"Broken?"

"Just the right one. The left is sprained, couple broken toes," answered John. "See those chocolates over there? One box is for you. They're from Molly."

In the time it took the fire department to extinguish the fire, transport the trio to the hospital, and treat their burns and wounds, the entire school had caught wind of their tale. Now John sat in his hospital bed, his legs in casks and suspended in the air.

Sherlock nodded at the chocolates and entered the room awkwardly.

"What about you?" asked John.

Sherlock held up his hands, which were wrapped in cloth. "Just some burns. I imagine you've got the same. And Harry?"

"They're giving her extra treatment for all the smoke, since she's so small. She should be fine though. Her and my dad are right down the hall."

Sherlock nodded again and a silence stretched across the small room.

"I'm sorry," proclaimed Sherlock quickly. "You and Harry don't deserve to get mixed up in all this. I talked to Mycroft and I'm transferring schools… to London, actually. A boarding school. Anyway, the farther away I am the simpler your life becomes so—"

"Sherlock," John cut in, a bit shocked. "I don't care if Jim's still out there, or if I almost died, or if the entire school thinks I'm queer. You're my best friend, and I don't regret having met you."

Sherlock didn't move. He hadn't anticipated this response, and now he just hovered between the strange sensation to argue and to kiss him. Sentiment.

"I thought," he cleared his throat. "I thought you wanted nothing to do with me."

John rolled his eyes. "I don't think it matters much what I want. What I need is to have everything to do with you. How can I even put this? You're strange and wonderful, and terrible and beautiful, and self-destructive, arrogant, dangerous, brilliant. You're just, you're Sherlock Holmes."

"And you're John Watson," answered Sherlock hesitantly.

"And maybe that's just it. Maybe we belong together."

A goofy grin spread across Sherlock's face, and he suddenly felt inclined to move forward. He adjusted himself into the bed beside John, curling against him. John's hand found their way to the mess of dark curls, and Sherlock ran his hand in circles over John's chest.

"So you're certain, then? You still want to be my friend?" asked Sherlock.

"Yes, you idiot." He placed a kiss on the top of Sherlock's head. Encouraged, Sherlock propped himself up to look down at his friend. The bags were missing from beneath his eyes now, and a soft smile graced his lips.

"Can I kiss you, John?"

He nodded, and Sherlock lowered himself slowly. John's kisses were hesitant, but as the two boys adjusted, he quickly took the lead—parting Sherlock's lips, teasing his clever tongue, and tilting his head until a soft sigh escaped from Sherlock's mouth. Like magnets, they closed the space between them.

Sherlock had never kissed anyone before, but he quite liked kissing John.

"John," he mumbled against his lips. "You've already started on those chocolates, haven't you?"

John smiled. "Making deductions? Even now?"

"I can taste them," he hummed happily. "Remind me to thank Molly later."

John laughed into Sherlock's smile.

Sherlock spent the rest of the hour feeding John chocolates, stealing his kisses, and detailing the stupid look that was bound to bestow Anderson's face once the couple snogged right in front of him.

Sherlock had never been the romantic sort. Far from it—he was sure he was meant to be alone. But whatever part of Sherlock that was made of stone now felt light as air. He exhaled, his breath warm against his lover's ear, and whispered again and again how much he loved him.

That's it folks. Hope you enjoyed! Please PLEASE review?! Also, more Johnlock to come so stay subscribed! Love you all! Thanks for reading!