THE END - OPTION TWO:
John walked to Sherlock and stopped right in front of him.
"This matters, Sherlock. So, one last check: you know you can't fool me, right?"
Sherlock sat straighter and met his eyes dead-on: "Yes."
"Good, so don't even try…"
And John went to sit on Sherlock's lap without hesitation. It felt weird — not only because so far John had only experienced this position from the seated-on point of view and therefore associated it with a woman thing to do, but also because he realised with a start that it brought their faces to the same level (he was used to always look up to Sherlock) — but it ensured him the best way to get to Sherlock's heart (John had unconsciously shied away from taking Sherlock's pulse, since the last time he had tried it there had been none to find; and the neck points weren't the most practical place to check when you intended to kiss someone); and right now, it was the only thing that mattered.
Sherlock had put his hands up somehow when John had sat down and didn't seem to know what to do with them now, so John brought them to rest on his legs. Then John placed a firm hand right above Sherlock's heart : "…because I'll know what you feel."
They were gazing at each other in the dark, and Sherlock did seem tense. He looked resolved though, and John prepared for the biggest leap of faith he might have ever taken, focusing on the slowly yet undeniably accelerating pulsing rhythm under his hand.
One beat.
Two.
Ten.
Waiting for a sign - wanting Sherlock to be the one to start it somehow; needing another proof that Sherlock actually wanted it.
Twelve.
Fourteen.
"Joh-"
And John closed his eyes and finally pressed their mouths together in a chaste kiss, simply capturing Sherlock's lower lip between his own for a short time. And yet, John felt himself tremble – oh the force of such a simple touch !
Sherlock's heart missed a beat. Then restarted, stronger still.
John let go of the kiss and searched for Sherlock's eyes, whispering : "You all right?"
Sherlock seemed to be still processing it, but then he smiled that half smile that reached his eyes and nodded, and placed one of his hands above John's heart as he shyly (remember we are talking about Sherlock!), eyes wide open, went to capture John's lower lip between his own - the mirroring of his last moves making John's heart both break and swell.
Damn. They were doing nothings - and it affected him more than his whole sex life combined. It was honestly scary, the power that man had over him. But John wouldn't trade it for anything.
Sherlock cast his eyes down as he retreated, as if afraid to have misperformed (seriously?), and John gently "Hé"'d him back to him before nuzzling in to take Sherlock's upper lip this time between his own, following the line of its underside with the tip of his tongue.
They parted, and Sherlock swiflty went to mirror him once more - and John heard himself moan as Sherlock's tongue gently licked along his lip.
Their heartbeats weren't in sync, of course, but they couldn't lie – and they were both clearly indicating the same results. This time, Sherlock's eyes didn't escape John's as he let go.
On and on they kissed, here and there, eyes mostly open, analysing (Sherlock) and drinking in (John) the other's reactions : heart rhythms fastening; pupils dilating; body temperature rising; sweet, intimate noises - they sure both were on the same page.
And when their tongue finally met, sort of accidently, just tip to tip, they both moaned. John could swear that kissing had definitely never been that exhilarating, that powerful. John never wanted it to end.
Little by little, Sherlock grew more certain, his free hand roaming up on John until it tangled in John's hair, his kisses more demanding, and John answered in kind, his own free hand, which had till then stayed on Sherlock's shoulder, finally reaching for those damn perfect curls and curling in and urging Sherlock's head up as he pressed up then down in order to dive even deeper and -
Sherlock gasped. John froze.
John had delibarately from the beginning left a space between their bodies, not wanting his more than probable erection (he had felt blood run south the moment Sherlock had said that they should kiss, to be honest) to make Sherlock think he should go further than what he might have wanted - kissing was kissing, and more than fine in itself. But Sherlock was undeniably hard by now too. Harder than John was, even. And John couldn't help but panick because he remembered Sherlock's confession about his one time masturbating; so what if Sherlock didn't want THAT and had been so focused on John that he hadn't realised what was happening to him until now and-
John moved backwards, disentangling himself from Sherlock. "We should stop."
Sherlock's hands instinctively gripped at him - "No" - and then loosened, Sherlock realising what he had just done/said and searching for John's eyes, now uncertain again : "I mean, unless you want to, of course."
John shook his head, smiling and pressing Sherlock's hand back against his heart before it could leave it : "Do I seriously have to gratify this with an answer?" John exhaled. "It's just... I want you to know that we can stop whenever you want, Sherlock." John eyed Sherlock very, very seriously. "Promise me, Sherlock. It gets too much, you tell me. It's fine."
Sherlock took some time to answer, and John was grateful for it, no matter the tension. Sherlock was actually thinking it through and not simply jumping ahead.
"Deal."
And Sherlock gripped John's shirt and brought John back closer.