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The two cups of mint tea sat on the counter between John and Sherlock, still smoking hot. John was writing his blog about their most recent case and Sherlock was watching him in silence. It happened, sometimes, and both of them secretly enjoyed it. Sherlock didn't have much to do, anyway, so he was admiring his friend, best friend, for whom he wished was something more to him than that. He wished their relationship could become one where they could express their love for each other in a different way, a bigger way. He wished their relationship was romantic.
Sherlock was lost in thought, looking at John, his furrowed eyebrows and quick fingers as he wrote. The bounce of his leg, here and there. His small, gentle smile as he recalled a particularly endearing part of their last adventure. Sherlock loved that smile. He especially loved it when he was its cause, which was probably the case now, too. It always caused a small but unusual flip in his stomach. He loved making John smile, though.
At one point, John looked up at Sherlock and smiled. Not that awkward smile people give you when they notice you are staring at them. This was a genuine smile that reflected in John's eyes, like he was happy to be sitting behind that counter in that kitchen with Sherlock and to spend time with him, even in such a simple way. But it was true. They both agreed they liked spending time like this. John's smile still made Sherlock blush.
To cover up his sudden blush, Sherlock averted his eyes to the side and picked up his cup of tea. He sipped it until there was no more tea in the cup, and even then, he wasn’t sure if his blush had gone. By then, John was back on his computer, typing furiously. His tea was also partially drank.
Oh, how Sherlock loved John. Just how much he loved him. He couldn’t keep it all in himself anymore. But he couldn't tell John, either, could he? There was no chance John could ever reciprocate Sherlock's feelings. Sherlock wasn't even sure John was into men, for fuck’s sake. And he couldn’t ruin their friendship, he just couldn't. It meant too much, to both of them.
Sherlock was a logical man. In his case, that usually meant he didn’t fully know what to do with his feelings. John was great at helping him process and deal with them, but he couldn’t ask him for help on this one, right?
Half subconsciously, Shelock started taping Morse code with his finger on the counter. It wasn’t like John even knew Morse cod, did he? Even if he did, he wouldn't be paying attention. He was blogging, after all. It wasn’t unusual for John to get lost in his thoughts while blogging.
'I love you, John. Not as a best friend. Romantically.'
John's head snapped up and he was looking Sherlock. Sherlock realised his roommate had stopped typing on his laptop a bit ago and he'd somehow missed it. Slowly, and not breaking eye contact, John put his shaky hand on the counter and started taping.
'I love you like that, too, Sherlock.'
"You know Morse code?" Sherlock whispered, too stunned to think of anything else to say.
"I was in the army," John replied weakly. "You truly meant what you said?"
Sherlock frowned, confused by how John could even ask such a silly question. "Yeah, of course I did."
John smiled. "Me, too."
John slowly reached for the back of Sherlock's neck gently and kissed him. It was all Sherlock had thought about when they didn't have an ongoing case for the past months, how it would be to feel John's lips on his, to have this kind of love from him. It was better than he could've ever imagined. He smiled into the kiss.
Later, in the evening, when they decided it was time to sleep, John came into Sherlock's room. Without a word, he laid down next to him and put his head on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock wrapped an arm around John's shoulders. For a while, they were like that in silence.
"30th of January, 2009, at exactly half past ten in the morning," whispered Sherlock. "That's when I fell in love with you."
John shuffled under the sheets to look at Sherlock. "Really? The day after we met?"
Sherlock's reply was just a nod and a quiet, "Yeah."
"You know what? I think I feel in love with you then, too," John said after a while. "That exact moment when you fell in love with me, too." He chuckled. "Took us long enough to confess, ay, love?"
"Yeah, I guess it did, darling."
"Honey."
"Sweetie."
"Sweetheart."
"Lovely."
"Babe."
"Baby."
"Dear."
John leaned in for another kiss just so they’d shut up. Sherlock murmured against his lips, "Hun. I win."
John smiled, his beautiful, genuine smile, against Sherlock's lips, and they continued kissing. And they were happy.