Hello! Me again. Decided to write another John/Sherlock story, it has a plot this time...maybe. Hope you enjoy.

Obviously these characters are not mine.

'That light, eventually it will go out'

John raised his eyebrows and looked up from across the scrabble board. He was losing, Sherlock managed to get zygote on a triple word score. Bastard.

'I'm sorry'

'That light he is singing about, eventually it will go out. It's scientifically impossible for a light to last forever'

John sighed 'Sherlock, it's a song. It's metaphorical.'

'Metaphorical? For what?'

This caused John to leave his seat, storm up to the stereo and turn it off in a huff.

'If you're not going to appreciate the Smiths then we can play scrabble in silence.'

'Thank god, I'm so tired of the warbling. How can you like it John? I wish someone would put the singer out of his misery.'

John wanted to come up with a witty reply, but this was Sherlock, he had lost the argument before it had even begun, so instead he picked up the tiles and placed them on the board 'G-A-R-D-E-N' He scribbled his score down.

'It's Valentine's day tomorrow. Where are you taking Sarah?' John was quite shocked that Sherlock even knew what Valentine's day was.

'Dinner and a movie'

'Predictable'

'Yes, but seeing as our first date nearly resulted in her tragic death, sometimes predictability is a good thing.'

Sherlock simply dismissed this comment with one elegant roll of his eyes.

'I don't understand Valentine's day. People being forced to buy tacky cards and gifts. Couples desperately trying to prove how much they love each other even though most of them have been married for so long they can barely stand the sight of each other. It's such a con.'

'I know it's a con Sherlock. But some of us actually want to get laid'

The next night John took Sarah out. He deduced by the amount of aftershave John put on that he did really want to get laid. John hadn't told him the name of the restaurant where they were going; something about wanting privacy, but he had figured it out easily. John had folded the paper on a glowing review, and Lestrade had recommended it only a few weeks ago when they were on the tail of a man doing a bank robbery dressed as the deputy Prime Minister. It was an Italian place thank god. Sherlock doubted he could have coped if it was a Chinese. Chinese food was their food.

Sherlock was absentmindedly plucking on a few strings of his violin when John left. John instructed him to only text if it was a matter of life and death.

'And even if it is I will probably ignore it' he warned.

So John went out leaving Sherlock alone. Usually this didn't bother him, before John started living with him he lived in solitude. The only timed he socialised was when Lestrade needed him for a case. Now, now things were different. If he didn't know any better he would say that he missed John. This of course, was impossible. He was a sociopath, sociopaths do not miss people.

As the night drew on Sherlock tried to distract himself from the increasingly uneasy feeling he was getting. He looked at the clock, knowing John's eating habits they were probably done with the meal and waiting for the film to start. John wanted sex so he would let Sarah choose. It was probably some turgid romantic comedy. John would be bored, this made Sherlock smile.

Thinking of John made Sherlock feel happy and almost light headed. He flicked through one of his medical journal's but there was nothing interesting. He tried watching Marple but he solved the whole thing in about 5 minutes. He also deduced that two of the actors were having an affair despite being married. She was pregnant but with no idea who the father was. He wished John was here so he could have someone to tell all this to. John liked it when Sherlock deduced things like this. Sherlock knew this because he had cancelled his secret subscription to heat magazine.

He paced around the flat some more, he found one of John's jumpers, he was slightly cold so he decided to wear it. It was far too small and he would probably annoy his flat mate for stretching the thick material, but it smelt like John and this comforted him.

Drawing a target on the wall and throwing knives at the bulls eye was his next attempt to occupy himself. He could do this because it was time for Mrs Hudson's herbal soother so she would be fast asleep and he would be left in peace. Still, it wasn't half as much fun as when John was around.

There he was again, John, John, John, John. This wouldn't do. He was going to lose precious brain power. John was taking up far too much room in his head. He would have to delete things. He was wondering what he could clear out but for some reason he didn't want to. He enjoyed his memories of John. Whether they were chasing a criminal or simply sitting on the sofa watching telly. And there was other important information he would have to keep hold of. Such as remembering to make sure it was water that's in the kettle in the morning, because John liked to have tea before setting of for work. And to make sure that there was enough space in the fridge for food.

No, other things would have to go. He decided that he didn't really didn't need to know whether the earth was round. And the order of the planets wouldn't really help a future case, and someone else could remember when Christmas was.

He was debating how important it was to know the year he was born when his mind strayed again. Thinking of Sarah and John out together gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. At first he thought it was something he ate but he hadn't eaten in three days.

The feeling was making his stomach tie itself in knots and he felt sick. He also felt his cheeks redden and without his knowledge his hands had clenched into fists. This was most unusual. He tried to remember the last time he had felt this way. He lay down on the sofa and rested his chin on his hands.

The last time his hands had made fists was when he wanted to punch Anderson. But this was different, this wasn't anger it was something else. The last time he remembered having this sick feeling was when Mycroft had received a new chemistry set for his birthday. Ah, so jealousy then. Hmmm what was happening that he was jealous over?

The feeling was new so the cause must have happened that very day. But nothing important had happened. The only thing he could think of was Sarah and John. Was he jealous that John had taken Sarah out? Did this mean he fancied Sarah? No that was impossible, she was boring, terribly boring. No wonder John wanted part of their date to involve sitting in silence in the dark watching other people.

So that left John. Did this mean he fancied John? Possibly, he was fun and exciting, the only man Sherlock could stand to be around for more than an hour. And he made nice cups of tea. He thought of all the time they had spent together. All the running about chasing criminals, he thought of Moriarty and the swimming pool, of the absolute terror he felt when he saw John strapped to the bomb, then John saving his life by pushing him into the swimming pool so the water absorbed the power of the blast. He thought of all the times he had cached John half dressed, coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped round his waist. His days in the army made him fit and toned. He was surprisingly lean. Not what Sherlock had expected at all.

All this thinking of half naked John had made him get what was commonly known as a hard on. Sherlock hadn't had one of those since he was a teenager and was surprised he still could. He reached down and felt his erection through his trousers. It was surprisingly nice. Especially when he imagined it was John's hand that had done the touching. He wondered if he could ignore it and hope it would go away but he decided the best plan of action was to, for once, give into his bodies wishes. He undid his trousers and began stroke his aching cock.

He closed his eyes and settled into a rhythmic rhythm, moaning John's name as he came.

So, Moriarty was right, he thought to himself. He did have a heart. Sherlock had feelings and despite numerous rumours on the contrary, was capable of love. He, Sherlock Holmes was in love with John Watson. This could not be good.

Well, there you go. Hope you liked it. I'm a Smiths fan, so I decided to make John one to. :D. Oh the power of Fan Fiction. The case begins in the next chapter. I will upload that as soon as I can.

Reviews are love. xxx