AN: Hehe, I love seeing all the reviews :) I love you guys and I just want to do a shoutout to V. Evergreen, Daddy'sHadEnoughNow and thisisforyou because they're awesome :) I apologise for any factual inaccuracies, I tried my best to research u_u;

It's the end of The Name Game :) Next chapter will be fluffy.

CHAPTER 9

The room upstairs was by far the coldest and the darkest of them all, but a sweet smell masked the stench of the corpse below. It was large and almost empty, except from a chair in the corner, and on that chair was a man. Sherlock approached the chair cautiously as he was unable to identify who it was in the low light, but it was evident that the man was the source of the sweet scent. As he drew closer, he could hear the muffled sound of laborious breathing.

"Who is it?" Sherlock asked, he had deduced that there was no hostility,

"...!" The man tried to cry out, but no words formed - only a weak wheeze. Sherlock stood close to the man, and untied the cloth around his mouth and placed it in his pocket,

"Sherlock!" He spluttered. It was John, and John had never been happier or more relieved to see another person.

"John!" Sherlock embraced John with relief, and quickly took him into a brighter room to inspect the damage done. The sweet scent intrigued Sherlock as it lingered on John. Sherlock swiped a sample from John's face, who blushed slightly as he did so, and tasted it. The deduction did not take long, Sherlock had already been told what it was beforehand. It was antifreeze. Panic struck him like a thunderbolt, but he kept a calm exterior, so as not to arouse suspicion from John. He breathed heavily and his soft eyebrows furrowed, "Are you all right?" he asked with a small smile,

"Don't worry, I've had worse." He chuckled unconvincingly as he tried to make it down the stairs. He didn't want to worry Sherlock any more, so he carefully placed each foot in front of the other. Focusing on his feet, John soon found himself off the ground as two long, graceful arms carried him. As he looked up, whilst trying to orientate himself, he was met with the sight of the same stoic expression on his roommate's face. It may have been the dizziness getting to him, but he couldn't help but wrap his arms around Sherlock's neck, and he never wanted to let go. Sherlock felt the same, but the heart aching fear of what might happen to John stifled his joy.

Rejoining the rest of the police, the two were met shock, laughter and flash photography, "The prince returns with his princess," Anderson sneered,

"Oh shut up Anderson and do your flies." Sherlock jeered back, "Not everyone needs to know about your quick romp with Sally in the office." Anderson did as he was told, red with embarrassment.

The flat felt empty now that John was recovering at St. Barts, but Sherlock was happy that the antifreeze was so dilute. As he inspected the words on the cloth that was on John's mouth previously, Moriarty was here. It reminded Sherlock of juvenilic graffiti that he had seen on the streets, and was written in a children's non-toxic pen. "Why? And who is Moriarty?"

He stared.

and stared.

and stared.

Nothing came to mind after hours of thinking. Sulking, he left 221b and went to the hospital. He needed a break.

John slept peacefully in the hospital, and he had a strange dream: He was in bed, and ill - exactly lie he was in his current wake, but he was in his own room. He enjoyed the familiarity of it and the sight of Sherlock by his side calmed him. The dream was so vivid he could almost take the peculiar concoction that Sherlock made not too long ago for him. He felt warm and happy and he - he kissed Sherlock, and attempted more. John woke up abruptly, realising it wasn't just a dream. It was a memory of when he was ill, and it had slowly drifted back into his mind. He finally understood Sherlock's recent icy behaviour.

Unfortunately, John didn't have much time to come to terms with his action before the man that irked him had entered his room, "Sh-Sherlock, you didn't have to come," John said as he tried to keep his cool, but Sherlock's deductive ability pierced through is farce in an instant,

"Ah, it seems you've remembered what happened." Sherlock walked towards the chair adjacent to John's hospital bed, while the small patient stayed silent. "It's ok, you can pretend it never happened," Sherlock placed his hand over John's and smiled, while his heart ached at his own comment.

"Wait!" John exploded, "that's not your decision." He himself didn't know what he was saying, but the words came out nonetheless, "I.. I want to think about it. It happened didn't it?" he blushed profusely, "I'm not gay or anything, but I didn't mind the kiss..." he intertwined his fingers into Sherlock's rested hand and fiddled with them thoughtlessly as he became nervous, "Just... just give me time. Please."

Sherlock couldn't help but grin ear-to-ear, and he began to play with John's hand in return, "Thank you." He said with an unfamiliar sincerity

AN: After writing this I just found out that antifreeze is odourless. I'M SORRY u_u; just pretend it has a smell, for me? :3

Cheers :D