Hey Guys,

Sorry this took so long to update, I got banned from the laptop! I was looking at to much "Sherlock stuff" apparently! Parents have no idea.

Anyway if you're still with this story then thank you that means a lot, and do please comment constructive criticism is always welcome.

Scarlett x

Chapter Three

An hour later and Sherlock was throwing cardboard boxes around the room, in an attempt to tidy up the bomb site that was the kitchen. John was watching in amusement and adoration, unbeknown to Sherlock of course. Sherlock had attempted to persuade to help him tidy up his mess but John had made up a very weak excuse in an attempt to escape this chore. He was meant to be writing in his blog but he was too caught up in the beautiful and hilarious scene before him.

Sherlock had thrown on a dressing gown and slippers after John had fixed his arm up, much to John's disappointment. He was amazed by the detective. John knew from first hand experience that stitches hurt, they hurt a lot, so seeing Sherlock running round the kitchen, arms flailing about madly, made John feel strangely proud of Sherlock. Proud that he was actually attempting to tidy up for one, but more so at his bravery. He knew for a fact that Sherlock was in pain and yet, for John's sake he was putting himself purposely out of his depth and helping.

It had been an hour since Sherlock had started to "tidy" and he hadn't gotten anywhere. John felt quite guilty, that he had been sitting staring for an hour whilst Sherlock was tidying, while he was injured. Actually when he focused on that guilt he felt extremely guilty. Putting Sherlock through that was cruel, John realized and the guilt welled up from his stomach and enveloped him in a big bubble.

John was quick to mentally pop it however so that he could go and help the poor man.

"Sherlock" John said quietly, the guilt nearly overpowering. Why did he feel so guilty? Sherlock spun on his heels to face John with a pained smile on his face.

"Yes John?"

"I'm sorry"

"Sorry?" The Detective queried in confusion.

"For making you do this when you're injured"

"John, don't be stupid I offered. Anyway it doesn't hurt" He said putting on a brave face.

"Sherlock I'm not stupid, I know you're in pain. God what a crap Doctor I am, what a crap friend I am." John bowed his head and examined the floor in an attempt not to cry.

"Hey John you're not a crap friend. You're a great friend. A great Doctor as well might I add. John, why are you crying? John?"

Sherlock's kind words just pushed him over the edge and John couldn't take it anymore. The sadness of having to hide the fact he was irrevocably in love with his best friend. The guilt of putting Sherlock in more pain than was needed. The anger that Sherlock hadn't deduced that he was in love with him.

"John, what's wrong, please tell me" Sherlock asked voice racked with pain.

"I don't deserve you" John replied through sobs as he sunk to the floor.

"Don't deserve me! John you are the best man I have ever met. I am the one that doesn't deserve you"

"Why haven't you figured it out yet Sherlock? Why? That's your job." John whispered as his sobs subsided.

"Figured out what John?" Sherlock asked as he joined his best friend on the only bit of clear floor in the whole room.

John turned to look at Sherlock and his heart melted when he saw that the Detectives emotionless walls had broken down. John didn't think he had ever seen Sherlock look so scared and helpless. This made John feel even guiltier and the tears he were trying so hard to stop just came quicker than before.

"I'm so sorry Sherlock. Don't ask why Sherlock, I'm just so sorry." The sobs racking his body. Through his tears John could see that Sherlock looked even more helpless than before. He was staring at John with confusion, sorrow and pain. There was a hint of something, something John couldn't pin point. Something that looked very out of place on Sherlock's face. It looked like- but no it couldn't be. It was just John's wishful thinking. Sherlock didn't feel like that. Sherlock barely felt at all.

Then, hesitantly, Sherlock lifted his arm and draped it around John's shaking shoulders and pulled him towards his body in a sideways hug. John was startled at first by the sudden display of affection, but quickly recovered and leaned in to the embrace. No words were spoken between them, none were needed, and the silence did not need to be broken.

From the outside it would have looked very strange. Two men huddled in the corner surrounded by science equipment, cardboard boxes and body parts. But to both the men, it felt like the most normal thing in the world.

After a couple of minutes of Sherlock's comforting words and John trying very hard not to snog the living daylights out of him, John's sobs started to subside and he could feel Sherlock relax slightly. The Doctor knew he should be trying to regain some of his dignity, but he didn't want to be the one to break the silence. It was the closest he had ever gotten to Sherlock (in real life anyway) and he didn't ever want to move from this spot. Because Sherlock's arms felt like heaven.

"John erm not that I'm not happy in this position, I am, but er, my leg is going dead" Said Sherlock awkwardly.

"Oh right, sorry. That was selfish of me." John apologized and wiped his eyes. He felt much better now that he had gotten it all out, he felt like confessing, confessing his love for the younger man. But he knew that he wouldn't be able to.

"Not at all love, I'm sure it's good to have a good cry now and again. Although I wouldn't know I'm not one for cry-"

"Sherlock you were doing a great job of comforting, don't spoil it now!" John chuckled as he rose to his feet.

"Right well I'm going to get dressed because, well." Sherlock gestured to his dressing gown and John saw that it was completely soaked with John's tears.

John blushed and looked down, how humiliating.

"Sorry, again." John replied as he made his way back to the front room. He then sunk into his arm chair and tried to wish away the headache he could feel coming on.

"No need to keep apologizing, John" Sherlock muttered to himself as he exited the room to take a shower.

John smiled weakly to himself and closed his eyes. He was about to let the sleep take him but stopped himself when he realized that the kitchen was still a bomb site.

With a groan The Doctor pulled himself off of the couch and sloped towards the kitchen entrance. As he bent down to maneuver the first box from the path that John was sure he had cleared earlier, Sherlock's earlier words suddenly hit him like a truck.

Flashback

Sherlock: "John erm not that I'm not happy in this position, I am, but er, my leg is going dead"

John: "Oh right, sorry. That was selfish of me."

Sherlock: "Not at all love, I'm sure it's good to have a good cry now and again."

Flashback Ends

Not at all love

Love

Love

Love

Sherlock had called him love.

What the hell did that mean? Suddenly John didn't care about the mess of a kitchen. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to even register that he had moved from the kitchen back to his armchair. Slowly lowering himself into the chair, John's mind was taken up with questions, theories and hopes that maybe, just maybe the feelings that John had for Sherlock were mutual after all.