50 shades of deductions

Whats wrong?

Previously: john sat down on the couch with his tea and Sherlock broke the silence by asking him: "john, you're able to explain emotions, correct?"

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"I guess so Sherlock, I mean just as well as the next guy"

john replied to the odd question his beloved detective was asking him. To be honest he was confused as to why Sherlock was questioning emotions.

"Well, john, how would you tell if you're in love? How would you tell someone you think you love them?"

Although john was now even more confused and curious, he thought it best to answer the detective before asking any questions.

"Um, I guess you'd tell if you love someone by the way you feel around them. Maybe you feel lightheaded, mesmerized, or like you're walking on air when you're near them, you know that sort of thing." John paused, wondering how he had been able to answer that part of sherlock's question without skipping a beat. It just flowed out of him.

"How, uh, how would you hint at someone that you think you, um,
l-love them?" Sherlock asked john again, feeling his pale cheeks flush an almost cherry red.

"Well," john started, while pausing a moment to ponder his response. "be really nice to them, give them a gift, take them to dinner, or if all else fails, just tell them." John stopped again to look at sherlock's beautiful eyes. They where like an ocean after a wild storm, the blue, the colour of a summer sky, the green, as bright as the grass on that very same summer eve. The colours cascaded and danced together making the beautiful symphony of colour that was sherlock's eyes.

A moment had passed before john noticed that Sherlock had left. He wondered why Sherlock had been questioning the feeling of love, and if he actually grew to love someone. John was both pleased and saddened with this thought, as he always wished that Sherlock would find someone to love, but he always wished it would be him.
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Sherlock had leapt off the couch as soon as he had gotten the answer, hoping john wouldn't notice his absence. As nervous as he was, he was going to show john he liked him, somehow.

The icy wind blew the detective's unruly dark curls into his eyes, as he walked down the street to Angelo's. He walked inside, out of the bitter cold and made a reservation for john and himself at 6:45. Sherlock asked Angelo if he would be able to make it a 'romantic' table setting, somewhere in the back of the restaurant.

"Of course Sherlock, anything for you!" Came the owners response. Sherlock thanked him and left the diner, as swiftly as his long legs would allow him.

He soon came to the flat, swinging the door behind him, as he whipped his coat off, and hung it up on the rack.

"Dinner reservations tonight at 6:45, john. Be ready."

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I'm sorry it's so short, I just wanted to get something up. I'll try harder next time. I know it's not good enough to post but...I'm trying. I hope you like it, maybe.