Since yesterday had been a complete failure in regards of the 'get John to fall in love with me' plan, Sherlock decided to take a different approach today.

Last night, when they had gotten back to the palace, John had accompanied him to the guest's room and stopped him before he could get inside, gently tugging at his wrist. He had said he couldn't simply fall in love with someone, that the process required time, that a connection had to be made and the people involved had to get to know each other first. He had merely smiled at him, catching his wrist in return and giving it a light squeeze, and left.

Obviously, they didn't have time for all that. They only had two days left, so he would have to get a bit more creative to accelerate the process...

'What's your favourite colour?'

"... Seriously? This is your plan?"

'John, this plan is both simple and efficient. I ask a question, you answer, and then you ask one yourself, and so on. It's really not that hard. Now answer.'

John sighed, throwing his head back. "Blue."

'See? Easy. Mine is purple, by the way.'

"Purple?" The corner of John's lips twitched upwards.

He glared at him, poking him in the stomach with the pen. 'Hush. Go on, your turn.'

"God, I feel like a kid," John muttered under his breath. "What do you like to do?"

'Could you be more specific?'

"Just, in general, Sherlock. What do you enjoy?"

He tilted his head. 'Learning. Mysteries. Your company.'

"I hardly think the last one counts, we've only known each other for-"

He put a hand over John's mouth and scribbled something with the other. 'Don't you enjoy my company?'

John frowned. He took Sherlock's hand in his, taking it away from his mouth, and said, "Of course I do."

'Then what's the problem?'

John shook his head, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Nothing. It's fine."

He looked at John's hand still entwined with his, and then back at John's face, which was now slightly redder.

"Sorry," John said, and was about to let go, but Sherlock held on tighter. John's smile turned softer, and there was a flicker of something in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. "Listen, why don't we go about this some other way? Let's just talk. This isn't supposed to be an interrogatory; we're getting to know each other. It should be more... intimate."

He felt something curling on his chest at John's embarrassed expression, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. But he knew he couldn't, he had to be patient. Pressuring John wouldn't help.

'All right. You begin, then.'

They spent hours talking -or, in Sherlock's case, writing-, whether it was about the small things or more serious matters.

They talked about their childhoods, in which John had openly admitted he had been properly spoiled, while Sherlock had explained how he spent his time terrorizing his parents, escaping from the castle at all times to explore its surroundings; about their relationship with their family, with John telling him how his mother had died while he was still a kid, and the strained relationship he had with his father, and Sherlock saying both his parents had died years ago, and he now had to tolerate an over protective older brother. They talked until nighttime came, about everything and nothing at all, and by the time they went to bed, John smiling brightly at him and kissing him on the cheek, Sherlock knew that there was something, that they had formed a connection.

He was certain that by the end of the third day, John Watson would be in love with him. As certain as he was that he had fallen in love with him already, too.

Author's notes:

Next chapter will be longer, I promise.
Please let me know what you think, if you'd like, and if you see any mistakes. Enjoy x