So here is my new chapter. I hope you like it. I just want to say thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourite or alerted my story, it means a lot to me. Now on with the story!

Sherlock looked absolutely flabbergasted as he entered, his gaze fixed on John.

For a moment John wished he had brought his camera, just so he could have a look at this whenever he wanted. Or to show at Greg when Sherlock acted like a prick again. Or put it on the blog… Well, he didn't have one, so no use in dwelling on that

"I'm sorry, I think I misunderstood you." Sherlock said, regaining his posture. "Where is your date? Did he stand you up? Not a good start is it?"

"No, that's why it's good you made it, isn't it?" John grinned cockily. "And you know you understood me just fine. Now have a seat, I've been getting pity looks from the waiters for the last fifteen minutes."

"You're on a date… with me?" Sherlock said, looking rather confused.

"Oh, so you're brain has decided to join us. Joy."

"You didn't find it necessary to inform me?"

John rolled his eyes. "No. I've been trying to subtly seduce you for the past four months. Clearly it didn't work, so I've decided to be bold."

"You should have told me…" Then the consulting detective seemed to catch on to what he was saying. "Wait, you've been trying to seduce me? Why?"

"Why do people seduce others?" John replied, smiling up at Sherlock, his eyes soft. "Because I like you and I want to date you. You think you'd like that too?"

"I'd love that." Sherlock quickly sat down, looking up at John as she adjusted his coat to sit comfortably, loosening his scarf slightly.

"Someone's quite eager," John was so relieved Sherlock was there, sitting in front of him, on a real date.

"The heart wants what the heart wants." Sherlock softly murmured, looking at John.

"Sorry, what?" John raised his hand to order.

Sherlock's back straightened and he sat back, his familiar Sherlock-like posture returning. "Nothing, just pretend you didn't hear anything. So, are you hungry?"

"Don't forget I've been sitting here for an hour, surrounded by all these lovely smells. I can't wait to dig into it." John said as if it was obvious.

"So, how are you going to pay for this?" Sherlock tried to make small talk. "These dishes cost an average of £16.35, which is above you're normal spending rate."

"I know, but it's a special date, isn't it?" John did enjoy the way he was able to make Sherlock blush. "I've been saving for a while and now I know I'm going to enjoy them. So shall we?"

"Let's."

"So…how is it possible to poison someone by red ants?" John asked curiously, looking across the table at Sherlock. "I didn't even know you could die from their poison."

"Normally, you can't, because their dose is too small. But when you buy the pure poison on the black market, it's a piece of cake." Sherlock replied, lacing his hands together and placing them on the table. "She put the poison in their drinks and after they died, she set up the entire scene."

"But what with the closed windows and doors?"

"Ah, there comes the stupidity from the Yard across." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "They forgot to notice that it was the kind of window you can open from the inside only and locks down after its shut. Really, they should be so grateful to me."

"They are. Well, Lestrade is at least. For multiple reasons." John smiled.

"I think I'm missing the joke here." Sherlock looked a bit grumpy (and SO cute!) not knowing something John most obviously does. "What's going on?"

"You mean you don't know? You really don't know?"

"Obviously, otherwise I would've told you wouldn't I?"

Sherlock huffed, looking across at John with a slightly miffed gaze. "Well, you could've thought it wasn't necessary to share. Or you could've been too disgusted to tell me."

"Tell you what exactly?"

John caved. "Just promise not to let this ruin our date okay?" John reached over to grab Sherlock's hand.

"Fine!" Sherlock was too transfixed on John's touching his, holding his, to fully concentrate on what John said. It was different to lacing his own fingers together; John's hands were a little rougher, battle worn…

"Okay. Lestrade is dating your brother."

"Good for him." Sherlock said instantly, still too amazed by the heat that John's hand caused and how he still got chills running down his spine to immediately grasp what John said. But once it hit him, it hit him full force. "What!? Why? When? How?" Everything came out in one single breath, no way of controlling it, never mind stopping it.

John just smiled, looking across at Sherlock affectionately. He was so cute when he was flustered. "Lestrade and your brother are dating. Because they love each other; they have for four years. And to your how-question, if you keep your promise I hope you'll know by the end of the night."

Sherlock's head shot up immediately, red as a lighthouse. "Yes, uhm, in that case, I see no other options than to keep my promise."

'God, how sweet is he,' John thought. He couldn't seem to get the image of this blushing Sherlock out of his mind. Not that he tried very hard.

"Good. That's what I thought." And he softly squeezed Sherlock's hand "Now continue to focus on out date instead of theirs."

"They're on a date." Sherlock enforced. "Like in right now. As in, if I call Lestrade right now, I would annoy both Lestrade and my brother?"

John's smile dropped momentarily. "Yes, you would. You would also be sitting here alone. Pick the one you want the most."

"So, on with the date." Came the rapid reply.

And if they both felt some butterflies in their stomach because of how good the sound of us sounded, it wasn't mentioned. Neither was it mentioned that, although they had to release their hands when dinner arrived, they quickly moved so their legs would touch. It also wasn't mentioned, during the small talk they made all evening, how they couldn't help but smile when they looked at the other.
And it was most definitely not mentioned that even just sharing an ice-cream made their hands go all sweaty.

No, none of that was mentioned, but they were noticed anyway.

When the evening glow turned into jet-black and the streetlights made the stars disappear, they returned home. They were still laughing at the things Sherlock deduced from some of their fellow-costumers, yet things started to change, and things were beginning to get awkward. The eternal question of 'what next' made their hearts and hands burn with desire to hold, yet kept their courage to do it down.

The ride back to Baker Street was a silent one, both searching for the right words, but neither finding them. When they left the cab and Sherlock was already looking for his keys (you'd be surprised how much fitted in those tight jeans pockets), it had all became too much for John. The moment Sherlock wanted to open the door to their apartment, John stopped him. "I think you should know that I've made it a tradition to kiss all my good dates before they enter their houses."

Sherlock looked flabbergasted, shy, excited and a bit wary. "You live here as well, that would be a bit redundant, don't you think?"

"Maybe so, but I still want to…" He took a step closer to Sherlock. He was now close enough to see, despite the darkness still surrounding them, how Sherlock's breathing had increased and how his pupils were dilated. "And so do you."

"Yes, of course I want to. I just… I've never… You know. Kissed someone." Sherlock said quietly; the nervousness in his tone showing.

"Never?"

"How strange it may seem, people tend to find me a freak. An apparently very un-kissable freak."

"Strange, I've never noticed people did." John went along in the joke, to relieve some of the tension. He took a hesitatingly step towards Sherlock "I always found you a very beautiful, smart and funny man…" He softly licked his lips, "…and very kissable." And closed the gap between them.

The feeling was sensational.

John wondered what took them so long. The feeling of Sherlock's lips, how inexperienced they might be, against his own was breath-taking. Escorted by Sherlock's hand that was slowly moving up, to rest in his hair, the other one steadily on his hip; it was all so amazing. He wondered if Sherlock's famous soft curls would be as soft as he imagined it. He couldn't quite grasp the feeling that he didn't have to just wonder anymore; that he was allowed to touch. And god, it was so very soft.

Unconscious he pulled it, wanting to feel more. He felt Sherlock's moan leaving his mouth and he welcomed it whole heartily. The feeling of their tongues colliding was just too much for John. The sigh that left his lips was answered by one of Sherlock's. Soon enough the once quiet hall was filled with all sorts of happy noises.

The only thing able to rip their lips apart was a desperate need for air.

"Wow." Sherlock panted.

"Wow indeed."

Sherlock tilted his head, looking down at John as he practically sucked in the air. "Tell me again, why didn't we do that sooner?'

John answered instantly, with fervour. "Because we are both idiots who are so good in denying what it right in front of them, that they miss how good it can be."

They laughed and finally entered the house, silence on them again. Yet this time it was more a charged silence than an awkward one. Sherlock moved towards his room, suddenly shy again, when he abruptly turned around "Good night John. I had a good time."

John nodded, his eyes softening. "Me too. We should do this again."

"We should."

They stood there for five minutes before Sherlock turned around again and made his way to his bed and slept better than he had done in years. And if there was a camera (which was, let's admit it, very likely) their lenses might have cracked from the illuminating smile he had for the rest of the night.