First of all, so sorry for the delay. Real life caught up with me these last few weeks and sadly this story had to be put on the back-burner. However, hopefully there will be no more delays of that magnitude. Anyway, hopefully you guys enjoy this chapter and thanks again for reading! :)

John tried his best to keep up with Sherlock's long legs as they headed toward 22 Northumberland Street. Sherlock had quickly explained that he had found the woman's case, but not her mobile. According to Sherlock, this meant the killer had it given that a serial adulterer would keep a tight hold on her phone. He had then forced John to text the woman's mobile number, pretending to be the dead woman (Jennifer Wilson according to the label on her case) in order to "entice" the killer, as Sherlock put it. The moment John's mobile began ringing from a blocked number, they were off, heading to the location that "Jennifer" had asked the killer to meet her at.

Even at this moment, Sherlock was still rambling on about the case, but John was barely listening. Normally, he would have been hanging on every word that left Sherlock's mouth, but John found it hard to concentrate when that same image kept flashing through his mind. That image of Sherlock's lips locked on Jim's.

It made John sick with jealousy just thinking about it, even though he knew he had no right to be. "You just met him a few days ago for God's sake!" John told himself. "Not to mention you're not bloody gay!" Both of these points were in fact true. John barely knew anything about Sherlock and he had never been attracted to men before. However, he still couldn't help but wish it had been his lips pressing against Sherlock's and not Jim's.

There was also something about Jim that bothered John; something was just...off about him. Of course, the same thing could be said about Sherlock, but while John had instantly trusted Sherlock, he had instead instantly feared Jim. And it didn't help that his last words spoken to John about seeing him again had sounded more like a promise than an assumption.

"John? Are you even listening?"

Sherlock's exacerbated voice jarred John out of his thoughts and he quickly looked up to respond.

"Uh yes of course." He replied, forcing a small smile. "Sorry, I was just out of it for a second."

Sherlock frowned, but nodded curtly and soon was leading John into a small, dimly lit restaurant on the corner. They took a seat at a booth by the window and were quickly met by the loud, friendly owner who greeted Sherlock like an old friend. He went on and on about how Sherlock had saved him from a triple murder charge before Sherlock calmly reminded him that he had only done so by proving the owner was robbing a house at the time. However, the man brushed it off, still offering anything on the menu for Sherlock and his "date" and ignored John's protests that they were not dating.

Soon enough, they were sitting in silence, John eating and Sherlock staring intently out the window. As he ate, John couldn't help but stare at Sherlock's static form, though luckily Sherlock didn't seem notice. He couldn't deny that Sherlock was attractive even from a purely acetic perspective. He was a little odd looking with his abnormally high cheekbones and long, swan-like neck. However, these features only added to his appearance, making him more handsome and intriguing. The oddness of Sherlock's appearance along with those striking blue eyes and curly dark hair made John think he looked like some aristocratic prince of old. He most certainly held himself like one.

John shook his head, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach and his rather alarming fantasy of Sherlock in a regal crown and tights, and turned back to his meal. Then he suddenly remembered something he had forgotten to mention to Sherlock, something that had been pushed to back of his mind when he saw Jim and Sherlock kissing.

"People don't have archenemies." John announced to Sherlock.

Sherlock's head whipped toward him, looking rather confused, his eyes wide.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, rather slowly.

John took a bite of his chicken and continued.

"People don't have archenemies and yet this afternoon I met someone who claimed to be yours." He explained.

Sherlock suddenly nodded and he let out a deep sigh.

"Oh him." He said, seeming rather bored now. "Did he kidnap you and offer you money to spy on me?"

John let a short chuckle and leaned back in the booth.

"In fact, he did." He replied. "But I said no."

Sherlock shook his head at John.

"That's a shame." He said, matter-a-factly. "We could have split the fee."

John began to laugh, but seeing Sherlock was serious, he hid the rest of his laughter by taking another bite.

"But my point is that normal people don't have archenemies." John explained, once he had regained his composure. "Or even enemies for that matter."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, but John could see he was quite curious.

"Well, what do normal people have?" He asked John.

John raised his eyebrows, but he could tell Sherlock was once again serious. Had Sherlock never even had a real friend?

"Well..." John began, trying to find where to start. "I guess they have work colleagues, acquaintances, mates, people they don't like or even hate..."

John paused, clearing his throat, nervously.

"Boyfriends." He finished finally, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

John looked up at Sherlock to see his neck was slightly flushed. He refused to look John directly in the eye as he spoke.

"I told you before." Sherlock answered his voice stern and steady. "He is not my boyfriend."

John's voice was small, but he had to ask.

"But I am guessing he was at some point, right?" He questioned.

Sherlock nodded his jaw clenching. He still hadn't looked John in the eye.

"I don't like the silly label, but yes we were romantically involved." Sherlock answered. "But honestly relationships have never been my...forte."

John saw a flash of sorrow cross Sherlock's face, but he hid it quickly. John wanted to reached out and comfort him somehow, but he stopped himself and instead cleared his throat.

"That's alright." He said. "Honestly, I've, uh, never been good at romantic relationships either. I tend to muck it up at some point."

John took a deep breath, forcing a smile.

"But it's okay." He continued. "It just means you're unattached, like me."

John immediately regretted those last words as they left his mouth. "Really John?" He thought. "Are you actually hitting on this guy?" And to be honest with himself, John didn't know what he was doing. But as he looked up, Sherlock finally met his eyes. He seemed conflicted, his eyes narrowed and he was biting his inner cheek slightly. Finally, he answered and once again, it wasn't what John expected.

"Yes," Sherlock said slowly, a smile forming on his lips. "I guess that can be okay."

Relief swept through John's body, but it was quickly replaced with nerves. Did this mean Sherlock was actually interested in him? John didn't think it was possible, but all he could do was grin hopefully back.

Suddenly, Sherlock caught sight of something out the window and jumped out of his seat, running toward the door. And all John could do was happily follow Sherlock out into the street.

X

After what seemed like a lifetime of running, they finally arrived home, out of breath and giddy. Even though the chase had been for naught and they were back at square one, John was still somehow happy and he could see Sherlock felt the same. John could still feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He hadn't felt this alive since his time spent in Afghanistan behind enemy lines. But even then, it was different and filled with more fear and anxiety. This, what he was feeling now, was pure and joyful.

John collapsed against the stair post as Sherlock himself fell against the wall. John looked up him, that wonderful man who had already changed his life in two days, and smiled. Sherlock smiled back and before they knew it, they were both falling over in a fit of laughter.

John couldn't believe what they had just done: chased a cab on foot through the streets of London, frightened an American tourist, and impersonated an officer of the law. Then they had just ran, Sherlock leading him through back alleys and down streets John had never heard of. The patter of Sherlock's feet in front of him was somehow both invigorating and comforting. And now they were both standing in the entryway of their flat laughing for reasons that made little sense to either of them.

As the laughter died down and they gained control of faculties, John looked up once again at Sherlock. Their eyes met and the laughter suddenly stopped, replaced with something else. That something was much deeper, much stronger. It was something so strong that John found his feet moving closer to Sherlock, even though he couldn't remember telling them to.

Suddenly, they were face and face and John thought his heart might explode from his chest. Sherlock was so close he could hear their shared ragged breath and feel Sherlock's on his face. And maybe if he was older and wiser, John would have stepped back, away from this mad man. Maybe if he was more reserved or logical, he would have broken Sherlock's gaze. But he didn't. John Watson stood there in front of Sherlock Holmes and despite all the alarms going off in his head, John leaned forward and pressed his lips against Sherlock's.

Finally, right?! ;) However, I do warn that the next few chapters will take a bit of a darker turn, but in the meantime, hopefully you guys enjoyed this lovely bit of actual happiness. Please do review, follow and favorite if you are enjoying! I love hearing from my readers. It keeps me going!