To Be Like That Of A God

Don't You Just Love Newspapers?

"I told Molly the other night, about me. Not about you." He assured. John nodded, tensing a little bit at the mention of Molly Hooper and yet Sherlock almost felt as though she had to be mentioned. They both knew very well what they were doing, and certainly the mere mention of Molly's name would stop anything now, not that it had already been put in motion.
"How did she take it?" John wondered nervously, raising his eyebrow as though he was worried about what that answer might be.
"She claimed she already knew." Sherlock admitted after a moment's hesitation. John just smiled, nodding and sipping at his wine as though he thought that might be the answer.
"Ya, I admit that I highly suspected you as well. That night on the beach, well...it almost seemed like you weren't even bothering to hide it." John admitted cautiously, watching Sherlock with unwavering eyes as if making sure he was following along.
"I didn't know then, how on earth could you have?" Sherlock wondered, watching as John's face flickered in the firelight, a beautiful man in such a beautiful setting, well it was becoming ever more painful to sit here simply because they both knew Sherlock wasn't here for conversation.
"Maybe I have an eye for that sort of thing then." John admitted with a shrug. Sherlock sat up slowly, sighing heavily at John's overconfidence with himself. Did John really think he was some sort of clairvoyant?
"Oh, I doubt that." Sherlock decided with a little smile, to which John just raised a challenging eyebrow.
"Victor too, without a doubt." John guessed quickly. Sherlock only laughed, dropping his head a little bit and staring down at his glass instead of into John's eyes.
"Well that, I must admit, is my fault. Just as your own sexuality may just be my fault." Sherlock guessed.
"Oh ya, you're taking credit for me now?" John wondered challengingly, taking a large swig of his wine before setting his glass aside entirely. Now this was what Sherlock had been expecting, this was what he had been waiting for.
"Well I'd like to think I had some part in it, surely you weren't attracted to men before I happened into your life." Sherlock clarified, shrugging his shoulders as John just shook his head in exasperation.
"Who ever said I was attracted to you?" John wondered, to which Sherlock just chuckled, sitting up and setting his wine glass aside as well, raising an eyebrow as if daring John to contradict him one more time.
"Maybe I mistook you." Sherlock shrugged, making John nod with a newfound fire in his eyes.
"You definitely did." John agreed with a sigh.
"Hm, well then if you're not attracted to me, what are you?" Sherlock wondered with a bit of a teasing smile. John sighed heavily, inching ever closer so that they could approach each other in the firelight, shuffling on the woolen blanket so that they were almost at arm's reach.
"I'm in love with you." John corrected finally. At that Sherlock's heart simply burst into flames, hearing that out of John's mouth has such an impact on him that he was almost too stunned to speak, however he couldn't show that it was affecting him, for that John's goal of course, subdue him with words. He couldn't let John have the upper hand, not from the start.
"I doubt that." Sherlock murmured, a horrible way to fight back verbally considering his voice had been nothing more of a squeak, for John was so close now that he was almost kneeling on Sherlock's feet. John simply hummed doubtfully, a small smile appearing on his face as he stared deeper into Sherlock's eyes than ever before. Sherlock was quite worried that he saw more than intended, but then again Sherlock wasn't hiding anything from John, for John was the only secret he's ever kept. John knew everything, and so why should he be so afraid of John seeing his soul?
"Would you like me to prove it?" John wondered softly, pushing on one of Sherlock's shoulders ever so softly, pushing so that he might lie back... Sherlock breathed in approval, letting himself be forced down onto the carpet by John's unforeseen strength, letting the man sit before him and begin to very gently undo the buttons of Sherlock's thick trench coat.
"Prove it then." Sherlock whispered finally, feeling John's fingers brush against his chest, feeling the man finally lean down and let his lips hover tauntingly above Sherlock's, ducking away every time Sherlock tried to reach his own lips and kiss him first. John was laughing, taunting him from that mere distance of a couple of millimeters, toying with his emotions and forcing Sherlock's heart to jump from his chest in an attempt to reach John's. It was infuriating, it was maddening, and finally Sherlock grabbed the man by the neck and pulled his face onto his, jamming their lips together in something of a kiss before John finally eased himself down, lying on Sherlock's chest and kissing with all the obedience that was expected of him. And Sherlock's hands fell away, weakened by the love that was coursing through his very veins, and yet his weakness fueled John ever more, and soon he found himself completely at the mercy of that man's kisses, of his touches. John's lips were on Sherlock's and he found his limbs to go completely numb, useless, his head spun and there only seemed to be one true reality, one true focus. John Watson was the only thing that did not go out of focus, his lips felt so vibrant on Sherlock's skin, his touches so electric, the heat of the fire warming the two before they started to shed their extra layers, submitting their bare skin to the freezing air, their hearts ablaze in their chests.