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Sherlock did not remember falling asleep that night, waiting for his flatmate's return, but he woke up to his phone beeping in the early morning.
Message sent 07:50
He's back, you have your chance, do not spoil it. MH
He jumped out of bed, things oddly clearer in the morning.
At the end of the line he realized he didn't mind that much that he didn't understand, he just never wanted John to leave, and he had to make sure it would not happen.
He heard John moving around in the kitchen, and he gave a sigh of relief.
"Good morning," he muttered once he was in the living room.
It was uncharacteristically cold.
John visibly jumped, spilling a bit of tea on the counter. He groaned, and glared at his hands, stubbornly not replying to the greeting.
"I have to admit I was wondering whether you would feel the need to come back… ever," Sherlock confessed, wrapping his hands loosely behind his back, because he was not going to let himself fidget.
John's hands balled into fists. "I didn't need to come back, I had on me all I can't leave behind."
Sherlock was not sure how to interpret the heavy painful feeling in his chest. One thing he knew for sure, he was not happy to hear John talk like that.
"And it annoys me, greatly, that I did come back. Because I really didn't have to, did I."
The detective felt he truly adored John's loyalty for the first time, in such a splendid way it was robbing him of his self-restraint.
"Sometimes I feel like a dog with you. A stupid abused dog, following you around no matter what," John snapped, clearly annoyed with himself.
So he wasn't the only one finding that bothersome!
Not that he wanted that to change in any way.
Ever.
He would worry about John all the time, he would endure that in silence if it meant that the doctor would stay by his side.
"I think loyal is a better word," he pointed out, stepping closer.
"Loyal, yeah right. Quite the useless trait these days."
Sherlock shook his head. "I would say it's highly illogical, but not that it is useless. Not to me at least."
John finally looked at him.
"I appreciate the fact that you won't leave me, as I do not want you to."
John frowned. "You could find another flatmate, someone who is not... You know."
"I know?"
Someone who’s not in love with you. "Someone who's not me."
"Why would I want that?" It didn't make any sense.
"Because that way you would die in a bomb threat without having to deal with all those feelings you do not understand." He muttered with a wave of his hand.
Sherlock frowned. "I don't particularly have a death wish."
"You don't?" He seemed surprised.
"No, and I actually find these emotional dwellings quite entertaining. Frustrating, yes, but nonetheless."
John blinked, then glared, then laughed. All in a few seconds. "That was actually a good thing, wasn't it?"
"I was surely not trying to be offensive," he muttered with a very tentative smile. He was a bit worried it wouldn't last, so he added, "I find I prefer it if you are happy though."
"Sorry, what?" The doctor was clearly lost.
"John, I thought it was pretty clear that I do… how do they say… care for you. I would not allow you to ‘follow me around’ as you put it if it was not so. And let's face it, Moriarty is constantly playing on that." And Sherlock was going to kill him for this, if it was the last thing he did.
John was so still in that moment, he could see his muscles tense to a halt. "But..?"
"But what?" he asked, confused.
"But you don't see me that way, you are not interested, you are married to your work, you are not my type?" he supplied with clear annoyance.
Sherlock tried to put things together, but what on earth was John talking about?
"None of the above!" he said eventually, hoping it was the correct answer, swinging on the balls of his feet, nervous.
John looked at him, incredulous.
"John, I did not mean to put any ‘but’ after what I said."
"I see…" But he didn't seem very convinced. "That's... Surprising."
They looked at each other suspiciously for a moment, apparently both uncertain about what to do next.
“I am not sure how to interpret that,” John admitted. Clearly his self-esteem had taken a holiday considering it was painfully obvious what Sherlock was skillfully implying.
Maybe not so skillfully.
His phone beeped in that precise second, it was still in his hand so he spared a glance at it.
Message sent 8:38
Kiss him. MH
Sherlock’s face went uncharacteristically red as he read the message, a reaction John had never seen, and undoubtedly, it intrigued him.
“What is it?” he asked, motioning to the phone, thankful for the distraction. He surely didn’t want to make a fool of himself, making more assumptions than he already had.
It was always dangerous ground with Sherlock, and their friendship was already on the line.
“Nothing of importance,” Sherlock muttered, sliding the phone in his robe’s pocket, “Just Mycroft.”
And then it was John’s phone beeping from the table.
Sherlock’s eyes widened considerably. Oh God, he wouldn’t.
“He’s trying me now?” John suggested, moving towards the table. "Must be quite important."
“Wait!” the detective tried to stop him, making a bee line to the table and standing in the way.
“I just want-“
It happened very quickly in fact, but in Sherlock’s head it slowed down to each instant.
He grabbed John’s arms, he blinked, he looked at his mouth, checking the direction he was supposed to bend, he planned and executed everything in order, careful of every detail.
That until he was pressing his lips to John’s and his heart decided to have an attack.
He tried to reason with himself, he couldn’t possibly be having a heart attack.
It was a good feeling after all, after the initial shock, the way he was nervous and happy and liked the touch of soft lips against his own, it was good.
He had closed his eyes instinctively, but opened them again at some point to check whether he was doing everything alright.
John was staring at him, shell-shocked.
He pulled back as if scalded.
Did I read it all wrong?
“What? No no, where are you going?” John quickly reacted, and God, you could tell he was much more experienced by the perfect movement of his arm wrapping around Sherlock’s waist and bringing their bodies together.
“Resume, please,” he whispered against his lips, Sherlock was happy to oblige.
To tell the truth, he had never really been this happy to follow an order.
He felt John’s tongue lick and nip at his lips and he opened them, knowing it was how things were supposed to go, even though he had to admit it had been quite too long for him.
He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, but he did it nonetheless: he kissed John, he fed on his passion and returned it equally, caressing the insides of his mouth and losing himself in the other man’s warmth and taste.
Luckily, it was not rocket science.
But when they pulled away from each other, he was dizzy and he wasn’t sure he could survive this at all.
His brain couldn’t possibly process this and more.
Relationships were surely a crazy thing.
"Sherlock, do you know what you just did? What it means?" John asked, his fingers were circling his lower back slowly, but still somehow hesitant.
"You make it sound like I always do illogical things..." He was a bit scared John really didn't know what he had meant.
"Not illogical, I wouldn't say that... But you do seem clueless about a few social norms."
"I know perfectly well what a kiss means, that is why I don't usually kiss anyone. I expect you noticed that." Or he'd have to think even less of John's limited mind.
"I am an exception then?"
"Of course you are!" Now John was really being silly. "For your information I have no interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with anyone other than you in this universe. It's either you or no one."
John was smiling at him then.
Fondly he would say, considering the burst of butterflies it caused his stomach to experience.
"Good to know we are on the same page," the doctor finally said.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I would like to say that it is very unlikely we are on the same page, considering you were with Sarah until a few hours ago."
He realized only then that he had been terribly jealous, he still was.
John leaned up to place a kiss on his nose. "We both know I am the slow one, Sherlock."
"You have a point." He had to smile when John started nuzzling his chin. He had no idea the army doctor could be so adorable.
He couldn’t believe he used adorable to describe something.
"Can I check my phone now?" John asked against his skin, making him blush again.
He didn’t even know he could blush.
“It is necessary?”
“I am curious.”
“You are not going to like it.” He was rather sure he’d think Mycroft’s meddling a bit of a breech of privacy.
John frowned, stretching his arm out to get the phone, while still keeping his other one around Sherlock.
As if Sherlock would go anywhere now.
“It’s Sarah.”
The detective found himself glaring at the phone. How dare she contact him again!
He was about to throw John’s phone out of the window.
“It seems they need a doctor at the clinic today…”
Sherlock blinked and his muscles relaxed. “You are not going.”
“Of course.”
“There is no way I am letting you.”
“Not even contemplating it.”
The detective realized John was indeed agreeing with him. “Mm, not used to this…”
“To what? Kisses?”
“That…” he laughed a bit, “And you agreeing with me.”
John laughed, pulling him even closer. “I always follow you around, so you really can’t say anything…”
“You do, I know, but you also complain continuously.”
“You need someone to ground you.”
“I guess I do.” He wasn’t really looking at him then, his eyes above his shoulder. “It seems I really need you.”
John’s fingers wrapped around his chin, making him turn towards him. “I told you we are on the same page, didn’t I.”
He wore a very soft smile, a smile Sherlock had never really seen, but he decided he liked it right away.
It had so many emotions in it he would need a lifetime to understand it completely.