A/N: I have written this fan fiction in attempt to fill the hole in my chest that Sherlock has left in its absence. I cannot take full credit for this piece, my best friend and I, both hardcore Sherlock fans, had the idea to write this and did it together. Check out her stories too, ohmygodwritersblock is her username.

"Sherlock, we need to talk," John looked at the impossibly beautiful man in front of him, dark curls and a silk shirt open at the collar, exposing his long, elegant neck. He shook his head. Focus, he told himself.

"John," Sherlock said, turning to face him, serious and pacing, running his hands through his hair in frustration, "I don't have time for your trivia, there's been a triple murder case and I am this close to catching the killer," he held his hands half an inch apart, demonstrating, his eyes wild, hair in disarray.

"But Sherlock, I-"

"Not now John."

"Sherlock, just listen, it's importan-"

"John, I am right in the middle of solving this case, and I would appreciate it if you took your problems elsewhere." He returned to pacing furiously across the floor.

"Sherlock, I'm moving out," he said firmly. Sherlock stopped pacing and turned sharply to face him.

"No you're not, don't be ridiculous, John," he spat.

"Yes, I think I am. Listen, I know that it's going to be difficult solving cases together anymore, but you never really needed me anyway, you're brilliant. And I'm sorry that I messed this up, I am. This was fantastic- you're fantastic," their eyes met for a moment, but John quickly looked away, refocusing, "We just can't go on like this."

"John, you're being stupid, what on earth are you talking about?" his brow furrowed in confusion, his voice edging on annoyance.

"Sherlock, I bloody love you okay? And you already know that, so stop pretending you don't see why I have to move out!"

Sherlock had been standing completely still, but at John's words he crossed the room in three long strides. He took John's face in his hands and took a deep breath, "John, you idiot." He exhaled quietly, before crushing his lips to John's. John gasped against the pressure of Sherlock's mouth on his. He turned rigid in shock, before closing his eyes and relaxing against him, pulling him in tighter.

Sherlock walked him backwards until he was pressed between him and the wall. Though it was surprisingly not so different from kissing a woman, John had never been with a man before, and was still unsure where to place his hands, as Sherlock had his clasped around his face. He let them hover over Sherlock's shoulders, drifting down towards his waist, and then put them back up again. Evidently Sherlock noticed because he briefly broke the kiss to grab both of John's wrists in one hand, to hold them against the wall above his head. John took the opportunity, breaths coming in gasps, to sputter out, "Sherlock, I- what?"

"Oh for god's sake John."

"I don't-"

"I love you too."

"Sherlock, you- really?"

"Of course, it was blindingly obvious, as always, you see but do not observe."

"Shut up," he smiled, "I like you much better when you're not talking."

Sherlock matched John's smile, and leaned in again.