Sherlock hadn't moved from the couch for three days, there hadn't been a case for a week. Seven more holes in the wall, and ten full meals later, Sherlock couldn't take it anymore. "Why isn't there a case John?" To be honest, John was quite tired of not being able to work on a case, but that wouldn't help Sherlock. "Just wait, one will come." "Why isn't there one now?" Sherlock screamed, echoing around the flat. He began tearing up the flat for the hidden cigarettes. The cigarettes John had hidden in the locked drawer on his desk, the cigarettes John watched the man he loved rip apart the flat for, him knowing where they are. John had only recently come to terms that he was in love with Sherlock Holmes, he just couldn't call himself gay. It seemed such a harsh word, no he was in love, just in love. Sometimes he wished Sherlock would understand, other times he was glad Sherlock didn't know.
"Please John, just one." John hated when Sherlock said please, it made him want to give them to him even more.
"No, Sherlock," he hid his face behind the newspaper, pretending not to care.
"John, I'm tired of this, where is your revolver?"
"Sherlock, you are not putting another bullet in the poor wall."
"It's not for the wall John, unless I am considered a wall." John looked up, his mouth dry, not wanting to believe the words that had just come out of Sherlock's mouth. Still, no amount of hoping could change the past, John had learned that the hard way. He had also learned that caring was not an advantage, but that didn't stop him from wanting to run to Sherlock, tell him he loves him, tell him he was worth it, tell him not to give up now.
"Sherlock, I can't give you that either."
"Why John? Why?"
"Because I love you."
For once Sherlock was at a loss for words, "you..."
"I love you."
Part 2
"No Sherlock, just forget it." Sherlock grabbed John's wrist as he tried to walk out of the flat.
"John"
"No Sherlock!" He ripped his hand out of Sherlock's grasp, and walk out of the flat, leaving Sherlock looking after him. Sherlock had never been so confused in his life. What was wrong with John? Why couldn't he just tell Sherlock how he felt? He had been trying to talk to John for four days, each time John had left, saying he needed to go to work, or get the shopping, or get some air. For once in his life, Sherlock didn't understand. He didn't understand emotions, he understood love least of all. Sure there was the dilated pupils, the quickened heartbeat, but what went on inside a lover's head? What went on in John's head? He did what John would do, make tea.
"Kettle's just boiled," he announced calmly. It had in fact boiled ten minutes ago, but Sherlock wanted to talk to John.
"Thanks." John went and sat in his chair, the chair he told Sherlock he loved him in. The chair where he was sitting when Sherlock told him he wanted to kill himself. It felt like so long ago, but it was only a four days before. John wanted to forget he had said anything, to forget he loved Sherlock, but he also wanted to tell him he loved him again and again until the words felt right on his tongue, until they were returned.
"John, I, I don't don't know what to say."
"Then don't say anything." He said harshly, but the words felt wrong, he wanted to say, "then talk about nothing for hours on end, talk until forever, talk to me." The words didn't come, 'someday,' he thought, 'someday.'
"I can't, I don't, I just want you to be happy." Sherlock was surprisingly at a loss of words, so he said the truth, he wanted John to be happy, he cared about him. Is this what love is?
Then kiss me, tell me you love me! John's mind screamed, hoping against hope that Sherlock would just see how John felt, that Sherlock would return the feelings.
"I want to know what will make you happy."
He wants me to be happy, he cares. No John, you idiot, stop, he's just acting. He's a good actor then, yes he is, he's good, good. Sherlock was centimeters away from John's face, his eyes staring into John's. John was lost, swimming in Sherlock's gaze.
"Do you love me John Watson?"
"Always." They began what promised to be a long, sweet kiss.
