Work Text:
It was a calm evening. John Watson was sitting in his arm chair, reading over his last blog post. He was thinking about the man himself: Sherlock Holmes. Lately, John had been noticing things about Sherlock. Ironic, but nevertheless. John had noticed that Sherlock had been noticing him. It's safe to say that John was head over heels and he knew that Sherlock had been analyzing him more than regular as of late to confirm his suspicions. Those thoughts always sat in the back of his head these days, mostly anxiety of how he was ever going to tell Sherlock that he loved him, and how he probably wasn't going to. John heard footsteps. Holmes abruptly stood in front of him. John instinctively questioned him:
“Need something?-”
Before John had even begun to process anything, he felt cold hands grabbing the sides of his face.
Sherlock held John's face, staring with his ever piercing eyes. He had adjusted himself so he was kneeling while John sat in the chair, both of the men's heads facing straight at each other.
“John. I'm confessing my love, I love you.”
Watson's face flushed. WHAT??
“What-”
“Your face is red, I'm truly correct then. I know you love me John, I've been taking note of your behavior recently, not that I only just noticed that you love me, but rather that you've been debating telling me in these past few weeks. I'm telling you the feeling is mutual. At least based on the research about love I've been doing. Before I say more, because I'm going to want to explain more so you understand, obviously. Can I kiss you?”
John blinked. This wasn't how it saw it happening, the confession. However the nature of this situation was definitely very ‘Sherlock.’ How could he refuse?
“Uhm- yeah-”
Sherlock, still holding John’s face, guided him to stand up. He gently pulled their faces together, and kissed him. Their faces fit together perfectly. This felt so right, so natural, even though this had never happened before. As the kiss went on John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, and Sherlock fidgeted with John's hair.
When they separated John grazed over his mouth with his hand and quickly retracted his arms to his sides, blushing. Sherlock moved his arms behind his own back and smiled, staring down at John lovingly. John sat back down in the chair.
“So, explain more then?”
As Sherlock spoke his eyes darted around, so did his hands:
“Right, I noticed you being more stand-offish recently, so I went through all 9 possibilities and ultimately you being unsure of how to tell me was the only real explanation. I knew I loved you too, or at least I wasn’t opposed to calling what I feel love, so I did some research and lots of thinking. I love everything about you John. I want you around and I value your opinions. I wish to make you tea every morning and cook dinner… sometimes. I have never felt so inclined to care about anyone this much in my life. Also did you get new toothpaste? You tasted like cinnamon rather than the usual mint I can smell in your breath.”
John laughed, he loved this man so much.
“I should say it back for real I suppose; I love you Sherlock… and yes. They were out at the store..”