A/N: I have started the companion piece to this story of John's notebook entries, so if you care to read that, be sure to check my stories! Thanks for all the lovely reviews last chapter; never got so many before, hope to just as many this time around too. ;) Thanks for follows and favourites as well!

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John and Sherlock ended up kissing each other many more times. By the end of it, their faces were flushed, hair and clothes ruffled, out of breath and they were clung onto each other. John's hands were gripped tightly into Sherlock's white button down, his warm breath on Sherlock's neck. The younger man had a hand wrapped around the doctor's neck and the other digging into his hip but neither of them wanted to stop. They kept locking and unlocking at the lips as if they would never see each other again, or at least not be able to lay a finger on each other, and thusly they did not want to stop.

Their eyes were linked and carefully studying the other, like animals predicting their prey's next move. The doctor made the first one and coyly pushed the detective in the direction of a wall. He leapt onto the brunette's mouth and his hand went back into that head of hair, exploring the unruliness of those curls. The detective grabbed onto both of John's hips and held tightly. Their tongues glided past each other taking turns of exploring the other's mouth; John tasted like mint, Sherlock like metal. When it was the older man's turn to take the journey into the younger's mouth, the latter swiftly spun them 180 degrees and pushed the doctor against the wall.

John half-smiled, he wasn't surprised, Sherlock liked being in control. The detective pulled John's hips slightly into his and pressed himself against his flatmate. John's eyebrows rose for a moment at the sudden stimulation, never taking Sherlock for a sexual being. Then again, he wouldn't have taken Sherlock for someone who enjoyed kissing either.

The kiss grew deeper, the movements more frantic, the breaths uneven and soon John was pinned against the wall with no room for escape as Sherlock's body was entirely on top of his. The younger man had now taken to licking John's neck and John was moaning into the otherwise empty flat. He was grabbing onto every part of Sherlock's body, marking him through the clothes, reminders of the feelings he was giving John. Upon a particularly hard grab, the scientist accidentally bit down onto the doctor's neck but was pleased by the response.

John let out a loud groan and his eyes rolled back as his eyes shut; Sherlock surely didn't know but John's neck was his most sensitive spot and biting was what usually sent him over the edge. The brunette quickly picked up on this and put away this fact in his mind palace. He ran his tongue over the bitten spot and John sucked in his breath.

Through gritted teeth John whispered, "Harder."

Sherlock paused without moving his head from the current position and repeated, "Harder?"

John grunted and nodded his head once, remaining with his head tilted upwards, giving Sherlock plenty of room to go at. The detective bit down firmer and grabbed hold of one of John's wrists – his pulse was racing. He really was enjoying this. He sucked on John's neck in intervals of ten seconds before going back up and kissing John full on the mouth one last time. They loosely wrapped their arms around each other and rested their foreheads against each other. Once the younger man had left the pink mark on the good doctor, they both felt satisfied, for now anyway.

The blonde cleared his throat.

"I, uh, I really liked that," he laughed.

"Me too," Sherlock's head was tilted downwards but his eyes looking straight into John's.

The doctor smiled.

Sherlock walked over to the couch and sat down. He rested his elbows on his knees and looked straight ahead for several minutes before beginning.

"I don't want this to be the last time John. I don't want things to go 'back to normal' after this. Is…is that alright?"

John walked over and sat beside Sherlock. "Tha-that's perfectly alright Sherlock. I want things to continue going in this direction."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he paused. "Yeah. I…I've been waiting for this Sherlock. I mean, I didn't think it would ever happen but my god, how I wanted it to. You…you don't even know Sherlock."

Sherlock looked over at John, his face steady but his eyes swirling with colour. He felt like there was something between them, tying them together, marking them as counterparts. Two parts of a whole.

"Remember that day when you asked me if being shot could be compared to being hurt emotionally?"

Sherlock nodded.

"The reason I was so…so hurt, was because I was thinking about you. I-I wanted you so badly, I wanted to be with you but you told me you were 'married to your work,' and I knew I could never have you. And that hurt me Sherlock. That hurt me a bloody lot. Still does."

John's eyes were watery and he had stopped looking at the man he had just had his hands all over. He was blinking in quick succession hoping no water would flow from his eyes and put his head in his hands.

The scientist regretted never having realised that he had made such an impact on his flatmate; if he had known he even liked him that much… Sure, they were friends, but John didn't seem to be too obvious in his feelings for him. He wouldn't have ever prolonged this had he known.

He put a hand on the doctor's back and softly rubbed. I think this is supposed to make him feel better...I hope it does.

After a minute, John lifted his head and rubbed at his eyes, clearing them of water. He looked at Sherlock and softly smiled. The brunette's eyes were trained upon John's but the detective looked away, blushing to himself and muttering something about the "idiotic grin" on John's face. He laughed and took Sherlock's hand into his, lacing their fingers. The scientist was not used to this and was at first stiff but slowly relaxed into it. He didn't only want to kiss John and be physical; he wanted them to be together.