So things all went a bit Johnlock....

SH: Sherlock hopped off the couch where he had been lying for the past few hours, waiting for John to arrive home. He practically ran to the door, unlocking and wrenching it open in under a second -- excited that John was home after such a long and dull day.
"Finally." He declared, ushering John inside and closing the door behind him.

JW: "Thanks," said John, rubbing his hands to warm them up as he followed Sherlock up the stairs to their flat. "Oh, here's your new phone by the way." he added, handing him the brand new Blackberry box. "Try not to destroy it quite so quickly as you did the last one."

SH: Sherlock took the box from John with a smirk. "It wasn't I who destroyed it. It was really a combination of efforts. Partially from the brainless thug who knocked me off my feet, partially from the concrete floor I landed on. My phone simply got caught in between."
Sherlock leaped up the steps to their flat, taking them two by two. At the top, he glanced back down at John. "Do hurry up, John. The tea will get cold."

JW: "You've made tea?" John asked, surprised, as he finally made it to the top of the stairs. "Are you trying to get round me or something? You hardly ever make the tea."

SH: Sherlock cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I thought you might want some when you got back."
He scratched the back of his neck with one hand, the other holding the still unopened phone box. "I /am/ capable of doing nice things for people without an ulterior motive, you know."

JW: "I know you are," admitted John, feeling a bit guilty for making fun of his friend. He sat down in his favourite armchair and started taking his shoes off. "I'd love a cup of tea actually Sherlock. Thank you."

SH: Sherlock nodded quickly and walked off into the kitchen, glad to be able to do something for John for a change. John always did so much for him, he just wanted to do something -- even if it was a small thing like making tea -- that John would appreciate.
He poured the still steaming water into a mug, feeling pleased with himself for timing John's arrival so that the tea would be ready precisely when he got home. Sherlock added a bit of sugar, not bothering with the milk, and then delivered it to John in the sitting room. He sat down in his chair and studied John carefully, deducing different things about his day as he sipped his own cup of tea.

JW: The cup of tea wasn't exactly how John liked it but he decided not to say anything. He didn't want to upset Sherlock after he'd  been thoughtful and gone to the trouble of making it for him. Instead he took a sip and smiled. "It's nice. Thanks. So how was your day?"

SH: Sherlock shrugged and set his tea on the side table. "Oh, you know. Dull. The usual." He shifted in his seat, pulling his legs up to his chest. "Yours?" He asked, chin resting on his knees and hands clasped in front of them.

JW: John regarded Sherlock thoughtfully for a moment. "I'm pretty sure you've just deduced everything about my day simply by looking at me.
"He yawned. "It was quite boring actually. Slow. Only a handful of patients with uninteresting symptoms."

SH: "Of course I have. But I also know you prefer me not to 'assume' anything." Sherlock said neutrally. He watched as John yawned widely, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. It was quite amusing when John yawned. Quite... Sherlock couldn't find the right word for it.
"You're not too tired to play poker, are you? I prefer my opponents to be challenging, not half-asleep."

JW: John put his cup of tea down on the table. “No,† he replied. “I’m not too tired for poker. In fact, I think I might beat you,† he teased. He hadn’t played poker since his army days. He wasn’t sure if he could even remember the rules, nevermind beat Sherlock.

SH: Sherlock scoffed. "Highly improbable. But I suppose we'll see, won't we?" He uncurled from his wound up position and reached a hand into his pocket, producing a worn looking set of cards that had obviously seen better days.
He tossed them to John and pulled his chair closer, getting up momentarily to push the table in between them. "You can deal." He grinned, falling back into his chair. Poor John didn't know that Sherlock /always/ won at poker.

JW: "OK," said John, catching the pack of cards Sherlock had thrown to him and shifting slightly in his seat. This should be interesting. "I'll deal. That's if I can remember how..." He began to shuffle the cards.
"What are we using for bets?" he asked. "Real money?" He was suddenly a bit worried he might end up losing all his wages to his flatmate. Sherlock seemed fairly confident about the game.

SH: Sherlock waved a hand at John's suggestion. "If you want." He smirked. "But I'm sure we could come up with something else if you'd rather not." He told him. Though to be honest, he wasn't entirely sure what that 'something else' would be. Nothing decent came to mind, anyways.

JW: John checked his pockets but couldn't find any loose change, and he certainly wasn't going to risk playing with notes.
"Yeah I guess something else'll have to do," he agreed, frownling slightly as he saw the smirk on Sherlock's lips, unable to read the wicked glint he saw in his eye. He was definitely up to something.

SH: "Hmm... we could play it the way Mycroft and I used to." Sherlock said musingly. "Mummy forbid us from betting money, so we bet other things. Usually in the form of dares -- whoever won had the power to make the other person do whatever they wanted. Whoever lost had to go along with it, no matter what it was." Sherlock grinned, thinking back to those memories fondly -- he hadn't deleted /those/, no, those were being carefully saved for future blackmail purposes.

JW: "Right," John nodded. "Kind of like strip poker." Wait hang on, did he just say that? He felt himself blushing. "I mean...some people used to play that at Uni...not me obviously but I...heard about it," he stammered.
It was hopeless. He could already see Sherlock smirking. He cleared his throat. "I'll deal then." and he focused himself on dealing out the cards.

SH: Sherlock's smirk stayed on his face as he watched John deal the cards. He liked it when John was embarrassed; it made his face turn pink all the way up to his ears and Sherlock found that very...
Interesting.
Strip poker, hm? Sherlock made a mental note of it as he leaned back into his chair and waited for John to finish dealing.

JW: John finished dealing the cards, put the rest of the deck down and sat back in his armchair, trying to get over his previous stupid remark. He picked up his own cards and glanced at them. 10 of clubs and a 7 of diamonds. Hmmm. Not the best start in the world. He tried to hide his disappointment but was worried Sherlock could read every little detail on his face.

SH: Sherlock picked up his cards, narrowing his eyes for a moment, as something popped into his head. "Since we are betting on something intangible and we don't seem to have any chips, I suggest we find a suitable replacement."
He jumped up and placed his cards face-down on the chair, disappearing into the kitchen. He returned momentarily, carrying a bowl of M&Ms. "Mrs. Hudson brought these over earlier as an attempt to stop me from shooting more holes in the wall." He said, as an explanation. He counted out two equal piles of the small, round candies, taking one pile for himself and pushing one over to John.
"Now that we have that settled, I believe it's my turn." Sherlock grabbed his cards and sat down, giving them a quick glance before turning back to study John's face. His expression didn't reveal as much as Sherlock had hoped, but he could tell that John wasn't overly excited about his cards.
He looked down at his own again -- they were awful really, all under 10, but Sherlock knew how to bluff. He let a smile play at the edges of his lips, just barely noticeable, as he looked up at John. He pushed a fourth of his pile into the middle of the table.

JW: John liked the M&Ms idea, although he'd have to watch he didn't absent mindedly eat any of his pile. He watched Sherlock thoughtfully, trying to read him. As always, his face remained a mystery although his actions told him he must have quite a good hand, as he placed a pretty large bet. John's only options were to fold or call. He wouldn't consider raising with the cards he had, and to fold would just mean losing automatically...so he decided to match Sherlock's bet and pushed his share of M&Ms to the centre of the table.
Then he looked up at Sherlock and grinned. "This is fun. Can't believe we've never played before."

SH: Sherlock grinned back at John. "Maybe we would have sooner, if you hadn't insisted playing Cluedo the first time we had a 'game night'." He looked down at the growing pile of M&Ms. Hmm... He wasn't about to let John win now. He took another fourth of his pile and added it to the one in the middle of the table, looking up at John afterwards, curious as to what he would do next.

JW: John shrugged. "I guess I thought you'd like Cluedo, being a detective and everything."
He watched surprised as Sherlock pushed yet more M&Ms into the pot. God, he must have a really good hand, he thought. Surely he wouldn't bluff THAT much. He looked again at his own cards, agonising over what to do. He really didn't think he could beat Sherlock this time. What if he just kept raising the bets?
John sighed and pushed his cards onto the table. "I fold." he muttered, dreading what kind of crazy dare Sherlock had in store for him.

SH: "Yes, well, I might have. If the rules were a bit more complex and allowed for other possibilities." Sherlock reached over and added the pile of M&Ms in the middle of the table to his own pile. He placed his cards down face-up, showing just how much he had been bluffing.
"Oh John, you really don't know what you've gotten yourself into." Sherlock flashed a cat-like grin at him before hopping up and practically skipping into the kitchen, quickly returning and setting before John a shot-glass filled with a clear liquid.
"I've been waiting for somebody to try this on, because you normally refuse to be a part of my experiments. But now that I've won, I'm daring you to drink it." Sherlock watched in anticipation. He'd been working on this for a while now -- it was supposed to remove your inhibitions without shutting down the logical part of your brain, thus rendering you inhibitionless, but not stupid. A sort of truth serum if you will.

JW: John groaned when he saw Sherlock's cards. He really was bluffing! He might have actually won if he'd just kept going. "Damn it Sherlock, you ARE good at this. Might have known."
He turned his head nervously as his friend darted into the kitchen, trying to see what he was up to, then the strange concotion was returned and placed in front of him. John picked it up and inspected it, gave it a sniff. He daren't ask what was in it.
"Well," he said, looking up at the grinning Sherlock. "I know you wouldn't give me anything dangerous...and you did win so...oh God, what am I letting myself in for..." He took a deep breath and knocked back the drink, wincing at its bitter taste.
"Ugh...that's disgusting. What is it?"

SH: Sherlock waved a hand dismissively at John's question. "Nothing important."
He stared at John for a moment, counting down the seconds until his concoction would start to take effect. "How are you feeling, John?" He asked him. There was no reason to be worried, but there was also no reason /not/ to be cautious. It was an experiment after all, any and all data was very important. Sherlock reached over and grabbed John's wrist, checking his pulse rate. Hmm... not too bad, a little higher than normal, but nothing to be concerned about.

JW: John sat back in his chair. "I feel...odd." he replied. It was indeed a strange feeling. "I mean...I don't feel unwell or anything just...I don't know." He couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Sherlock what did you just give me?" he demanded as Sherlock took his pulse. "This is some kind of mad experiment isn't it?"

SH: Sherlock shrugged, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "Possibly." He looked John in the eyes -- this was a potential gold-mine -- wondering what he should ask him first. He settled for something simple, not wanting to chance his success.
"John, tell me: What did you really think of the tea earlier?"

JW: John frowned. Why would he be asking about the tea. Strange. Maybe he'd noticed he'd left half of it still in the cup,
"It was..." he was planning to say 'lovely' but somehow the word just wasn't coming out. He could feel his mind in some kind of inner struggle with itself. "...horrible." he heard himself say.
"What? No I mean..." Why did he just say that? Now Sherlock would be upset. He hadn't meant to say that. "No I meant it was...awful." Christ, what was he saying?
"I mean...ugh..." he gave up.

SH: Sherlock grinned a bit wickedly -- it was working! Perfectly in fact, much better than he had anticipated. "Quite alright, John. Completely understandable." He told him, getting ready to ask control question number two. He had to remind himself to take it slowly; he didn't want John to completely freak out after all.
"John, why do you have such terrible taste in girlfriends?" Sherlock smirked.

JW: John clamped his hand over his mouth to stop himself answering immediately, but the words were already forming before he even had chance to think. "I don't even want a girlfriend, that's probably subconsciously why I pick ones I have nothing in common with on purpose knowing it won't last."
John blushed, hearing what he'd just said, but knowing it was the truth. He hadn't meant to say that at all! What was going on here? Suddenly he saw the empty glass lying on the table and something dawned on him.
"This is all to do with that drink isn't it? There's something in it! What have you bloody done to me Sherlock?"

SH: Sherlock frowned and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table between them. John's answer only served to confuse him, and when Sherlock was confused, he didn't stop trying to make sense of things until everything was clear.
He ignored John's question, instead asking another of his own. "Why do you continue dating if you have no desire for a girlfriend in the first place?"

JW: John was convinced that Sherlock had done something to that drink....it was like some kind of...magic potion that made him say exactly what he was thinking. He tried to be angry with him. He SHOULD be angry, but instead he felt strangely calm as he answered the next question.
"I honestly don't know. Because I'm trying to convince myself I want one. Because I want to make you jealous. Because I feel I should have a girlfriend because that's the normal thing to do. It could be any or all of those reasons or some other reason I haven't even thought of yet."
He took a deep breath, exhausted. He'd never spoke so openly before, it was quite astonishing. And embarrassing. "Damn you Sherlock," he muttered under his breath.

SH: Sherlock wasn't sure what to say, and it was quite disconcerting. He pressed his palms together and brought his steepled hands to rest on his lips thoughtfully.
"You want to make me jealous... Why?" Sherlock was determined to get to the bottom of this. A fleeting thought flew through his head that maybe this was wrong, taking advantage of John like this, but pushed it to the back of his mind. His curiosity was far more powerful.

JW: "Because I like you and I like it when you're posessive over me and I like it when you ruin all my dates and I don't know why." The words came tumbling out like rain falling from the sky.
John could feel himself blushing red. "That um...that sounds really bad doesn't it?" he added. "I wish you'd stop asking me all these questions Sherlock."

SH: Sherlock blinked. This was... unexpected. John always seemed so upset when Sherlock crashed his dates, and had tried on several occasions to make him stop. Sherlock would never have thought that he actually liked it.
None of it made sense. But it wasn't bad... not at all. In fact, Sherlock was thinking that it was very good, though he wasn't quite sure why.
"I don't think it's bad, John." He said softly, looking down at his hands and suddenly feeling a bit uncomfortable. "But I'll stop if you want me to." He gathered up the cards and shuffled them. "It's my turn to deal then, I suppose." He tried to concentrate on the cards, but couldn't help glancing up at John to see his expression.

JW: "No...no it's OK Sherlock," he could see Sherlock looking at the floor, and didn't want him to feel bad about it. "Actually...it's good to be honest with each other. It's...nice. I just think...well...probably no girlfriend could ever compare to you anyway. You're just...special. And yes, it's your turn to deal."
He regarded his friend thoughtfully, feeling more comfortable with the turn of events, but wondering what he was thinking inside that impenetrable brain of his.

SH: Sherlock felt his chest tighten and fill with warmth at John's words, but he tried to shake the feeling off, not liking how he couldn't seem to control it.
"Thank you, John." He murmured, dealing the cards out into two piles and setting the rest of the stack aside. He picked his up, but didn't look at them, too caught up in his thoughts.
He didn't know what to make of how he felt at the moment. He liked being around John, missed him when he was gone, but at the same time, he /didn't/ like how he seemed to lose control over himself when John was around. Normally, Sherlock would be able to quash any feelings before they even began, but with John it was different. He didn't seem to have any control over how he felt, and that scared Sherlock.

JW: John noticed that Sherlock had been sat staring at his cards expressionless for quite sometime. It became obvious he wasn't actually looking at his cards anymore, but lost somewhere in a daydream, thinking about another matter entirely.
He reached over and touched his friend's knee slightly. "Sherlock...are you OK?" he asked gently.

SH: Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts, jerking away from John's hand as if the warm fingers had burned him. He didn't want to hurt John's feelings, but there was something about his touch that made Sherlock forget his inhibitions, and Sherlock didn't feel comfortable with that in the least.
"I'm fine, John." He said quietly, trying to keep his expression and tone neutral. "It's your turn." He reminded him, nodding towards the M&Ms on the table.

JW: John jumped a little at Sherlock's snappy reaction, but wasn't really surprised. Physical contact wasn't exactly the kind of thing they did very often. It wasn't really Sherlock's area. He tried not to get hurt by it. It was just Sherlock being Sherlock, he told himself.
As he picked up his cards he couldn't help a smile flicker over his lips. He'd got quite a good hand this time - a couple of Kings. If he played it right he might be able to beat Sherlock. He pushed half of his M&Ms into the middle.

SH: Sherlock watched as John put half of his pile into the middle, seeing the small smile on his lips. Sherlock knew that John must have a very good hand in order to be that confident. He frowned - unfortunately, his hand was only a bit better than before, and he didn't think he'd be able to bluff his way out of this one. He wasn't about to give up though, so he took half of his larger pile and pushed it into the middle, smirking a bit for show.

JW: John knew Sherlock wouldn't give up easily, no matter what his hand was like, so it was really no surprise when he matched his bet. He stared thoughtfully at the growing pile of M&Ms in the pot and wondered what to do next. There was no way he was going to fold again though, he decided, not after Sherlock bluffing last time.
He pushed his remaining M&Ms into the pile. "I'm all in." he shrugged.

SH: Sherlock gritted his teeth - there was no way he could win against John, not with the cards he had. He would have to fold. Reluctantly, he placed his cards down on the table. "I fold. " He mumbled, quite put out. Though he /was/ rather curious as to what John was going to make him do.

JW: John smiled triumphantly and showed Sherlock his cards, before taking the pot to his own half of the table. He'd won! He realised he now had the opportunity to make Sherlock do some kind of dare and pondered for a while what it could possibly be. He wouldn't want to do anything to embarass him, he decided, or make him feel awkward...but then, that's exactly what Sherlock had done to him, so it's not like he didn't deserve it.
"I know," he began, "I think it's only right that you should have some of that concoction yourself. Then we'll be evens." He stared at his friend with a wicked glint in his eye, wondering how the drug would effect him.

SH: Sherlock mentally groaned. He had known that was what John was going to do. He desperately tried to think of a way to avoid it -- maybe he could lie and say that he didn't have any more, that John's glass held the only dose. But John would probably go check the refrigerator himself, and end up finding the container of it anyway.
"Alright then." Sherlock clenched his teeth and kept his face neutral. He didn't want John to know how nervous he was about this -- now he actually felt a bit guilty for doing it to John earlier. He went into the kitchen and retrieved another glass of the clear liquid, bringing it back into the sitting room and downing it quickly. He plopped back into his chair, arms crossed as if to cover up the fact that his heart was nearly pounding out of his chest.

JW: John could tell Sherlock wasn't really pleased about his dare. He knew his friend had trouble expressing his emotions, that talking openly didn't come easily to him...and he suddenly felt a little guilty for putting him under pressure. Maybe they should just forget the whole thing and go back to playing cards?
But before he could say anything, Sherlock had fetched some of the concoction from the fridge and downed a glass of it. Well, it was done now, and John searched his mind for an appropriate question to ask him, something not too probing, something easy, relaxed, fun even?
"Errrrrmm....what am I like to live with?" he asked with a smile. He kind of knew the answer to this one already...or at least, he knew what he /expected/ Sherlock to say.

SH: Sherlock took a deep breath, trying hard to fight back the words that were welling up in his chest. "You..." He gritted his teeth, fighting against it. "You make me... feel safe, being...here. I know that you won't...leave me. I don't... feel alone... like before. You never cease... to amaze me... with everything you do... for me."
He felt his cheeks turn red, but he forced himself to meet John's gaze. He couldn't afford to show weakness in his actions, not when he'd already shown so much through his words.

JW: John stared at the floor, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks with embarrassment. Good God, he had expected Sherlock to say he was difficult to live with, annoying, wore stupid jumpers, had terrible girlfriends. He had expected him to say /anything/ except what he did say. John had no idea Sherlock felt that way. Sure, he knew Sherlock liked him, and appreciated his friendship but...the words he was saying now made John's throat tighten slightly. He licked his dry lips and noticed his heart was racing.
"That's...Sherlock wow...that's...thank you. That...that's exactly how I feel about you actually...um..." he trailed off.
"I won't make you answer any more if you don't want. I'm sorry."

SH: Sherlock looked down at his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He felt... embarrassed, both for having spoken his private thoughts against his will and for making John so uncomfortable. Sherlock wasn't used to feeling embarrassed, as he usually didn't care one way or another what people thought. But John was different.
"It's only fair, John, as I did the same to you." Sherlock said, his deep voice uncharacteristically quiet. "If you wish to stop, I won't complain, but if your goal was to become even, then I'm afraid you still have several more questions to ask."
Sherlock noticed as John's tongue flicked out to moisten his lips. He looked away, wishing John would stop doing that -- it was incredibly distracting.

JW: Sherlock was looking so uncomfortable and awkward with the situation that John began to feel quite terrible. But with a sigh he also knew Sherlock was right. He /did/ have more questions...questions that he'd always wanted to ask his friend, questions that he'd tried to ask in the past but only got brushed off, given a stupid answer or sarcastic comment.
"Sherlock I..." he began slowly. "I've always wondered...why is it that...you never seem to...why don't you want me to have any girlfriends?"

SH: Sherlock paled at John's question, not because he knew he was going to say something embarrassing, but because he /didn't/ know what he was going to say at all.
"Because they take you... away from me. And that's not acceptable because..." His eyes closed tightly in concentration as he struggled against the words tumbling from his mouth. "You're mine, John. And I don't want to share you. I don't want you to like them more than you like me." Sherlock felt his pulse pounding in his ears and he was scared, so scared that John would get upset at his words and leave. Or mock him. He wasn't sure which was worse at this point. He kept his eyes closed against the silence and prepared himself for John's reaction.

JW: Sherlock's facial expressions were normally so imprenetrable, impossible to read. But right now John could see right through him, he could see the fear and anxiety etched on his face. And it hurt. Especially since he now realised that what Sherlock was saying was...well...fine.
He was cautious about touching him, after he leapt away so suddenly the last time, but all his natural caring instincts told him Sherlock needed comforting right now. John reached out his hand and hesitantly placed it gently on his friend's knee.
"It's OK Sherlock...I...you don't have to share me...because....I'll never like anyone more than I like you. It's...impossible."
John hadn't been planning to say that...but the drug was obviously still having an effect on his body, the words just formed on their own. He gasped a little, hoping he hadn't said too much.

SH: John wasn't upset? Sherlock opened his eyes slowly as he felt John's warm hand on his knee. He hesitantly reached over and took it in his own, feeling his fingers tingling from the close contact that so rarely passed between them. He peered into the dark blue eyes across from him.
"Truly, John?" He breathed, not quite sure if he should believe it or not, drug or no drug.

JW: John was totally taken aback when Sherlock placed his hand on top of his; but he didn't remove it. It felt...they'd never really had much physical contact in the past but...it was...
John noticed Sherlock staring right at him. They locked eye contact for a brief second before John broke it, feeling himself blush. He'd never really noticed how mesmerising his friend's eyes were before.
"Truly Sherlock...I...I mean what I said," he stammered. "I'd never go on another date again if I thought it was upsetting you. What we have…it means more to me than…than that.â€

SH: Sherlock was nervous, unsure how to proceed. "John, I... " He trailed away and leaned forward to place a finger under John's chin, tilting John's head up to meet his eyes again and staring into them searchingly. "You make me feel... " He paused, trying to find the words, "... /different/ than I've ever felt before." Sherlock wasn't adept at expressing his emotions and he hoped that John wouldn't think he was inarticulate. He didn't know how to describe his feelings for John, didn't know how to tell him that he'd always be there for him, that he'd never get bored of him, that he'd /die/ for him - Sherlock didn't know how to tell John that he loved him, because Sherlock himself didn't even understand that what he was feeling was, in fact, love.

JW: John didn't know how much longer he could stare into Sherlock's eyes. His head was swimming, he felt dizzy. His heart pounded in his chest as Sherlock reached forward and placed one of his long slender fingers underneath his chin.
John stood up and moved to perch on Sherlock's armchair, a sudden desire to be closer. He placed his hand on his flatmate's shoulder, rubbing it slightly.
John knew what love was. He /had/ thought he'd been in love before...but the way he felt about Sherlock was different. But...surely he couldn't be in love with Sherlock...could he?
"I...I feel the same way about you," he replied, reaching down with his other hand and touching the other man's cheek. "I....Sherlock....I think I...I think I might be in love with you."

SH: Sherlock felt a wave of warmth run through him at John's confession, his hands suddenly clammy. Love? Was that what this was? Was that what he felt for John? Sherlock couldn't think properly -- his mind had been taken over by the blonde doctor, all his thoughts whirling around John's hand caressing his cheek, John sitting so close that it was intoxicating, John just bloody /being/ John -- but the word 'love' clicked into place and suddenly everything made a whole lot more sense.
"I believe, John... I believe that I may be in love with you too." Sherlock whispered, hand hesitantly drifting up to stroke John's soft hair. He didn't want to ruin this, he was so afraid that he would do something 'not good' and mess this up, but he couldn't help but lean in closer, mesmerized by John's pink lips. There was barely any more space between them -- God, he hoped John would be alright with this -- then all of a sudden there was none and Sherlock's lips met John's, kissing him softly.

JW: John's heart was racing. He felt sick and nervous. He'd practically just confessed his undying love for his flatmate and he knew it was unreasonable to expect Sherlock fully reciprocate. John was so confused he didn't know what he wanted anymore. He'd always denied being gay yet some of the thoughts running through his mind right now seemed to want to argue otherwise.
When Sherlock said he thought he was in love too it was like all the pieces of the jigsaw falling into place. This was it, this was what he wanted. He knew Sherlock didn't fully understand his own feelings but this was a new area to John too. All he could think about were his desires, and when he saw Sherlock hesitantly moving for a kiss he closed his eyes and leaned into it. They kissed, cautiously at first. A small peck. The sensations that rippled through his body at the touch of their lips was unlike anything John had ever experienced.
"Oh God...Sherlock..." he mumbled into the other man's mouth. His hands wrapped themselves around Sherlock's skinny frame and he slid off the arm of the sofa onto his lap, straddling him, before leaning down to kiss him again.



Okaayyyy, now I'm embarrassed.