"Sherlock, I'm going out. I'll be back in a few hours, alright? Don't... blow up the flat or anything, okay?" John Watson called to his friend as he shrugged on his jacket.

"Tell Stamford I said hello." Sherlock said, not looking up.

"How did- never mind. I will. Bye." John shook his head and left.

Sherlock waited until John was gone to leap off his chair and snatch up the ex-army doctor's laptop. Yesterday he had found a password-protected file that he had been unable to open due to John's taking his laptop back. Today he was determined to read it.

Oh, John had changed the password on his laptop. Easy. It was hamish331. That out of the way, Sherlock searched for the file.

It was certainly hidden. Sherlock had to open seven folders to find it, seemingly random ones. The file was labeled BIRTHDAY GIFTS FOR HARRY. Well, that was misleading. Surely something so trivial wouldn't be protected by a password.

Sherlock tried several codes, watsonj, afganvet, 331221b, until he typed in sherlock and that opened it. Interesting. His name was a password?

Well, the file was open now. Sherlock began to read.

"Sherlock,

I knew you would find this letter eventually. It seemed inevitable, what with you constantly stealing my laptop for your own purposes. But if you have found this, then you must keep reading and listen to what I have to say. As if you would stop now, but you never know.

I have a confession. It has to do with a comment you made a few weeks ago. You remarked that I haven't been on a date in a while. This is true, but I hadn't realized it until you mentioned it. You asked me why that was, and I said I didn't know. I guess that was enough for you, because you didn't press. But the truth is, I did know, subconsciously, I suppose.

I haven't been going on dates with girls because I know there's only one person I'd like to go on a date with. You'll notice I've stopped protesting when people mistake us for a couple. Or maybe you didn't notice, but you do now. You'll be going through your memories and I'll bet you can pinpoint the exact day I gave up trying.

(Indeed, Sherlock did just that. It was two months ago at Angelo's)

Well, by now you'll have come to the conclusion that I came to after days of wracking my mind. I've stopped denying it because I wish it was true. I do want to be a couple with you. I do want to be your date.

And in case I need to say it properly, I'm in love with you, Sherlock Holmes.

There, I've said it. Typed it. Whatever. The question now is, what will you do now that you know? There are several possibilities.

If you don't reciprocate, I'd rather you not mention this to me at all. I won't make a move or anything, there's no reason to worry. I've successfully kept it a secret this long. Don't even pretend to know, I know perfectly well you hadn't had a clue. We can never speak of this, ever.

However, if you're uncomfortable knowing this fact, then go ahead and tell me, and I'll pack up my things and find a new flat. It won't hurt my feelings, Sherlock, I swear. I don't want this to interfere with your work or anything.

Well. That's really all I have to say, so this is the end.

By the way, Sherlock. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR OWN LAPTOP?

Anyway.

From, John."

Sherlock closed the laptop with a snap.

It was true, he realized now, it was all true. He had no cause before to test John's pulse or listen to his heart, or even to notice if his pupils dilated. He had seen all of these signs, of course, but he hadn't observed! Mentally smacking himself, he cursed his blindness.

Of course John, brilliant John, would feel this way. Why hadn't he seen the signs sooner? Why hadn't he observed?

But now there was a serious matter to think about. Did he feel the same way?

Sherlock didn't know. He couldn't tell. He tried thinking about John. Nothing.

Then he thought about John's smile. About the look of awe on John's face when he praised Sherlock's skills. John's contented hum when they stayed home and watched crap telly.

John's stupid jumpers that somehow, Sherlock found adorable. John's face, set as stone, when he shot a murderer who threatened Sherlock, without a second thought. John's way of pivoting so that he was always near Sherlock. John's habit of always passing Sherlock a pen or his phone when asked, even if said item was in hand's distance from Sherlock himself.

He checked his pulse. Yep. Definitely increased.

Scrambling up to look in a mirror, he saw that his pupils were dilated.

Well, that certainly makes things easier.

Remembering that he had left the letter open on John's laptop, he quickly opened the laptop again and closed out, shutting the device off.

When John got home, Sherlock was lying in front of the telly and glaring fiercely at the screen.

"I'm bored, John, let's go out to eat." He complained to the shorter man.

John shrugged. "Sounds good. Mike says hello back, we went to a park."

"Yes, I know." Sherlock stood up, all dressed and ready to leave. "You don't mind going out again so soon?"

"No, in fact I'm rather hungry. Let's go. Just let me grab my wallet." John started for his room, but Sherlock stopped him.

"Never mind that, I'm paying." He pulled John out the door before John could protest.

Once they reached Angelo's, Sherlock claimed their usual seat at the window. John slid into a booth.

"What did you do while I was out?" John asked casually.

Sherlock looked sideways at him. "Not much. I made some discoveries, not very interesting ones."

"That's nice." John said.

Angelo appeared. "Sherlock! Sorry I didn't notice you earlier. Would you like a candle for your date?"

As Sherlock expected, John said nothing, waiting for Sherlock to brush it off.

"Yes, that would be lovely. And some flowers?" Sherlock asked. Angelo nodded.

"Of course, of course. Wait just a tic." He wandered off to find the requested items.

John looked at Sherlock curiously. "Sherlock? Why...?"

"Aren't flowers and candles normal for a date?" Sherlock asked, worried. Had he gotten it wrong?

"A date...! Sherlock, we went over what a date is, remember? It's not for friends." John clarified, licking his lips. "It's for... um, boyfriends and girlfriends and people romantically attached."

"Yes, I know." Sherlock didn't understand what John was getting at.

John sighed. "Sherlock, we are none of those things!" He sounded slightly resigned as he said it, like he had said it in his head a thousand times but was still slightly hurt to be saying it out loud.

Ah. Sherlock realized where he had made his mistake.

"You're right, completely my fault." Sherlock accepted his error. John looked down, covering a hurt look.

"John, would you like to accompany me to Angelo's, as my boyfriend?"

John wrenched his head up sharply. "What?!"

Sherlock faced him. "I suppose it was my mistake that I didn't make my intentions clear before we got here. Completely on me. But will you answer the question so we can move on?"

John stared at him, dumbfounded. Suddenly, realization dawned on him.

"You read my letter!" He hissed.

"Yes, and now I am asking you on a date. I don't see the problem." Sherlock said right back.

"You... I... this..."

"Is a date, a proper one, if you can complete a sentence enough to say a simple yes." Sherlock finished for him.

John continued to stutter, unable to speak. "But..."

Sherlock sighed. Perhaps a different technique was called for.

Leaning across the table, he grasped John's shoulders and pressed his lips to the other man's. John froze completely.

Sherlock pulled back, sitting down. He looked back at John. "Yes?"

"Yes!" John cried. He laughed. "My god, Sherlock, nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"You need to work on your stutter, it's terrible inconvenient." Sherlock said, as Angelo returned with the candle and several roses in a cup.

"There you are, fellas. Can I get your orders?" He asked, setting the things down in front of the two.

Both men ordered, and after the store owner left, John started laughing again.

"I fail to see any humor." Sherlock said, scowling.

"No humor, Sherlock, I'm just happy." John told him.

Sherlock smiled then, reaching out to take John's hand in his own. "Good."

John grasped Sherlock's hand firmly. "I'm really glad you read my letter."

Sherlock chuckled. "I love you, John."

"I love you, too, Sherlock, you great git." John answered, finally able to say it out loud.

Angelo watched the two from the kitchen. "About time." He said to one of the waiters. The boy nodded, laughing.

"Should I take them two cheesecake slices on the house?" He asked.

"No... just one, with two forks." Angelo said, with a smirk. "I think that'll be enough for the both of 'em."

"Yes, sir." The boy rushed off to prepare their meals, and Angelo watched the two men and grinned to himself.

Blehh… I hate how this turned out, but I'm too lazy to fix it. Also I'm busy writing my other fics. Bring A Muggle to School Day should have a new chapter by the end of the week, yay. And I started a cross-over between Sherlock and Harry Potter. It might be up by the end of the month. So anyway, leave a review yelling at me to get off my lazy ass and put effort into my one-shots, because I need motivation. As you can tell by this story. DFTBA. Blair out.