A.N. So I found this on my computer. Over a year after I had written it XD It's a short epilogue for The Eye of the Beholder, my first story.

The rest of the day went by in a rush. Everything seemed narrowed down to the two men on the bed, holding onto each other as if they were afraid that one of them would disappear if the other let go. It was clear that Sherlock was not used to feel like he did, he was not used to being scared, especially not when it concerned somebody else than himself. For Sherlock, fear had always been associated with excitement, John knew, and it had lead to more than one instance when he had to save Sherlock's life just because he wanted a tiny little bit more out of the experience. But now it was different, and John was almost glad to know that Sherlock was capable of showing this very human and basic characteristic and he wondered if Sherlock had actually stopped caring for others on an emotional level, because he knew that he had the ability to hurt them and that he put most people in danger just by being around them.

Just like John. And John wondered why he had managed to penetrate that wall and found a way through to Sherlock's emotions. But then again, he didn't need to worry about it, it was just the way it was and he would for once not try to understand Sherlock.

"John?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I really am."

"Sherlock, you're never sorry about anything."

"Well, that is not true. I just don't say it a lot."

John lifted his head to look at him. He had lain with his forehead pressed to Sherlock's collar bone, listening to him breathing.

"You don't have to apologise."

"But I do, don't you see?" he sighed, almost overly dramatic, and John decided against smiling. Sherlock gently ran a hand over his back. "I am sorry for almost getting you killed. You warned me, but then I thought that nothing would happen to me. I just did not calculate that he would go so far...not again. I hate that he's using you against me."

John placed a gentle kiss on his lips, drawing a small sigh from Sherlock. "I'm flattered, though."

Sherlock raised one eyebrow, tipping his head slightly as he did when he was absorbing new information.

"Well, apparently I'm important enough for you to be used against you. I don't think many people can say that about themselves. I mean, you would probably try to save Lestrade if he was held hostage, and definitely Mycroft, but overall, that makes me pretty special." He grinned, watching Sherlock's eyebrow move down again as he smiled.

"Well, I'm not sure about Lestrade."

John giggled, shyly reaching out to push Sherlock's hair out of his eyes. The gesture was so intimate that just the thought that he was allowed to do what probably no one had ever done to Sherlock excited him beyond reason.

"But yes, I guess that makes you special."

"Do you want some tea?" John asked, hoping that Sherlock would say no so they could just lie in bed for a little longer.

"Do you?" He should have known that Sherlock was not entirely hopeless when it came to reading him.

"Not really."

Sherlock smiled and pulled him close, this time wrapping both of his arms around John, embracing him tightly. "I've never done this before."

"What?" John pulled back to be able to see his face.

"Proper hugs."

John was both surprised and incredibly saddened by that confession.

"I've never had a physical relationship."

"Never loved?"

"John." I don't do love, John, obviously, it's just hormones and clichés and complications. Damn this, of course I love you.

He had to smile, widely, but hid his face against Sherlock's chest again, not wanting him to know that he could read his every thought in his eyes.

He wondered if Sherlock had read his confession in between the lines. He couldn't say it out loud, just as Sherlock couldn't and it was perfectly fine, because both of them knew and they did not need a definition.

"You know, we could just lie here forever and never get up again."

"Don't be silly, John," he started, already forming an elaborate explanation in his mind when he realised that John had not meant it literally.

"Always the romantic..."

"Oh come on." He looked very serious when John lifted his head again to catch his eye but when John started grinning, Sherlock couldn't stay serious.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"I'm not saying anything..." he was silenced by John's lips closing gently over his.

Again, Sherlock's hand came up behind his head, pulling him closer. He held onto him almost possessively and John was more than a little excited by that realisation. And Sherlock kissed so very well. John had never asked him about his experiences after Sherlock had quite clearly established that he did not do relationships on their first day together; but judging by the way he kissed, he must have experienced before. That thought made John giggle and he broke the kiss, clasping his hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to silence himself.

Sherlock looked like he couldn't decide whether to be amused and offended. "What?"

"I can't," he gasped. "I can't explain. It's nothing."

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No," John was quick to make sure that Sherlock wouldn't think his inexperience posed a problem. "No, you're just really good at this."

Sherlock blushed, obviously having been prepared for constructive criticism but not a compliment.

"I'm just ... happy, I guess."

Sherlock looked at him for a long time, his eyes bright with tears. Eventually he took a deep breath and pulled John in for another kiss. "You're happy too," John stated once he'd kissed away the tears.

"Yes. Yes, I think I am."