Sherlock paced feverishly around the sitting room, unable to sit still. John had spent the day at work and he would be arriving home any minute now. Today was the day Sherlock would tell his friend how he felt about him and the thought alone made the consulting detective feel more nervous than he had ever felt in his life. Every possible scenario played itself in his mind: John could return his feelings and they try to have a romantic relationship; John did not return his feelings and they somehow would get past this, or their friendship fell apart; they try to have a romantic relationship and it worked, or it failed and their friendship suffered in result. Many more scenarios entered Sherlock's mind and they all made his head spin.

He sighed heavily and sat in his chair, going over everything Lestrade and Mrs Hudson had told him. They had met several times at Lestrade's flat, concocting the perfect love confession. The consulting detective had hated those meetings: they were dull, but he also knew that they were necessary. Demonstrating love and affection were two things that he was not skilled with, and Lestrade and Mrs Hudson knew it. They had taught him how to profess his love to someone, and made him repeat himself until he got it right (practicing on Mrs Hudson had made it a little awkward, but Sherlock had forced himself to pretend that she was John, which had helped marginally). The consulting detective kept reciting everything he learned, mostly as a reminder but also as a way to calm his nerves.

The downstairs door opened and closed and tired footsteps came up the stairs. Sherlock tensed and took several deep breaths before getting on his feet. The door opened and John came inside, looking weary. The consulting detective watched his friend take off his jacket and hang it up before collapsing into his chair.

"Long day?" Sherlock asked, trying to sound like his usual indifferent self.

"Yeah." John rubbed his eyes. "It was a nightmare, really. I've always thought that you were the most ungrateful patient in existence but it turns out that there are people worse than you."

"Really? That must have been quite a shock for you."

John gave a tired laugh. "I suppose it was. I didn't think there could be anyone worse than you when it comes to being a patient."

"Stranger things have happened."

"That is very true."

Sherlock smiled a little before fiddling with his sleeve. "Um… Would you like some tea?" he asked awkwardly.

His friend blinked and raised his eyebrows. "You're offering me tea? All right, what did you do? Or what will you do? I still remember you putting what you thought might have been drugged sugar into my coffee during that Baskerville case."

"Nothing. I know you like to have tea after a long day."

John still looked suspicious. "Well… if you promise not to put anything in it, I would like some."

The consulting detective nodded and headed to the kitchen. He began making the tea, taking several deep breaths once more. He kept inventing excuses as to why he shouldn't go ahead with his plan, the latest one being that John was very tired. Sherlock roughly shook his head and pulled himself together. He had to do this, or else he might end up watching the man he loved be with someone else. Sherlock gathered his wits as the kettle whistled and he finished preparing the tea before bringing it into the sitting room. He gave John a cup, who thanked him, and went to sit in his chair.

"You've kept your promise, right?" John asked, eyeing the tea.

"I am a man of my word, John."

"Mmhmm." The doctor sniffed the tea before taking a careful sip. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he drank his tea. "There doesn't seem to be anything in it."

"What did I tell you?"

"All right, I believe you. Thank you for the tea."

Sherlock nodded and took another sip, keeping his eyes on John. The doctor sank lower into his chair and drank his tea, looking content. The consulting detective watched him for a while before putting his cup aside and stared at John until the doctor glanced up at him.

"Yes, Sherlock?" John asked quietly.

"Uh…" Try as he might, Sherlock couldn't get the words out. He closed his eyes and remembered what Lestrade and Mrs Hudson told him. He pulled himself together and open his eyes, finding John looking at him questioningly.

"Yes?" John said.

"I… I wanted to talk to you about something," Sherlock replied nervously.

"About what?"

"About… what's being going on with me this week. Because you were right: something was happening to me and I had been trying to deal with it on my own."

His friend quickly straightened up in his chair and set his tea aside. "I knew it," he said. "I bloody well knew it: you've been acting strange all week. What's been going on? How can I help?"

"I've received help for it already from Lestrade and Mrs Hudson."

"Wait… You went to them and not me?"

"I went to Lestrade. Mrs Hudson figured out what was happening on her own and confronted me. She is more perceptive than I give her credit for."

"Why did you go to Greg? Why didn't you come to me?"

"Because… Because this wasn't something I could approach you with. I initially didn't want any kind of help but I was at my wits' end. Lestrade had offered to hear me out and I eventually decided to take that offer."

"More like reluctantly."

Sherlock sighed heavily. "Yes," he said, slightly annoyed by John's remark. "Anyway, Lestrade had shed some light on what was going on and while I didn't want to accept his answer, I knew deep down that he was right. This is where Mrs Hudson came in. She confronted me about what was going on and made me understand that the best thing to do was to accept what was happening. It turns out she was right, and if you ever tell her I admitted that, I will set every single one of your beloved jumpers on fire."

John rolled his eyes. "Fine, I won't tell her. But, apart from resisting everything being a part of your nature, why didn't you want to accept Greg's answer if you knew he was right?"

"Because it went against everything I believed in," Sherlock replied. "You know how I am, John: I only want what is logical. What's being going with me has nothing to do with logic, far from it."

"All right… Now my next question: why couldn't you approach me with this? I'm your friend, Sherlock. I'm here for you if there's anything you need help with."

Here it was, the part Sherlock was dreading; the part that could cost him his friendship with John. The consulting detective had a brief moment of panic before giving himself a mental shake and taking a deep breath. He had to do this, no matter how much his mind was screaming at him not to.

"Because…Because it concerned you," Sherlock quietly admitted, not meeting his friend's eye.

John raised his eyebrows so high that they nearly touched his hairline. "Me?" he said. "What do I have to do with any of this?"

"Everything. Absolutely everything."

John blinked. "What? But… How?"

Sherlock swallowed hard and got on his feet, making his way towards the window. His heart was beating hard against his chest and he stared at the street as he took some more deep breaths. Once again he was fighting the impulse to run but he forced himself to stay. He shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to calm himself.

"Sherlock?" John asked uncertainly. "What's going on?"

The consulting detective slowed turned back to his friend and looked into his eyes. It took a moment for him to find his voice, but he eventually managed to a few words out.

"W-Well… You see… The thing is…" Sherlock stammered nervously.

"Sherlock, just spit it out!" John exclaimed.

"I'm in love with you!"

He didn't mean to blurt out the words like that: they just suddenly came out of his mouth before he could stop them. Sherlock slapped a hand over his mouth as he watched as John's eyes widen to the size of small plates as he registered those words. The consulting detective slowly lowered his hand and nervously gazed at his friend.

"John?" Sherlock said tentatively.

John didn't move. He kept staring at Sherlock, shock clearly written on his face. The consulting detective closed his eyes and curled his hands into fists. This was exactly what he feared: Lestrade and Mrs Hudson hadn't believed him when he had told them that this would backfire, and here was the proof of his statement. He needed to run, and run far.

"Sherlock…" John finally said, speaking quietly.

"I-I'm sorry…" Sherlock replied. He was not going to stand there and listen to John's rejection. "I shouldn't have said that. I'll get out of your way."

With that, Sherlock hurried out of the flat and rushed down the stairs without taking his coat and scarf. This was why he divorced himself from love and all other emotion: the pain was too unbearable. It was going to take a long time before he would able to look at John in the eye again.

"No, Sherlock! WAIT!"

The consulting detective paused by the door, a hand on the doorknob. He took a moment before reluctantly turning around. John was standing at the top of the stairs, watching him. The doctor slowly started to come down, never taking his eyes off Sherlock. The consulting detective remained where he was, fighting the urge to run out the door.

John stopped in front of him and looked up at him. "Did you really mean that?" he asked, sounding almost breathless. "Are you actually in love with me?"

Sherlock nodded, looking down at his shoes. "Yes," he replied quietly. "Don't ask me how it happened; I don't even know. But it did, and I understand that you don't return my feelings."

"Sherlock, why don't you actually let me tell you how I feel about this instead of making assumptions? Aren't you the one always saying that one should always gather all the data before forming conclusions?"

"Because I know you're not gay. You've made it clear that you love women."

Gentle fingers took Sherlock's chin and raised his head, making him look into John's eyes. Sherlock tried to determine his friend's thought process but he was completely unreadable. The consulting detective could not figure out if this was a good or bad thing.

"I want you to listen very carefully to what I am about to say, okay? Can you do that?" John said gently.

"Something tells me I don't have much of a choice," Sherlock replied. "Fine. Say your piece."

"Yes, I've gone out with many women over the years, I'm not going to deny it. But none of those women mean anything to me because I didn't fall in love with a single one of them. There is one person, however, who has caught my attention in a way no one else has. While they may drive me mad every so often, they have made me happier than I've ever been."

"Is it that Sally you went out with the other night?"

John blinked and then shook his head. "No, it's not. Things didn't work out with her; I'm never going to see her again. I'm talking about you, Sherlock."

It was now Sherlock's turn to blink and he stared at his friend in astonishment. "M-Me?" he stammered.

"Yes, you. You are capable of being downright maddening at times, but my life has become so much better since I've met you: I've never been this happy with anyone. It has come to the point that I cannot imagine living my life without you."

"W-What are you saying here, John?"

John smiled softly as he took Sherlock's hand. The consulting detective's heartbeat accelerated at the touch. "What I'm saying," John said, "is that I have fallen in love with you, Sherlock Holmes, and that I have been in love with you for some time."

Sherlock couldn't believe his ears. He stared at his friend and tried to detect any possible trace of deception but he could not find any. He tentatively laced their fingers together, unable to keep himself from trembling a little.

"You really mean that? You're actually in love with me?" Sherlock whispered.

"Yes, I am. I would never lie about something like that," John said, gently stroking the consulting detective's cheek with his other hand.

Sherlock smiled softly, feeling as if a weight had been lifted. John returned the smile before standing on the tip of his toes and gently pressing his lips against Sherlock's. The consulting detective returned the kiss, timidly at first before gaining confidence. He couldn't help but smile as John wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. The consulting detective slipped his own arms around the doctor, feeling happier than he had ever felt.

They soon broke the kiss for air and they smiled at each other.

"You know what I think? I think we should go out on a date tonight," John said lightly.

"A date?"

"Yes, a date. That's what people do when they're in a relationship."

"Okay, I got it. What do you have in mind?"

"How about we go to Angelo's? Nothing would make him happier than to be our waiter on our first real date."

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. "That's true," he said. "All right. Let's do that."

"Great. Come on, let's go upstairs and get ready."

The consulting detective nodded and followed John up the stairs. While he did so, he glanced down and saw Mrs Hudson poke her head out around her door. She looked up at him and he gave her a smile. She appeared to gather everything she needed to know from his smile and she grinned broadly before retreating back into her flat. Sherlock chuckled quietly before stepping inside his own and closing the door behind him.