that didn't mean it was sweet or loving.

"I have never kissed anyone."

"Well, you have me beat there."

"Well? Isn't this supposed to be awkward or something stupidly unintelligent?"

"How about you deduce the answer to your question?"

"Ok. Well I can deduce that you liked it, judging by the state of your stretched jeans. You wanted to kiss me, by the way you leaned in, and you still want to kiss me. You also are ashamed for some reason, and are in a slight state of shock."

John's mouth hung open. Is it really that obvious that I still want to kiss him?

"Yes. It is." Sherlock replied to the thought he read through the crease in John's forehead. John's eyes darted to Sherlock, he would have been mad, but that bloody smile was too much. John knew it wasn't the time, they had things to discuss, but he leaned over and kissed Sherlock again. I love the way his lips taste. So… delicious…

Sherlock had no choice but to kiss back. John's lips were the only place his mind had no quick retorts to think of, no easy deductions. Lips… Why haven't I tried this before? I should have kissed John ages ago.

Their lips melted together, their tongues did dances, John pulled Sherlock's lips closer by the back of his head, with his fingers locked in Sherlock's soft hair. This time, John was the first to groan. Sherlock ignored the pain that came from his still healing body as he strained to continue meeting John's lips.