John's POV
Sherlock Holmes is, by far, my best friend and it would never cross my mind to ruin our friendship, because it is something truly special. However, there's a bit of a catch. I think I'm in love with Sherlock Holmes. Yes, he is amazing, clever and all that. And though nobody seems to know, he's actually quite caring.
Most people think he's a sociopath, which he is, but he's the most brilliant one there is. "The world's only consulting detective." It's quite cool, to be honest. Sherlock Holmes is a great man.
Most people think we're a couple. Everyone from Mrs Hudson to Irene Adler. I'm pretty sure even Mycroft and Moriarty ship it. Even Mary, and she's dead.
I wish they were right. Because God, I love Sherlock Holmes. There's just something about him. Something so intriguing, something so captivating. He's unique. He is, pretty much, my soulmate.
But there's one slight problem: Sherlock considers himself "married to his work" and he seems to have no room for love whatsoever in that mind palace of his. But that doesn't stop the fact that I am hopelessly in love with him; it never will.
Sherlock's POV
"John!" I call from the living room of our apartment in Baker Street. Immediately, he walks down the corridor from his room to the lounge.
"What is it, Sherlock?"
"I need to ask you a question," I say.
"Go for it," he responds.
"You're more human than me, right?"
"More times than not, yes," he says, laughing.
"I was wondering if you could explain to me exactly how the emotion of love works. You see, there's a bit of a gap in my mind palace, and I need to know about it for a case I'm working on."
"Well..." he begins, "love is complicated. Very complicated, in fact. It can either mess up your life completely or it can cure you of every problem you have. Love is when you feel attached to a person, you'd do anything for them, you notice little things about them no one else does..." He paused for a second, his voice drifting off as he looked at me. "Sorry, um, where was I? So um, it's quite beautiful actually, falling in love. You become a better person for them because you don't want to hurt them, you think they're amazing and stuff..."
"Have you ever felt love, John?" I ask him.
"Of course... Well, most of the times I thought I was in love but, really, I wasn't."
"Are you in love right now?"
"Perhaps," he says, shifting in his chair.
"With whom?"
"Oh, I'm not telling you. Deduce it yourself."
"Fair enough," I respond. I sit up and move to sit next to him in his arm chair.
"Sherlock? What-?"
"I think I'm in love, John."
John's POV
My heart stops. Please let it be me, please let it be me, please, God, be kind.
"Really? I thought you were married to your work."
"And I am, but I'm willing to consider polygamy for this person." I look into his light blue eyes, trying to become him, to deduce who he's in love with, but I can't. I just hope it's me.
"Well then, you should make a move."
"How? I know nothing about this sort of stuff."
"What, would you like me to show you, Sherlock?"
"Well, yes, you have been the one to teach me how to be human. Have you not noticed? Whenever I compliment something, for example, I do it the same way as you, using the same adjectives at the same time. You always call me 'amazing' and 'brilliant' so that's how I compliment you. I get most of the human part of me from you, John. So teach me, how do I make a move?"
"Well, um..." My heart wouldn't stop hammering into my chest. Was I really about to make a move on Sherlock? Am I really the one who makes him human? "Well, you can do something like this..." I gently put my arm around him, my fingers on his ribs. A weird, warm, fuzzy feeling went from the tips of my fingers and it electrocuted me with warmth.
"Is that what people do when they're in love?" he asks.
"Um, yes, sometimes..."
"Now tell me, John, do people do this..." He kisses my cheek softly. "When they're in love?"
Ohmygod I might just melt.
"Sometimes, yes," I respond, my breath hitching in my throat.
"How about this?" He moves his lips down to my neck.
"Mhm..." My breathing goes slightly erratic, my heart beating faster than Olympic running champions. Sherlock touches my jaw with the tips of his fingers and turns my head to face him.
"How about this?" Before I can react, he has his mouth on mine. He moves it against mine tentatively at first, but he gradually picks up more passion into it. His hands are cupping my face and his head is tilted ever so slightly to make it easier for us to be closer. I move my body nearer to his and wrap my arms around him, wanting nothing more than to be close to him, to breathe him in and just let him engulf me. Sherlock Holmes, I am in love with you and there's nothing that anyone can do to stop that.
