John Watson had been living with Sherlock Holmes for two months now, and their trust in one another was binding. Sherlock was always off on cases, closely followed by John, who came along for the rush of adrenaline, and to give a medical opinion when needed.

John had grown rather attached to the mysterious man, and had often wondered what his life would be like if he hadn't met him.

Dull, safe, sad, happy, depressing... the negatives and positives shot backwards and forwards through John's head.

Sherlock was watching John with a curious expression on his face, his blue-green eyes glistening in the sunlight streaming in through the window. The dust that sparkled somewhat in the beam of light floated around Sherlock, like an aura of diamonds.

And he looked gorgeous.

Wait, what?

John's thoughts had betrayed him again, the confirmed platonic relationship he had with Sherlock breaking down in his head. Platonic, he thought firmly, as he tore his gaze away from Sherlock, trying to concentrate on the television. Crap telly on, as per usual. Anything that didn't involve Sherlock was boring.

John chided his thoughts, and tried to make his mind go blank. Don't think about Sherlock, he thought, don't think about that gorgeous, single, inviting man sat across the room from you.

John groaned audibly, and slumped on the sofa, sighing as he leant backwards. Sherlock's head flicked towards John, and he gave him a calculating, yet oddly warm, look of confusion. John felt a tingling warmth in his stomach as he met Sherlock's eyes, smiling gently at him. Sherlock didn't really smile back, but his eyes sparkled, and the corners of his mouth turned up oh-so-slightly.

John felt a sudden impulse crash into his head, and he lifted himself up off the sofa, and walked slowly over to Sherlock. He looked confused, but happy all the same. John stood in front of him, and leant down slightly, before pressing his lips softly to Sherlock's.

Sherlock seemed surprised for a moment, and didn't respond to John's rush of affection, before getting to grips with the situation, and kissing John back.

Sherlock stood up slowly, still kissing John, and slipped his arms around the other man's waist, smiling into the kiss. He held John close to him, breathing in his heavenly scent, trying to imprint it on his senses permanently.

They stood there for several minutes, wrapped around each other, kissing deeper and deeper with every passing second. John liked this. He liked it a lot. Just plain old kissing, nothing more.

Sherlock pressed himself harder and harder into John, moaning quietly. John mumbled something unintelligible against Sherlock's lips, and then his phone buzzed.

He broke away from Sherlock, leaving him looking shocked and put-out. He picked up his phone, and groaned as he realised the text was from Mycroft.

He opened the text, and read it with reluctance.

At last. How long I have waited for this. -MH