"John."

John didn't look up at the familiar voice, intent on finishing this last paragraph of the latest blog post before Lestrade came around with yet another case.

Rest and relaxation had been rare over the last couple of months. It was like the murders and psychos had all come out to play, and whilst Sherlock was loving every minute of it, John was about ready to collapse.

His fingers tapped against the keyboard, tilting his head slightly to the side as he tried to remember specific details about the case, or more specifically, what Sherlock's exact deductions were.

"John." The deep voice and soft accent finally broke through his concentration, and John couldn't help but jump ever so slightly… Sherlock was now a lot closer.

Knowing from previous experience, that he wasn't going to just leave him alone, John glanced over at the consulting detective, trying not to let any annoyance show on his face.

Sherlock just tended to pout if John was 'unjustly' annoyed at him.

His heart on the other hand, said more than his face ever could… let's just say, he hoped Sherlock didn't feel his pulse anytime soon.

He'd only just really started to come to terms with how he felt about his best friend, but that didn't mean he wanted Sherlock to know about it.

"Yes Sherlock?"

He deserved a mental pat on the back for that…. He sounded completely unaffected by Sherlock's presence.

Damn it.

Sherlock was giving him one of those genuine smiles, the ones that John couldn't help but return.

Since the incident with Moriarty, Sherlock had been unusually helpful (although getting the milk was still out of the realm of possibility). Their friendship had only grown stronger, but the feeling in John's chest, suggested that he wanted the relationship to go even further.

It was probably why his previous relationships hadn't worked out so well… they could see how he felt long before he could.

Sherlock was still staring down at him, his smile having softened a little at the edges and sending John's heart fluttering again.

"Sherlock?" he prompted, rolling his eyes as the smile turned swiftly into a smirk.

"My scarf John…" an elegant eyebrow was raised, "… I do believe you're sitting on it."

Well, at least he wasn't just demanding that John should "move!"

Smirking slightly himself, John slowly pushed his chair back and got to his feet, clearly intending to reach back and hand the detective his precious scarf (which felt like it cost more than what John had ever earned in his life).

However, before he could grab the scarf, Sherlock suddenly stepped closer, leaning close to John, practically looming over him.

John knew his cheeks were flushing slightly as Sherlock reached around him and grabbed the scarf, almost wrapping his arms around the shorter man in a hug.

But he didn't pull away.

Instead, his hands moved to John's shoulders and then to the elbows. "Something wrong John?"

John couldn't help but close his eyes, mind scrambling to think of an excuse.

"John?" Sherlock was starting to sound a little concerned now.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn't help but gasp a little bit.

He knew about his own feelings, and he might not have the observational skills of the Holmes brothers…. But he knew feelings and he knew people.

The concern in Sherlock's eyes was sort of understandable… but the adoration was something new. He'd never really noticed that before in Sherlock, and it took him by surprise.

Sherlock's hand tightened on his elbow, as if he was preparing for John to run screaming for the hills.

Maybe when they first met, he might have done.

But now, he's ready for this…. Ready for this step as long as it was with Sherlock.

Sherlock saw that choice immediately, because his real smile only seemed to grow.

"Sherlock…." He whispered as the taller man leaned in closer, seconds before their lips connected.

It was tentative at first, a slide of lips against lips. Eventually, the tension between them faded as they pressed closer, John's tongue cautiously touching Sherlock's bottom lip, smiling when he eagerly reciprocated.

When they finally parted, John felt the nerves start to slowly come back.

"Hi." He whispered, cursing himself in his mind for the stupid statement.

"Hello" he responded, beaming in a way that John had never seen before. Having a happy Sherlock made John want to run up to Mycroft and flip him off.

'This is how Sherlock can be!' he'd shout at the older man, 'This is what he should be like.'

Instead of giving the man a call however, he settled for kissing Sherlock instead. After a few moments, which seemed like years, they parted for air, resting their heads against one another.

So absorbed with each other, neither of them noticed Mrs Hudson quietly closing the door, a delighted beam on her face.

She just had to see Mrs Turner now.