I do not own Sherlock, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle does, This is the BBC's Sherlock and I make no money from writing this.

A/N- I am so so so sorry for the lateness, I was literally running on overtime for everything. I had two assignments to complete. Then I had to come home do my chores and literally try not to die of exhaustion, anyway one more chapter to go and then this story is completed. And maybe a M epilogue if people want it?

Sherlock was staring at the ceiling, he had been doing so for the past hour, thinking. A few days had passed since the bathroom incident and the scene kept replaying over and over in his head.

Am I a fucking bet?

Messages had been passed onwards to him by various students, he screwed them up without looking at them and chucked his phone into the first toilet he found after the 3rd text message from Moriarty, although the man himself had obviously been stalking him from a distance.

Girls had approached him from time to time, non of them interesting enough to maintain more than a ten second conversation with him. He missed the ignoring, missed being a shadow. And yet every-time he saw a glimpse of John Watson passing him, watching him, mumbling his name just loud enough for Sherlock- he wanted to exist, to be noticed by just this one man and be his everything.

And yet-

"Should be easy right...? I mean what's he got, no friends? I bet he's pining for somebody now?"

It hurt way to much.

With a sigh, Sherlock glanced down at himself ignoring his brother's smirk as he entered the room, followed by his assistant.

"Don't you look, fetching my dear brother? So delightful, mummy would be proud." Mycroft said as he reached forward and began to adjust his brother's tie. Sherlock slapped his hands away furiously and glared.
"Don't be so spoilt little brother, after all who's pennies brought you such a fine material." Mycroft lifted an eyebrow at his brothers pout before pushing a few locks of hair behind Sherlock's ear.

"Sir, we really should be going." His assistant said glancing up from her Blackberry. Mycroft stared at his brother for a moment, Sherlock stared back, face blank but eyes sparkling with only an emotion that Mycroft could detect.

"Very well... Antha. Please will you escort my brother down into the hallway, I'll be down in just a moment." Mycroft said, Antha bowed her head slightly.

"Very well, sir." She glanced at Sherlock before turning on her heel and walking out, followed by Sherlock who kept his head down. Mycroft waited until his brother was out of site before dialling.

The party was so obviously for couples. John could barely look around before he was pulled into the photographer room by Sarah who had already drunk beforehand.

"John, there's Molly with Lestrade!" She squealed waving furiously at Molly who was perched in Lestrade's lap both looking at the camera with matching forced smiles. John rolled his eyes as the camera went off and Molly scooted off Lestrade's lap the moment the flash went off.

"Sarah, Oh my god. You look stunning, and John-" She simply forced a smile at John who had chosen to wear a jumper and jeans instead of an expensive tux. Sarah had dressed formally, together they looked out of place. Lestrade was one of the few guys who had decided to wear a decent looking suit.

"Lestrade, would you mind taking a photo with Sarah? Seems Johns not up for it." Molly yelled at the dazed man. Lestrade mumbled something before shifting his eyes on John who just shrugged. Sarah peaked him quickly on the cheek before putting herself in Lestrade's lap and smiling warmly at him in thanks.

John walked off the moment Sarah's head was turned.

He knew he would end up at the bar some-way or another, drinking down shots of punch like it was water, hunched over and tired. It was some rich geezers birthday, dressed up on the theme of Prom night. The one day he wished he didn't have to repeat. How Sarah got an invite only god knew. But John was pretty content as long as she stayed away from him and left him alone.
"Steady on the punch Johnny Boy." John's shoulders hunched protectively as Moriarty sat down next to him, dressed smartly like always.

"Might choke, if your not careful." Moriarty said, John poured any shot to prove he didn't care.

"And what do you care..." John spat, drinking down the liquid and slamming the small glass down.

"Temper, temper. Wouldn't want Sherlock to see his pet in such a state." At the mention of Sherlock's name, John clenched his fists and turned his eyes hatefully on the man. Moriarty chuckled before lifting a hand to the barkeeper who poured him a glass of brandy with a bow. Before wetting his lips with the drink, Moriarty paused.

"Stay away from Sherlock Holmes." He said.

"Or what?" John spat angrily. Moriarty smirked.

"I'll have his pet put down." John's eyes widened slightly, Moriarty turned to him smiling warmly.

"Oh and in case you're wondering, that's a threat. Ciao." He stood up and walked off, disappearing among the crowd. John stared after him for a moment before the lights dimmed and somebody was yelling 'Lover's dance." Over a speaker.

"I can't do this." Sherlock stared at the crowd of couples, Antha on his shoulder. She grumbled something and stared at her shoes before pulling Sherlock towards the crowd.

"Come on." She said, she took his hands in hers and pulled, he stumbled towards her clumsily before he was spun forcefully in her grip.

"What are you doing?" He hissed at her noticing some girls stare at him and blush.

"Dancing. Dancing is an art form generally-"

"Don't Wikipedia it, my dear." A voice said, Antha was suddenly pushed aside and Moriarty was now gripping Sherlock and pulling him deeper into the crowd. The moment they were in the middle, Moriarty turned to Sherlock.

"Don't you look delicious, mmm." Moriarty breathed in Sherlock's neck before pushing the man away slightly and pouncing on him in a single moment, tangling their hands together and pushing his leg against Sherlock's groin.

"So beautiful. Hot. I've waited for you." Sherlock flinched as a long finger trailed up his thigh.
"You're so lovely. Untouched. The sweetest of wines, yet to be tasted. I vow to pleasure you my dear, after all we were made for each other, weren't we?" Sherlock pushed Moriarty away the moment his hand was pushed on his groin. Quickly, he dived out of the crowd and paced outside, loosening his tie and ruffling his hair.

"John, where are you going?" John had spotted Sherlock exiting while he and Sarah had been dancing.

"I've got to go Sarah, let go of me." He said gently, eyes following Sherlock's movement. Sarah followed his gaze with curiosity.

"But it's the lovers dance! You can't just leave, what about me?" She asked as he wrenched his hand from hers and began walking towards Sherlock, who had now exited the building.

"JOHN!" She hissed and she reached for his hand again only for him to recoil more forcefully.

"I'm sorry Sarah, but it's over." He said. He didn't look back.

It couldn't of gone any other way. As Sherlock stared up at the sky, the heavens opened and the rain poured on top of him, he felt his eyes closing and he opened his arms out to hug gods gift. He spun around for a moment opening his mouth to catch the rain and laughing to himself as all the numb feelings he had, were swept away by the cool weather. It had been a while since he had smiled, since he wanted to by himself. But as he spun around, the action made him remember John; the happiness he felt, when they were joined; the flutter in his once cold chest. He stopped for a moment and made a choked noise as realization hit him. He loved him.

"I love you." Sherlock whispered trying it out in a cracked voice. The words were not new from his lips, as he had declared this to his mother at some point; but it felt so much more different.

As Sherlock opened his eyes, he saw John coming out the open doors, looking at Sherlock in disbelief as the slightly younger man smiled at him.

"John?" Sherlock said, he put out his hand to John. John didn't hesitate to grab it and the moment he did he was pulled into Sherlock's embrace. They stood there rocking slightly as the music below carried upwards.

"Sherlock, I-" Sherlock shook his head and pulled back to stare at the shorter man.

"John-" He said. And then John pushed forward and pressed his lips against Sherlock's cold one's, Sherlock froze for a moment, uncertain of what to do, and then his arms wrapped around John's shoulders and he gasped as John pushed against his lips.

As they pulled away for air, John leaned his head against Sherlock's and smiled.

"I love you." He said. Sherlock beamed at him.

"I love you too." John stared up at him in shock before reaching for the back of Sherlock's head and pushing them together more fiercely. Both of them clutching to one another as if life depended on it.

As they pulled apart, smiling at one another. A gunshot sounded. And John's grip ceased.

I'm watching 'To The Ends Of The Earth' At the moment, I have to say Benedict plays brilliantly, he hits his head at the start and I was wondering if it was an accident or acting, just looks so real. He's brilliant, I love him.

Anyway sorry for the cliff-hanger, I'm slightly evil! *shifty eyes*