"Dammit, Sherlock. Why do you always leave the flat such a mess?" John sighed as he walked through the door, slamming it shut behind him. He put the groceries into the kitchen in the cupboards and the refrigerator. Once he was done, he came out to see if Sherlock was up and about.

Without a doubt, Sherlock was in his signature position: lying on the sofa with his palms pressed before his face. John wondered what Sherlock was picking apart in that brilliant mind of his. It could be any number of things, since he was working on four cases at the moment. John grabbed the paper and plopped down into his comfy chair. Just as he was opening the paper and scanning the headlines, Sherlock spoke up.

"John, bring me my mobile phone." John glanced over at Sherlock, who remained in his position, eyes grazing the ceiling. "Where is it?" John asked, knowing it would be rather within Sherlock's reach. "It's in my coat pocket." Sherlock replied in a steady tone, breaking his stare at the ceiling and watching John rise from his chair.

Rising quickly. He is not upset by the fact that I have asked him to complete a task I could have easily completed on my own. Head slightly crooked. He is in an inquisitive position, obviously wondering what I am solving. Hands and brow perspiring. He is experiencing a high amount of nervousness, stress, or pleasure at my order. Eyes averted. Obvious nervousness at my watching him cross the room.

John watched Sherlock stare at him as he crossed the small living area and knew there was something up. Sherlock always remained focused on his deductions an nothing else, especially when he was in deep thought as he had just been. John averted eye contact with Sherlock and came up to his flatmate's side, reaching for the mobile phone in his coat pocket. Sherlock said, "John, I love you."

John 's breath caught. He looked at Sherlock and met a fierce stare. Both remained silent. John was still holding the flap of Sherlock's coat. "What?" he asked, once he could find even a single word.

Breath caught. Eyes boring into mine. Hands clammier than before. Heart beating fast. Frozen. Confused.

"I love you, John." He repeated. "What do you mean, Sherlock?" John asked. Sherlock did not waste his time or lie. "You are the only person that has accepted my odd habits completely and you understand my love of the peculiar and dangerous cases I take on. You are the same as I am. You are understanding as well, making up for my general lack of emotion and care. You make up for my social mistakes and people generally take a liking to you so that they are not offended nearly as much by me. You make me smile, even though I haven't done so in years. You are different, Dr. John Watson. That is why I am in love with you."

John groped at the blank canvas that was currently his brain, trying to piece together his confusion to make a sentence. Sherlock loves me. He thought. He smiled and felt numb, replying "I love you, Sherlock. You are so critical and crude when talking to others, but I understand exactly what you mean. You seek the disorder of the world and I can do so easily as a please on your side. You make me feel needed when you constantly ask me to do things for you. You are damned attractive, to top it off." Sherlock chuckled and pulled John down to his side and looked into John's eyes.

"John Watson, you are something else." He said, softly planting his lips upon John's. John took in a short breath and the two kissed for what seemed like hours, touching each others' faces, necks, and chests, unable to contain their underlying desire for one another's intimate company.

After they were catching their breaths, John asked, "What did you need me to get your mobile phone for, Sherlock?" and Sherlock said, "I just wanted you to feel my heart beating, because so many people have ventured to say that I do not have one. I wanted you to know that I do have a heart that quickens its pace when I know you are around. It is very odd to feel this love, but I feel it and I wanted you to know I do." John chuckled and Sherlock looked perplexed. "What is it, John?" He asked.

"Nothing Sherlock, I just never thought you'd have to confirm the existence of your heart to a veteran. We share a type of heart and I have connected with you since that first day at the hospital. You have a heart that I have treasured too long now." John said, smiling.

With that, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson spent the remainder of the night recalling their untold thoughts and laughing as they hadn't for years, glad to confide and love each other as they could then and forever more until one or both of them fell into death.