Sherlock had always prided himself on his ability to read people; to notice tiny insignificant indications which could anticipate their actions, so perceptively that he seemed to know the action before their neurons sent their message of movement to the rest of their body. However, despite this ability to be able to read people's actions, he hadn't expected that from John… not in a million years.

The kiss was brief, but it established an instantaneous link. John drew back first and straight away looked down, hid face flushed crimson. Sherlock felt gobsmacked, his brain had stopped working – it had jammed.

"John?" He croaked finally; John had detached his shoulder out from underneath Sherlock's arm and shuffled about two paces away from him.

"I… Uh…" John seemed slightly surprised by his own actions. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's got into me; I didn't mean that." He apologised, but Sherlock didn't believe that. His heart was pounding so fast that it hurt, and he had completely forgotten about Innes still being in the room.

"Are you sure?" Sherlock had intended for his voice to sound strong, but it came out as a whisper. He knew John was still grieving, and grief could make people do the strangest of things, but that hadn't felt like the actions of a grief stricken man, it had felt genuine… Sherlock closed his eyes, he couldn't dare to hope, he couldn't dare to allow the deeply buried sentiment to rise to the surface purely from the behaviour of someone who wasn't in their right mind…

The weakness in Sherlock's voice overcame John's embarrassment and he looked up at Sherlock; whose eyes were closed as John surveyed his friend. He felt quite unable to explain logically exactly why he had just kissed Sherlock, apart from the reason that he had wanted to, he had just felt that it was right… There was something in Sherlock's voice, a longing which he was clearly trying to hide – and it rose up inside John and hit him in the face. Sherlock had described that his mother considered Sherlock and John to be 'more than just friends', and when he had done so, John could vividly remember Sherlock blushing. It occurred to him now that he had been blushing, not out of embarrassment about what his mum thought, but that he actually did like him…

"I don't know…" John answered honestly, he was so conflicted internally about everything in his life… Everything was upside down, or back to front in his head. He looked at Sherlock and then, unable to hold his gaze, his eyes flickered back down to the ground. He sat down heavily on the sofa, sinking his head into his hands and staring at the floorboards. He wasn't entirely sure of how he felt inside: the numb feeling was present, but there also seemed to be a firm base which had formed some kind of foundation inside him. He gingerly tested his own feelings – the rest of him was in turmoil over his life situation, but this firm base was inexplicable… Sherlock and Innes were solid points in his life, neither of them were about to run out. Yet, he couldn't be sure about his feelings, not now when none of his feelings were reliable. But… what if now was the best time to act upon those feelings that were solid? As if they were solid now, then it was unlikely that they would change…

"John? I'm sorry… I've made this uncomfortable." Sherlock's voice had returned back to its crisp manner, he had turned his attention back to Innes.

"When you said your mother thinks that we're 'more than just friends', is that feeling shared by yourself?" John asked awkwardly, lifting his head up a little.

"We don't have to talk about this right now…" Sherlock insisted, his voice unnaturally high.

"No, but I want to talk about it now!" John hadn't realised how loud or sharp his voice had suddenly gotten, but he realised when Innes made a startled cry at the sound. Sherlock blinked suddenly, obviously as startled at John's outburst as Innes was.

"Okay…" He said slowly.

"Oh… I'm sorry…" John moaned, allowing his head to drop back into his hands. "I… I don't know! I just…" He spoke incoherently. "I feel like I'm falling apart…" He managed to articulate finally; he felt the sofa cushions descend beside him and realised that Sherlock had sat down next to him.

"You're not falling apart, and you're not going to." Sherlock said calmly, John snorted rather sycophantically. "You're not." He insisted. "I'm not going to profess to understand how you're feeling, but I can say that you're not alone. You've got me, and Innes, and Molly, and Lestrade." There was a silence between them as John grappled with himself; he was avoiding letting tears overwhelm him again.

"I don't even know how I feel anymore…" John mumbled miserably. "I just know that it doesn't feel good."

"And that's alright," Sherlock answered, "But it won't last forever."

"But," John continued, stronger now. "I do know that that wasn't a mistake… I'm not so grief stricken that I don't know when something is solid." Again silence pooled for a few moments.

"You don't have to decide anything, you don't have to be sure about anything now." Despite the calmness of his voice, Sherlock seemed to physically twitch.

"But I am sure." John finally mustered the courage to raise his head. "I need to know how you feel about this."

"I'm not upset about it…" Sherlock said slowly, "I can't pretend that. I want you to, to know for definite before we have this conversation."

"I want this conversation now." John's confidence was growing at Sherlock's confirmation, and for the first time in days he felt something other than the cold numbness which had filled him recently – it was a tiny flutter of happiness. "Do you want..?" He started and stopped, then began again. "Would you like to be 'more than just friends'?" The question lingered for a second.

"If that's what you want, yes…" Sherlock replied. "Is it… what you want?"

John didn't vocally reply, but leaned forwards upon the sofa and kissed Sherlock again. The time Sherlock wasn't stunned into disbelief; one of his arms wrapped around John's shoulder and he was blissfully kissing John back.

"You're really good with him…" John commented, trying to keep the hint of jealousy out of his voice; Sherlock was making a cup of tea for them both and simultaneously managing to entertain Innes by flicking tiny paper missiles, propelling them hard enough that they soared straight over the baby chair.

"I'm not trying to…" Sherlock answered, pausing as he stirred milk into John's mug. "I'm just doing normal stuff with a baby for an audience."

"He seems to like you better than me…" John mumbled very quietly.

"Of course he doesn't." Sherlock reprimanded firmly, carrying the two mugs across to John. "He's just extremely receptive at the moment."

"What do you mean?" John asked, accepting the mug of tea and looking across at Innes in the baby chair.

"He's a baby…" Sherlock said, taking a sip of his tea, and seeming to think that this explained everything; John had raised his eyebrow trying to express that this didn't explain all. "It's his first priority to attach himself to those who are looking after him – the care bringers, the food providers it is important that they latch onto these people so they can get everything they need, but it also makes them incredibly vulnerable to the feelings of those providers. Innes can probably sense how you're feeling; your anxiousness and your grief, and it will imprint upon him."

"So…" John began slowly. "So he cries because he can tell how I'm feeling?"

"It could be a part of the reason…" Sherlock nodded.

"No wonder he's never stopped crying then." John covered his mouth with his hand. "Oh god… so I'm the reason why he's been so restless and unsettled!"

"No." Sherlock insisted. "It's not because of you… he just is more likely to be more receptive to you because you are important." But it wasn't enough – John had dissolved once more, crumpling in on himself. "John…" Sherlock placed his hand on John's shoulder again, "It is your right to grieve… it is a necessary for the continuation of your health."

"But Innes needs…" John started, but Sherlock cut him off in the calmest way he could.

"Innes needs you, but he needs you whole and able to look after him… and if that means for a while that you can't do that while you sort yourself out and work through your feelings, then he will understand… and I do too."

"How am I supposed to stop this?"

"Stop what?"

"These feelings… this existence!" John replied.

"I can help. If you want me to…" Sherlock offered.

A/N: As always, I'd love to know what you think of this chapter/story so far!

Also, I think I'm coming to the end of this particular story, possibly might have thoughts for a sequel, but I'd still love to know whether you think it's worth continuing!