Sherlock looked at the door in front of himself. He held up his hand, but put it back down before he could knock. He tried again, but failed, and tried again, but failed.
He sighed softly. “What if he doesn't want to see me?” He asked himself. “Wasn't the purpose of moving away to never see me again?”
Sherlock ran a hand through his messy hair and trailed the scruff growing on his cheeks. He held out his hand and sighed, observing the shaking. He closed his eyes and mumbled to himself.
Then, out of nowhere, the door flung open and John walked out, right into Sherlock, their lips connecting together for only a moment.
He jumped back, “Ah-- Sherlock! What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to ignore Sherlock's look.
“I need help.” Sherlock said, moving closer. John shook his head.
“No, I can't help you. I need to get to work.”
“John,” Sherlock whispered, tears in his eyes, but he didn't let them roll down his cheeks. “I need you…” he whispered, setting his hand on John's shoulder. “I-I can't stop… I can't stop taking…”
John felt his heart crack. He closed the door behind him and put an arm around Sherlock's back, walking with him. “Let's get you home now. Let's get you home.” He sighed, letting half Sherlock's weight just lean heavily into him.
They went home and to Sherlock's room. John laid him down and pulled a blanket over him, leaning down and kissing his cheek.
“John…” Sherlock was a little surprised by his actions. He blushed softly and looked away. “I'm… I'm sad you moved…” he whispered, turning back to John and looking at him.
John sighed and set a hand on Sherlock's stomach, then put his other hand in Sherlock's messy hair. “I regret moving, too. Every day, I wish I was in this flat.”
“C-can you move back? You won't have to get a babysitter for Rosie…” he smiled at John, looking into his eyes.
John smiled softly. “I would love to move back in. I've just been very unstable since Mary died.”
“Me too.” Sherlock said, but not for the same reason as John. He was unstable ever since John moved away with Mary.
“I'll move back..” John whispered.
“C-can I kiss you?” Sherlock asked, looking up at his friend, who he thought always had an incredibly beautiful face.
“Kiss me? What?” John was confused. Sherlock sat up and smiled at him.
“I want to kiss you…” he said, leaning in and kissing John's lips softly, sweetly.
John was still for a moment, but then, he returned the kiss and soon it became passionate. John pushed Sherlock onto his back, pressing him against the bed and kissing him passionately.
Sherlock moaned really quickly. He blushed, embarrassed, and looked away. John cupped his cheeks and turned them back to stare into those breathtaking eyes.
“Oh gosh,” John said, breathless. “I never… I never thought it'd feel so great to kiss you, Sherlock.” He smiled.
Sherlock smiled as well, his cute, innocent smile of pure happiness.
“But I have just one question.”
Sherlock tilted his head. “What?”
“Are you going to keep that?” John asked, laughing and pointing to Sherlock's small beard.
“Shut up,” Sherlock smiled, laughing. “No, I'm not going to keep it. I just haven't been taking care of myself.”
“We'll fix that.” John booped Sherlock's nose, grinning.