Johnlock: Coming out(we're a couple!)

John lay on the couch contently with a book in his hands. It was nice to have peaceful days sometimes, when he didn't have to run around and find clues and solve crimes. Sherlock thought differently. He was sitting in his seat, his foot tapping impatiently. John could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. Chuckling, he went back to his book and continued to read, choosing to ignore the antsy Sherlock.

"John! How can you just sit there reading? There's no cases to solve!"

John sighed and said, "Because, Sherlock, I happen to enjoy these little days off. I get to read and relax, without having to worry about who killed who."

"Boring," he muttered. "Gah! There's nothing to do! John, where's my cigarettes?"

John sat up and laughed. "Oh no, not with the cigarettes again. I'm not telling you where they are!"

Sherlock grunted and started to tear the room apart looking for them. He was like a tornado, flinging everything into the air and leaving a huge mess behind him. Why couldn't John just tell him where they were? John sighed and looked at him. Did he have to be so messy?

"For God's sake, take a nicotine patch!"

"No! I don't want one, I want my cigarettes!"

"Well you're not getting them! So you can tidy up your mess, sit your ass down and shut up! Alright?"

Sherlock winced at the anger in John's voice. Muttering, he began to pick up all the paper and various other objects he'd knocked to the floor and put them back neatly where they belonged. When he'd tidied the room he sat down in his armchair, crossing his arms in a huff. He didn't mean to annoy John, but it was just so boring without any cases. Without anything to solve he felt as if his brain was turning to mush, dying for a murder to pop up. John moaned and moved over on the couch.

"Fine. Come here and read with me, if you're so bored."

Sherlock thought about it for a second then stood up and walked over to the couch. "What are you reading?" He asked, peering at the pages.

"Well, I thought I'd read Harry Potter again. I've always loved these books, ever since I was little. Used to pretend I was like Harry and run around the back garden with a stick shouting spells at my dog."

John shook his head and laughed at the memory. Sherlock smiled at the image of a young John, free of worries and cares. Nodding, he lay next to him, placing his head on John's chest and draping his right arm over his tan stomach. Together they read, laughing at the trio, enjoying the adventure. Sherlock himself had never really liked the books. Magic wasn't real, magic was lies. He only believed what he could see. However, he found that when reading with John, he'd actually begun to enjoy the story. Towards the end, John smiled and faced him.

"Have I managed to take your mind off not having a case?"

"Yes, actually. Of course, there is one more thing you could do that would erase the boredom completely..."

John smiled and cocked his head. "And what would that be exactly?"

"Oh I think you know, Mr Watson."

"Enlighten me."

Sherlock  planted a soft kiss on John's lips. "A little more of that might help."

John gave a chuckle and kissed Sherlock. He may be a sociopathic bastard who finds joy in muders, but my God he could kiss fantasticly.

'What was that?" Sherlock asked, pulling back.

"Hm?"

"I think you said you liked the way I tasted..."