Everything was frozen in place. It was all nearly non-existent. There was nothing there. Nothing around. Nothing in the flat of 221B.
The residents were staring into each other's eyes, close, very close.
John reached up, cupping Sherlock's cheek, his other hand resting gently on his neck. He leant up and kissed Sherlock, closing his eyes.
The detective closed his eyes, too, enjoying it until he felt John's thin lips pull away. They opened their eyes and stared at each other. John smiled. Sherlock could die for that smile.
Suddenly, time caught up. They were standing in the living room again. Sherlock's cheeks turned a little pink. “Wow… John…” He whispered.
John slung his arms over Sherlock's shoulders. He leant in, and they kissed again.
Sherlock set his hands on John's waist, leaning in and kissing him. When John pulled away, Sherlock would let him, then stare at him longingly. Oh, the kisses were so sweet, and John looked amazing. His eyes were sparkling.
John let one of his hands venture to the jungle that was Sherlock's hair. He played with the curls, continuing the sweet, gentle kisses. This felt so amazing.
They didn't stop for awhile. It was a chain reaction. One kiss, their first kiss, lead to multiple others.
They didn't mind, though. John was quite talented. Sherlock was learning, but John liked how he didn't know exactly what to do. It was very endearing.