Nicotine

Abrupt

Dawn was breaking over London, rays of sunshine probing into the darkest corners of 221b. Dust motes danced in the pale light of the morning. Sherlock stood up, having suffered a sleepless night after what had occurred the previous evening. He took a deep breath and focused his thoughts. He strode into the kitchen.

John stood at the table with a mug of coffee. He appeared haggard and worn, black bags under his eyes, dressed haphazardly in loose tartan trousers and an old tshirt. He looked up from his coffee the moment Sherlock entered.

"John I wou-" The detective began purposefully.

"Sherlock."

"John, I'd like to-"

"Sherlock."

"If I may, I would like to-"

"Sherlock."

Sherlock paused.

"John, I would like to apologise for my emotional outburst in the early hours of this morning. Normally I am able to divorce myself completely from my emotions but clearly I must strive harder to do so completely. It won't happen again."

Sherlock moved to the kettle and began to prepare himself tea.

"So that's it?" John said incredulously.

"Pardon?"

"So that's it. That's all you have to say on the subject? It won't happen again and I'm supposed to pretend it didn't happen, at all?"

Sherlock continued to make tea. He took his mug over to his chair and sat down. John followed him, sitting opposite.

"Sherlock?"

"I have a case beside Hyde Park. Lestrade asked me to-"

"Nope. Sherlock...stop. I'm not pretending...we are not doing this like this." John said, a touch of anger in his voice.

Sherlock rose and stretched.

"Doing what like what? Lestrade wants me to be there in an hour, I'd like to have you there as medica-"

John stood up and kissed him.

His rough lips collided with Sherlock's, catching him completely by surprise. Sherlock jerked away in shock but was kissing him back instantly, soft lips pressed against John's, his hands buried in his tshirt,  John's hand in Sherlock's hair and one cupping his jaw, mouths synchronised and pulses elevated- and if they had been open, their pupils dilated. Hot flush crept up Sherlock's cheeks and he lived through his lips, kissing him, loving him with every particle, every atom he possessed-

Sherlock pulled away abruptly.

"I can't." Sherlock said.

John stared at him.

"I can't." Sherlock repeated, taking a step back.

"Ohhh jesus. Holy..." John looked away mortified, raising a hand to his tingling lips.

"This is that- don't start that...caring is a disadvantage thing."

Sherlock said nothing.

"MYCROFT KNOWS NOTHING!" John roared. "And let's face it, you're no expert either. Caring is so important,  Sherlock. Why else do you think you're still alive, why I'm still alive? Do you think if neither of us had cared about each other we would both be standing here? We wouldn't. The cabby? The Reichenbach? You  can't let Irene be your example because she was a bloody idiot."

Sherlock's lips were pink and slightly swollen.

"How long, Sherlock. Tell me."

"Years." Sherlock said hoarsely.

"You've loved me for years."

"Yes."

"So, after countless girlfriends and a wife, when I finally kiss you you tell me you can't go through with it?" John asked.

Sherlock glanced away.

"Fuck you, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked up, and in one swift motion pulled John close and kissed him hard.

"But I'm a sociopath." Sherlock whispered.

"But I'm straight." John whispered back.

Sherlock's phone cut through their silence as it rang.