This chapter may seem a bit slow, but I need to build up their relationship before the action can start. I promise this fic will get better as the chapters progress, please bear with me.

Warnings: Contains slash.

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC. I only own this plot.

Sherlock was in the bathroom, checking his hair. He was about to put some more product in it but considered that to be a bit too gay. Instead, he fixed his collar and smoothed down the front of his shirt.

"Sherlock? Are you ready?" John called from downstairs. He was at the front door, coat in hand, waiting for his, well… What did he call Sherlock now? Boyfriend? It was still the same day they had first kissed. John got called into the clinic though, so the shopping would have to wait until the next day.

"I don't see why you're making such a fuss over this. It's not like Angelo will think it's our first date." The word 'date' sounded rather awkward coming from the detective's mouth as he descended the stairs to join John. He took his long, black jacket from the hook and slipped it over his shoulders, scarf swiftly following.

"Because," John said, shrugging on his own, shorter jacket. "It actually is a date this time." Giving Sherlock a little smile, he opened the door and waited for the taller man to step out. Sherlock hailed a cab and John locked the door.

Settling into the cab, John sat back in his seat and gave the cabbie the name of where they were going. They hadn't been to Angelo's since before the pool incident. Both men were responsible for the other being alive. Since then Moriarty had disappeared.

"John?" Sherlock glanced sideward's at John, eyes inquisitive; almost knowing.

"Mm?"

"What's wrong?" The detective carefully reached his hand across the seat. For someone not used to this sort of thing, Sherlock had seen enough films. He knew what he was doing. Sort of.

"It's nothing." John saw the hand and instinctively put his own just on top of it. "I'm just glad to have you." Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Instead, he carefully fit his hand into John's.

Five minutes later the cab pulled up outside Angelo's and they both got out. Their hands weren't interlocked anymore - it was a bit early for full public displays of affection. Angelo greeted them with his usual smirk and fetched a candle. Instead of sitting at their usual table by the window, John led Sherlock to one of the booths at the back for some privacy.

Once settled and with menu's in hand, they removed their jackets. John couldn't help but give an approving glance over at Sherlock's shirt. In fact, it was John's favourite shirt of Sherlock; the plum purple one that was tight fitting on the detective's slender body. Sherlock looked over and smiled smugly at John.

"You scrub up well." He pointed out, nodding at John's new grey shirt with little feint white patterns on it.

"Thanks. You too." John picked up his menu and scanned it. "What are you ordering?" There was really only one thing John liked on the menu, seeing as most of the things were tomato based and John didn't like tomato unless it was 'spicy tomato soup'.

"I was thinking of the Mediterranean herb soup with the side of bread." As Sherlock said that, one of the waiters came over to take their order. In the end, John went with a creamy carbonara and side of salad. He also ordered a bottle of white wine. Sherlock just had a glass of water.

"You will have some wine, though? I don't want to have it all by myself."

"Maybe. I'll drink water first though." John shrugged and took one of the breadsticks from the table to nibble on it. Sherlock didn't like to drink a lot; it made him act a bit differently. Not in a bad way, though.

Their food arrived some time later. Sherlock looked over his soup and gave it a sniff.

"Eat." John said, pointing to the bowl of green soup with his fork. Rolling his eyes, the detective slowly spooned the liquid into his mouth. Giving an approving sound, more spoonfuls followed. John poured them both a glass of wine and pushed Sherlock's towards him.

"How's the soup?"

"It's fine. Tasty. What about your pasta?"

"Creamy, but very nice. It was the only one not tomato based." John took a sip of his wine, twirling the liquid around the glass. Sherlock did the same, except it was only a small sip. His tongue darted out to lick some of the wine from his mouth and Sherlock glanced at John as he did so. It was unintentional, really, but John couldn't stop the sudden colour that rose to his cheeks. Of course this didn't slip past Sherlock unnoticed and he took a few more drinks of the wine. Slipping his shoe off, Sherlock raised one sock clad foot and ran it slowly from the base of John's leg up to his knee and back down.

Biting his lip to stop from making an undignified noise, John simply put down his fork and looked up at Sherlock. The detective smirked and removed his foot, slipped it back into his shoe and returned it back underneath his chair.

"That was unexpected." John snorted. Slowly, he reached his hand towards the middle of the table. Sherlock reached over his own and fitted it in the doctor's to interlace their fingers.

"I was just seeing your reaction. John, you should know I'm not used to this sort of thing… At all."

"So we'll take it slow. I'm not willing to rush anything, Sherlock." John gave a re-assuring smile, squeezing Sherlock's hand and rubbing his thumb along the edge. Sherlock looked even more sculpted in candle-light, with the soft glow making his cheekbones stand out and his eyes burn brighter.

"Thank you." They ate in silence with their hands still connected across the table. When they were finished their main meal, John glanced down at the menu again.

"Do you want dessert?" He asked half hopefully to Sherlock. The other smiled and shook his head.

"No, but you go ahead." John grinned and scanned the menu. When he wasn't looking, Sherlock took in the doctor's details; the slightly-longer-than-military-standard hair, the dark blue of eyes that have seen much damage and the feint laugh lines around his mouth. The waiter came around and glanced at their hands. He just smiled at them and asked for John's order.

"I'll get a chocolate sundae please." John handed the menu back to the waiter.

"And for you, sir? Coffee? Tea?" The waiter asked Sherlock in his heavy Italian accent.

"I should probably get that wine out of my system." He handed his own menu up. "I'll take a coffee – black, two sugars." The waiter nodded and went on his way.

"Do you want to walk back? It's a nice night." John passed Sherlock his jacket and put on his own as they left Angelo's. Sherlock wrapped his scarf around his neck and secured it in place.

"Yes. The flat's only a ten minute walk away anyway." He looked down at the shorter male and bit his lip for a second. "Come on." They started to walk in the direction of Baker Street, side by side. John leaned in closer to Sherlock and their fingers brushed gently. Tentatively, they began to twine their fingers together.

"There's nobody around to see us." John said, noting the hesitant look on Sherlock's face.

"I know that, John." The taller man offered a smile and gave John's hand a gentle squeeze. The cool night seemed to get just a little bit warmer.

Thank you to the people who story alerted this. I was honestly chuffed, even if it was only a handful. Next chapter coming soon. This was nice and fluffy towards the end, don't you think?

The smut will be coming shortly :P Please leave a review or story alert.