Alone on Baker Street

Chapter Five

For what seemed like forever, Sherlock and John just stared out each other, their mouths slightly agape.

The thing that snapped them back into reality was the waitress coming back with their drinks.

"Here you go," The waitress said. She leaned down to deliver Sherlock's drink, obviously trying to flaunt her cleavage. "Have you decided on what you want yet?" The waitress asked, eyeing Sherlock flirtatiously. John felt hot anger rising in his chest, but tried to push it down.

"Yes. I'll have the fettuccine."

The waitress wrote it down. "Very good choice. Very yummy." Judging by her expression, she thought Sherlock was "yummy" as well. John again tried to control himself.

"And for you?" She asked John, her tone purely professional.

"I...seemed to have lost my appetite."

"John..." Sherlock began.

"Fine, fine, I'll have the...rigatoni."

"Very well. I will be back soon." She winked at Sherlock and walked off.

"She seemed friendly." Sherlock said.

"A bit too friendly, if you ask me." John snapped.

Sherlock gave a small laugh. "You don't have to worry. My heart is all yours, John Watson." With that, he took one of John's hands and gently kissed it, then laid it back on the table. John's face was beet red.

John's eyes began to water up against his will.

"John? Are you okay? Did I go too far?" Sherlock asked, worried.

"No, no, of course not. I just...I just never thought you would love me."

"I thought the same thing yesterday. You're a soldier, John, a hero. I don't deserve to be loved by such a kind man. You've saved my life in so many ways. I was a cruel, heartless sociopath, but you changed me. You made me better. And for that, I'll never be able to thank you."

"Sherlock, you don't have to thank me. At all. You saved me too, you know. I was wounded, lonely, and couldn't trust anyone. Until I met you, I forgot what living felt like. I forgot what being happy was. But you've made me happier than I could ever imagine."

Sherlock looked down, unaccustomed to receiving such heartwarming compliments. John even observed his eyes getting a little watery.

"John, I...I don't know what to say."

John smiled warmly. "You don't have to say anything."

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By that time, the waitress returned with John and Sherlock's pasta. She was as flirtatious as ever with Sherlock, and John gave her a stabbing look when her back was turned.

They ate in a pleasant silence, John finishing his entree to please Sherlock. He was actually quite full after the first couple bites.

When the waitress brought the bill, with "call me, cutie" and a phone number written at the bottom, John had to use every ounce of self control to calm himself down. Sherlock set the money on the table and left the restaurant, John trailing behind him.

As they approached the street, Sherlock suddenly grabbed John's hand, interlacing fingers with him. John's eyes lit up, and he smiled.

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A short cab ride later, the two men arrived back at their flat on Baker Street. John felt absolutely euphoric--he had went from wanting to die from being the happiest man alive in just two days.

John entered the flat first, and then Sherlock, slammed the door closed behind them. Before John could react, Sherlock had pinned him to the wall. After looking into John's eyes for about half a second, Sherlock smashed his lips onto John's.

John immediately noticed the softness of Sherlock's heart-shaped lips. The ferocity of the kiss showed him that Sherlock had wanted to do this for a long time. His hands travelled up to Sherlock's curls, tangling themselves in them. Their mouths parted for air only for an instant, and then the kiss continued. Before he knew it, John felt Sherlock's tongue enter in his mouth, causing him to moan softly. Sherlock was the dominant of the two, and, somehow, he knew exactly how to please John.

After another straight minute of kissing and taking small breaks for breathing, Sherlock was the one who parted from the kiss. "John," he gasped. "I'm sorry. I didn't expect to do that."

"Don't apologize." John gasped back. "I loved it."

Sherlock removed his coat and his scarf, his cheeks red, but not from the cold. He helped John remove his coat, and then led him to the couch.

Sherlock sat while John rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock's arm was protectively around his John. When John fell asleep, Sherlock gently picked him up and went upstairs to place him in his bed. He kissed him on his forehead and went to his own bed, the memory of their kiss still fresh in his mind. That night, he dreamt of love, of skies and stars, of his newfound appreciation for the emotions he had never had before.