For the first few days after they returned to the flat from Baskerville it felt impossibly cramped with tension. John was still sore about the whole 'I have no friends' thing. It really hurt and even though Sherlock had more than made up for it he was still hurting. He pushed it to the back of his mind, hoping that he wouldn't have to face the reasons why just yet.
Sherlock gave him his space, not really asking him to work on cases, not acting like a crazed loon over cigarettes. It was peaceful and lonely.
John was sitting at his computer, staring at a blank blog post when Sherlock whirled into the flat like a tornado. John could almost feel his partner's fuming anger. "Rough day at the Yard?"
"That Anderson is an imbecile! He miscalculated the time of death window by at least three hours. I swear he almost let the man off scot-free." He stood in the door way, too frustrated to move.
John set down his paper, trying to keep the frown from his face. "Why didn't you text me?"
"No time," Sherlock deflected.
"There was always time before."
Sherlock turned to John. "You… You haven't said good morning to me for the past week."
"What?"
"Good morning. You use to say good morning every day except days when you were cross. I assumed that, given recent events, you were cross with me and... I was giving you space. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? Give friends space when they need it?"
John groaned. "What I don't need is you coming home in a rage because Anderson is useless."
"But do you need space?"
John looked his friend in the eye and felt his resolve wavering in those big blue eyes. When did he start to notice those anyway? He looked away quickly and sighed. "No, Sherlock, I don't need space. Since when has my space been your concern?"
Sherlock smiled in a way that was almost warm. "You are always my concern. The problem is I never really know how you're going to react." When John blushed and looked away, Sherlock chuckled. "No need to be embarrassed, John. I do love a good mystery." John tried his best to stop blushing like a school girl and be indignant about the whole thing but Sherlock was suddenly in his face. "There it is again. That's twice now."
John racing heart calmed rather quickly at the abrupt subject change. "What?"
"That look."
"I seriously do not know what you are talking about."
"Lying again." Sherlock grabbed his wrist, searching his face. John furrowed his brow.
"You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The grabbing my hand thing."
"I am not grabbing your hand; I am grabbing your wrist."
"Well, stop it."
"Can't. Have to be sure."
"Be Sure of what?
"Sure you are lying." Sherlock leaned back a bit, looking perplexed. "For my purpose is that the truths be glimpsed and then again be concealed," He whispered. Leaning in again, his hand slowly slipped down into John's and the once army doctor nearly jumped out of his skin. Sherlock beamed in triumph. "There it is. There."
"If invading my space is-"
"You find me arousing."
John gawked in what could only be a severely unattractive manner. "Are you out of your head?"
"Of course not; that would be messy, difficult, and painful." Sherlock squeezed John's hand tentatively. "I wonder…" John could see Sherlock's face begin to move in but couldn't make himself move or turn away, and when Sherlock pressed his lips to John's he just sat there and let it happen. At first it was only a light pressure but Sherlock suddenly insisted on Watson to participate. John found his fingers in Sherlock's messy brown mop and felt long fingers grab his sides and pull him to the edge of the chair. Sherlock tasted like nicotine and scones. He'd try and remember to be cross with him about smoking but it was hard to concentrate with Sherlock pressed against him and their tongues dancing doing the tango.
Finally the consulting detective came up for air and dislodged himself from his doctor. Sherlock shakily leaned back and sat on the carpet in front of John, looking up at him. John opened his mouth to speak but his voice cracked and he immediately shut it.
"Well… That is not exactly what I was expecting."
"You didn't intend to snog me?"
"No… But I can't say that it was an unwelcome surprise."
John turned red as a tomato once more. "You are insufferable."
"If you wish for time to think on it I will return to giving you space." Sherlock stood to go, but John quickly grabbed his sleeve. The taller man looked back at him. Slowly Sherlock kneeled before him again a smirk tugging at the corner of his kiss swollen lips. "You know what's funniest of all?"
"What?"
"Hormones. Adrenaline. Pheromones. My brain is running through all the physical things that make me want you and yet…" Sherlock ran his knuckles down John's cheek and he instinctively leaned into the caress. "When I look at you my chest gets tight and breathing becomes hard. I don't know what to do with myself sometimes and I can't believe all that simple chemistry can do that to me." His smirk finally made an appearance. "Vince was dead wrong. I am so in love with you it hurts."
John inhaled to steady his temper. "Vince was a manipulative bastard who didn't deserve your time or affection."
"Third times the charm."
John raised an eyebrow. "Third?"
"When I was four I was dead set on marrying my brother."
John snorted unable to contain his amused reaction.
"It's not funny. I didn't realize the incestual undertones and repercussions-" John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock to shut him up.
"John! I heard Sherlock having a fit! Is everything alright?" They heard Mrs. Hudson on the stair and quickly separated from each other, John grabbed his paper and Sherlock his violin. Later John would have to tell Sherlock why suddenly jumping into a song is not 'looking natural'. When the landlady appeared she had a perplexed look on her face. "Well hello boys, I expected you to be having a row. Since you've been cross with Sherlock this past week-"
"I have not been cross." John said it a little too quickly, drawing the older woman's eyes to him. She stared for a minute, looking suspicious then smiled with what could only be glee.
"Oh! Well, I'm just going to get back to the tellie then. You two have fun." She winked at John and went back down stairs.
John exhaled. "She knows. Oh, lord and biscuits, she knows. Suppose she thinks we're going to go shag now that she's left us alone."
"We aren't?"
John's heart nearly stopped. "Sherlock! We've only just kissed!"
"Well, if you say so. I won't press… But we will get to that eventually right?"
John threw a book at Sherlock, turning red but grinning like an idiot.