Chewing his lower lip, Sherlock listened to the clatter of John washing up the breakfast things mingling with the sound of Radio 4.

He'd never really considered himself to be the type of person to actually find himself enjoying the company of another, but lately he had found the companionship pleasing.

To him John Watson was something of an enigma. A doctor and soldier, also benefactor to and leader of a small army of homeless, and he has a matter of fact way of dealing with his blindness, not letting it get in the way of the work he had taken it upon himself to do.

The man himself attracted him in ways he hadn't anticipated too. There was that smile. The first time he'd seen it Sherlock had not only felt reassured, he had felt that for the first time ever someone actually cared what happened to him. That in itself was enough to make him think long and hard about coming clean, about telling him.

Sherlock missed the sound of the radio being switched off, and jumped slightly when John walked in and sat opposite him.

"You okay?" the older man asked.

Sherlock swallowed convulsively.

"John, there's something you should know." He said reluctantly. "I'm the scientist that's been working on separating the drugs from the compound chemical binder."