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Chapter 9

John woke up the next day, to find the flat empty. He'd expected as much, as he knew that Sherlock would still be working with Lestrade on the case and all the extra post-case work like statements and such. John thought about the hug last night, and contemplated the softer side of Sherlock that he so rarely showed anyone else. He chuckled a bit as he pictured Sherlock's facial-expression if he knew that John called him soft. At that moment his alarm went off, and he crawled out of bed towards the bathroom, to try and remove the sleep from his eyes with a shower, and get ready for work.

John was in a really good mood when he got home. One of the surgeons at the hospital was ill, and John had to step in. He hadn't operated in years and, inappropriate as it was, John found it immensely fun and satisfying. It was a lot of different from his usual days which mostly consisted in headaches, colds and, if it was a lucky day, maybe a sprained ankle. He stepped into the flat, humming a song he'd heard some time during the day. He even managed to ignore the fluttering in his stomach he got when he saw Sherlock, and just greeted him cheerfully as he started to prepare dinner for them.

"You seem to be in a good mood John" Sherlock said, sounding both amused and a bit surprised.

"I got to go into surgery today, and I haven't done that in years. It was fun actually; it's what I'm actually trained to do." John replied as he took out pots and pans from the cupboard.

"Ah I see. If I had known you got such satisfaction just by cutting in people, Maybe I should have put you up as a suspect on a few cases" Sherlock joked.

"Oh right, how did it go today? Is the case closed?"

"They picked her in about half an hour after I called them; she was practically waiting for it. She hadn't even struggled or tried to deny any of the crimes. And today at the hearing she answered all the questions truthfully. Now it's just the trial left, but it's pretty obvious how that is going to turn out. She really managed to turn an interesting case into the most boring after-work. Dull." Sherlock said, clearly annoyed at the lack of denial or anything that could have made it more fun, in his opinion. John just smiled to himself, and continued with the food.

They ate in a comfortable silence, John did the dishes and then he sat himself down with a nice cup of tea and a book. Sherlock was sitting opposite, looking at some experiment through his microscope. It was quiet, and peaceful. John should have known it was too good to last.

"How long are you going to ignore the fact that you are in love with me, John?" Sherlock suddenly asked, as calmly as if he had been talking about the weather.

John choked on his tea, but when he finally got his voice back, he couldn't think of anything to say. He felt completely cold inside. It felt like his entire world had crumbled around him, and all he could hear was a voice inside his head screaming "HE KNOWS. SHERLOCK KNOWS. IT'S ALL RUINED. RUINED. RUINED..."

"I'm not…I don't…" John started, but Sherlock cut him off.

"Please don't insult me but trying to lie about such an obvious thing. Do you want me to list all the data I have collected to come up with this conclusion? It's quite an extensive collection."

"No, please don't! God no…" John suddenly understood that it was pointless to keep pretending, and decided that honesty would probably be the best in this case, even though it would cost him his best friend. "I'm sorry Sherlock, I never meant for it to happen, it just…did."

"Why are you apologizing John?"

"Because I know that you have a bit of trouble when it comes to feelings, and I would never dream about pushing anything on you... Listen, I know that you are married to your work and all that, and I'm not asking anything of you."

"John, I…" Sherlock started, but John kept talking, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep the tears out of his voice for much longer.

"It's probably for the best that I move out now, temporary at least. I know what you want Sherlock, and this is not one of those things." John's voice cracked at the end, and without looking at Sherlock he went to his bedroom, pulling out a bag from the closet and started to load it with random clothes. It felt like he was going to break in two. He was angry with himself for not being able to keep his feelings hidden. He had brought this entirely upon himself, but it didn't stop the aching inside as he thought about leaving this, leaving Sherlock. What if they never worked this out, what would he do with his life then? He stopped packing for a moment; his hands were shaking too much. He sensed Sherlock's presence at the door, but he couldn't bare himself to turn around and look at him. The silence was almost deafening, but it was Sherlock who broke it.

"You don't" He just said simply. John had no idea what he meant, and with an internal scream, he turned around so he faced Sherlock. The man looked pale in the evening light, but his eyes were filled with certainty.

"I don't what?" John's voice was barely more than a whisper. It was as if talking out loud would somehow make it worse. He felt like everything had drained out of him the moment he found out that Sherlock knew, and now he just stood there, nothing but an empty shell of the man he was just an hour ago. Sherlock spoke again, and this time with a bit more security.

"You don't know what I want John. Not anymore"

And before John had any time to react to those words, Sherlock quickly closed the distance between them, before he leaned in and kissed him.