The first time they kissed it was raining outside, John remembers because he forgot the umbrella at home and couldn't pull his eyes away from the sight of Sherlock's curls sticking to his forehead, a frustrated look on the detective's face as he tried to piece together the latest information of an already trying case.

He remembers pulling at his arm, trying to at least get him to go into the shop they were standing behind to get out of the rain but the detective was focused, almost ignorant to the fact that they were both completely drenched, thunder lighting the dark sky around them.

John considered leaving him to his thoughts, walking to the street to hail a cab, but he didn't like the idea of leaving him alone when he was like this, so focused that he neglects to see other things around him. Not the obvious bad eating and sleeping habits, those were issues they were slowly conquering, it was the shadows they had to worry about. Moriarty's shadows.

When John could no longer stand the rain beating down on him, his jacket soaked through and weighing heavily on his body, he moved to stand in front of Sherlock, his hands resting on the other man's shoulders, eyes trying to draw attention to himself.

"Sherlock." The name was swept away with the rain, Sherlock's eyes flickering back and forth, activity that anyone else might have mistaken for some sort of seizure. John knew though, he could always tell when Sherlock was in his mind palace, always wanted to know what it was like in there.

The more he stood there, watched those eyes flicker, those lips move ever so faintly, the more he became drawn in, his hands unconsciously sliding from Sherlock's shoulders to rest on either side of his neck in a gentle touch. John knew what was coming, tried to suppress the urge, the words "not gay" floating in his periphery, but he couldn't stop the movement of his body as he found himself standing almost completely on his toes.

The initial connection of their lips didn't produce fireworks, there was no sudden awakening in John that made him want to shove the other man against the wall and take him right there. Perhaps it was the lack of response from Sherlock, or the idea that he was in fact not gay, whatever it was he could feel the disappointment lingering in the back of his mind as he pulled away, his hands slipping down to rest on Sherlock's chest as his feet fully reconnected with the ground.

When he forced himself to look at Sherlock's face again he found the detective's lips slightly parted, eyes no longer flickering in a rapid movement, his gaze instead fully fixed on the man in front of him.

A loud clap of thunder startled John, made him jump, Sherlock unphased by the sound, the look of frustration replaced with confusion.

"Well then, let's get out of the rain before we both catch a cold." John's words were uneasy, strained as he finally turned from Sherlock, still feeling eyes on him as he made his way to the street.

Had this idea stuck in my head all day, had to do something with it. More to come.