Please read the previous drabble, "Because" before you read this one. They follow each other.
Sherlock cocks his head and gets up from his perch on the bathroom counter to join John on the side of the tub.
"Because what? Help me to understand."
The look on his face is so earnest, no traces of that familiar manipulative smile, that John's defences crumble.
"Because I'm in love with you, you great arsehole."
Sherlock chokes out a nervous laugh, and John pulls back, a hurt expression shadowing his eyes.
"Don't misunderstand. I'm not laughing at you. Well, I am, but not at your confession. Even I know enough about relationships to know that arsehole is not a typical term of endearment. But then, I'm not exactly a typical object of affection, am I?"
"Not in the least, no." John finally looks up to study Sherlock, who is staring back at him intently, an unfamiliar rosy blush highlighting his improbable cheekbones. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I shouldn't have said anything. Now I've gone and made things all strange."
Sherlock slides along the lip of the tub, closing the gap between them.
"John, you should know by now, I thrive on strange. And apparently," his voice falters slightly "so do you." Tentatively, he reaches out and strokes John's cheek with one finger.
It's then that everything changes. Then when John realises he isn't alone. That Sherlock, too, is completely besotted.