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“Don’t spoil it.”
Sherlock can smell John’s shampoo and the sweat on his brow. John’s hand tenses on Sherlock’s bicep. They could close the gap between them. This could be that moment.
Of course they had thought about it. Alone at night, Sherlock considered it. John entertained the idea in the afternoons when it seemed right. They could let it happen, naturally, right now. It would be exciting and unknown, and somehow incorrect. It would change everything. It would become something.
John releases Sherlock, turns slightly to draw breath. Sherlock observes John’s profile and exhales.
It’s perfect as it is.