Chapter Text
The door flew open as a certain detective with very pale skin and dark curls came storming into the flat. His cheeks were reddened by the January’s cold, and his coat speckled by tiny, already melting snowflakes. ''John, it is unacceptably cold outside. Do something about it.'' He commanded, throwing the Belstaff aside and himself on the sofa.
His always loyal flatmate looked up from his computer. ''Well, if you weren't running around London alone all day long, you wouldn't be cold now.'', and a hint of accusation lay in his voice. But Sherlock didn't notice, -of course-, it was Sherlock, and instead decided to ignore his friend's answer, and inform him about his current needs, ''I need tea and something to keep me warm or else I'll risk developing hypothermia, John.''
He sighed, ''Sherlock, you won't develop hypothermia, you are not nearly-'', but he interrupted himself when he saw that Sherlock was already lying on the couch, all limbs long, eyes closed, probably already sunken deep down into his mind palace.
The doctor sighed yet again and stood up to put the kettle on. He was about to put down the steaming mug in front of his steady breathing partner, when he almost dropped and spilled its content onto the floor, caused by the sudden '' You know I care about you, John.'', that sounded oddly like a question, more so than a statement at least.
Calculating, icy blue eyes bore into his gaze from across the room. The addressed steadied the cup on the coffee table, before lifting his eyes to his friend. ''What- Sherlock, I don't think this- '' ''Do you or do you not, John, it's a simple question even you should be capable of answering it.'' ''I'm ...What's the matter, Sherlock? What are you talking about?'', he stuttered, frowning as he got himself back together to gather some blankets for Sherlock, obviously, he was worse off than he originally thought.
''I want to make sure you know that I care about you.'', Sherlock said more quietly. John came back with blankets covering him up to his nose ''Huh? Sherlock will you just shut up, I think you're a bit beside yourself, did something happen?'' ''No, of course not. Nothing happened.'', he suddenly grabbed the surprised doctor by his wrist and dragged him, plus the blankets he still carried, down onto the couch he was still lying on.
''What is so hard to understand about that John? Since you are the one considerably more familiar with expressing emotions you should be able to tell that I care about you a lot. See, Moriarty was right in at least one way: You are my heart, and I need you. I need you to keep me sane, to protect myself. I need you to feel for me and remind me that I cannot say that thing because it is 'a bit not good'. I am not well-acquainted with expressing feelings, but that's why I need you. Because you know me, without judging me and without needing me to explain myself. And I didn't explain it to you, but I must be sure, that you know I care about you. I love you, and even if I don't know this all, and it's utterly scaring me, platonic or not. I love you. And you know that, don't you?'' Sherlock seemed genuinely stressed, while John just sat there, puzzled.
''Did you just say, you love me, you idiot?'' '' I ...guess I did.'', he smiled nervously. John hummed, looking at his detective; child-like, vulnerable. So John leaned in and kissed him; softly, loving. And because it was the only logical conclusion, Sherlock kissed him back; eagerly, longing. And so, because it felt right, they kissed until they were entangled in each other. A mess of blankets, limbs, and clothes and body heat. And only as they both needed desperately to breathe, John carried out a hoarse ''Well, I guess I do too. Love you.''