New chapter, everyone :D
It was fun writing this chapter, don't know why /D
I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it ^^

I just realized this story is already over 10,000 words long - I never thought it would be that long!
And we're still not done X'D

Sherlock was on the edge.
They had been back at Baker Street for hours now and he still hadn't solved the murder.

There was something he had missed, something he hadn't thought of and he had no idea what it could be.
He just couldn't think properly, his mind was otherwise occupied.

The truth was that his brain always wandered to John.
He tried to concentrate on the murder, think of nothing except the clues and his traitorous brain would somehow connect them with John – not with the case like it should, but with John.

It was 2 AM and it felt like he would become mad any minute by now.
He wanted to march around the flat, throw objects against the wall and see them break into pieces, he wanted to take his violin and torture the most horrible sounds from it, but he knew it wouldn't help him (he had tried).

Sherlock sat up and put his face into his hands.
He couldn't go on like this. His work mustn't suffer under something his brain (and his body!) did to him.
It was really unbelievable. All these years his body had been just transport, he had been in full control and nothing could change that.

And now there was John.
John who was different from everyone before.
John who could still surprise him after living together for quite some time already.
John who had changed Sherlock's life without him noticing it.
John who fit so perfectly to Sherlock that everyone thought they were a couple.
John who didn't leave no matter what crap Sherlock threw at him.

John.

Sherlock couldn't imagine a life without John anymore.
Had he really once lived alone without John and thought that would be the best?
He had never been so wrong in his entire life.

John was everything.

Sherlock raised his head.
His mind was racing with thoughts, drawing conclusions at lightning speed and putting pieces together.

No. That couldn't be.
It was not possible.

John had already invaded every part of Sherlock's life and now he was even evading ones that Sherlock hadn't known of that they existed?

At this moment he heard footsteps on the stairs.
John was padding down the stairs.

Sherlock frowned. This was very unusual behaviour for John.
Normally the doctor would sleep at least until early morning and even if he couldn't sleep, John always stayed in his room pretending (Sherlock knew if John slept or not; it was easy to tell, but John didn't need to know that).

But now John was scuffling into the kitchen.
Sherlock inconspiciously turned his head and watched John, only wearing boxer shorts and a shirt, standing in the kitchen and preparing tea in the middle of the night (how very British).
However, John seemed to be very sleepy, because he spilled most of the hot water next to his cup and then dropped the tea towel.
Bracing himself on the counter, he bent down and gave Sherlock a perfect view of his muscular arse in his boxers.

Sherlock felt a strange stir in his pyjama pants.
Really?
Irritated, he looked down.

He didn't like this, his body doing whatever it wanted and reacting to John in these annoying ways.
It was horrible.
Hopefully, John would go back to bed now that he got his tea and leave Sherlock to his thoughts.

But John was still standing in the kitchen, carefully sipping his hot tea.
Sherlock turned his head away.
This shouldn't look so ... inviting.

John's lips against the cup looked soft and enticing, just like they had felt in the cab.
Would they feel the same now? Would the kiss make him feel the same?
He would love to know if it had been a onetime thing or if it was something about John that made kissing him feel that nice.

Sherlock snorted at himself.
He sounded really pathetic. And he was in the middle of a case for God's sake!
He was that close to solving a really exciting case and all he could think about was John Watson's lips!

John still hadn't gone back to bed, but was now sitting down on the armrest of the couch, next to Sherlock, the empty cup of tea already put into the sink.

"Sherlock."

Sherlock ignored him.

"Sherlock, I know you are listening."

When had it come so far that John Watson could read him so well?

"Fine. Then don't answer. But I will talk to you anyway."

John stood up and started pacing up and down, apparently trying to find the right words.
Sherlock could practically hear him thinking.

Best not to take notice. Maybe he will stop and leave Sherlock alone.

But John didn't.
He continued walking, sometimes stopping, opening his mouth to speak and then changing his mind, starting pacing again.

This went on for 10 minutes and it irritated Sherlock enormously.

Sherlock knew exactly what John wanted to talk about: The kiss.

It was obvious from the way he couldn't decide for the right words and always changed his mind at the last moment.
John wanted to apologize, to make sure everything was alright between them, but Sherlock couldn't care less that John had kissed him.
In fact, he wanted him to do it again – but John didn't know that, did he?

John paused again and Sherlock couldn't take it anymore.
He couldn't take John's endless worry which made him unable to think clearly.
He couldn't take John walking up and down in front of him, presenting himself perfectly for Sherlock in just boxer shorts and shirt, showing off his muscular body that was normally hidden under unflattering jeans and those hideous jumpers and making something stir inside of Sherlock that hadn't since teenage.
He couldn't take his own thoughts wandering, going round and round in circles and never finding a solution.

He couldn't take this whole situation anymore.

At that moment, something inside of him snapped.
Suddenly, it wasn't important anymore that he was in the middle of a case.
It was useless information that it might be better to talk to John.

He stood up and went over to John.

One step. Still time to change your mind.
Two steps. If you turn right now, it will seem as if you just want to walk into the kitchen.
Three steps. John looks puzzled.
Four steps. Invading his personal space.
Five steps. Body against body. Only thin layers of fabric between them.

John looked up into his face.
Sherlock could see the confusion in his eyes melting away as his pupils dilated.

They stared into each other's eyes.

Blue.
So unbelievably deep blue.

And then Sherlock bent down and kissed John.

It wasn't like their first kiss. Not at all.

Sherlock's kiss was confident and although John obviously needed a moment to process what was happening, Sherlock didn't pull back for even a second.
He moved his lips against John's, trying to figure out what it was that made this so special.

Then John reciprocated and Sherlock's mind shut down.
It wasn't important anymore why he was doing this, the only thing that mattered was that he kept kissing John and never stopped.
His stomach was fluttering again and his blood sang with happiness.

Their lips fit perfectly against each other as if they had been made only for this and Sherlock couldn't remember ever feeling so complete.

John's hands were cupping his face by now and Sherlock's had settled on the small of John's back.
He could have gone on forever like this when he felt John's tongue against his lips.
Sherlock hesitated only for a second and then opened his mouth to meet John's tongue with his own.

It was a strange feeling, this dance of their tongues, but every time their tongues met, it sent little sparks through his body and Sherlock's scientific side wanted to explore further.

He changed the angle of his head slightly and took John by surprise by invading his mouth.

It tasted wonderful in there, Sherlock could not remember any flavour as rich as this.
Tea, sugar and something just uniquely John.

But before Sherlock could continue his exploration, John had gathered himself again and started fighting to have his turn in exploring Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock, of course, didn't let him have his way that easily and their tongues started their wild dance again.

John let his fingers run through Sherlock's hair and Sherlock found himself leaning into it unconsciously.

Sherlock had never felt so utterly blissful before.

But like everything in life, this kiss had to end, too.
And this end came in form of the front door slamming closed.

They jerked out of their happy bubble and heard Mrs. Hudson shouting, "And I never want to talk to you again!"

"Seems her date didn't go so well." John said smiling.

"It was obvious that it wouldn't work out from the minute they started dating. He's living in the middle of Africa and wanted her to come with him." Sherlock answered, grinning broadly.

"And you didn't think you should tell her?"

"She said I shouldn't deduce her dates and interfere with them except it was something dangerous. And living in Africa is not really dangerous, is it? Well, they have malaria over there, so –"

"Sherlock, stop it." John tried to look serious, but his smile was back soon enough while they looked into each other's eyes.
And suddenly they were laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

They had just been kissing like there was no tomorrow and now they were talking about Mrs. Hudson's love life.

It took them some minutes to calm down again, then John asked cautiously, "So you're not angry about the kiss in the taxi?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went to the sofa, pulling John with him. John's questions could be so inane sometimes.
"No, I'm not. Why would I kiss you now if I didn't like you doing it earlier in the first place? Seriously John, this question was superfluous."

But John just smiled.
"I'm glad."

Sherlock sat down and could feel John's gaze on him again.
"What is it?" he asked, trying not to sound too annoyed.

"Um ... just wondering ..."
Sherlock turned his head and saw an obvious blush on John's cheeks.
He raised an eyebrow and the blush deepened.

"Just wondering if it is alright then, that I ... kiss you." The words stumbled hastily out of John's mouth as if he wouldn't get them out if he took too long.

Sherlock needed a moment to think about that question. He hadn't thought about it before.
All his brain had concentrated on had been the first kiss and how a second one would be. But now? Did he want to continue this?
Well, the answer to that was rather easy.

"Yes, it's alright." Sherlock said, masking the want he felt behind a blank face.
With a second thought, he added, "But not in public. I don't want these imbeciles from the yard talking about this. And don't overdo it."

John smiled again. "That's fine with me."
Sherlock wasn't sure if he was imagining it, but he had a feeling John could see through his mask of neutrality.

Then John bent down and gave Sherlock a quick peck on the lips. "Goodnight, Sherlock."
With a last smile back, he left the room and went to bed.

Sherlock stared at the door through which John had just went, his fingers on his own lips where just seconds ago John's lips had been.
Then he slightly shook his head, laid down and tried to concentrate on the case again.
There were still a couple of quiet night hours left before the break of the day.