They were laying on the stairs. It had been a good evening, a bit weird, a bit surprising, but a very good evening. John had never thought that he and Sherlock would ever go out to pubs and drink - amounts! John smiled at the thought, because this wasn’t just a strange dream from yesterday, this was reality, and this was now.
Sherlock suddenly opened his eyes, forcing John to slightly flinch by surprise, he had been absolutely sure that Sherlock’s been sound asleep, heavy breathing and slow eye movements.
They were silent for a few minutes, not saying a word to each other. Sherlock slowly leaned towards John. Their foreheads touched.
John couldn’t think clearly, all sorts of questions spun around in his head but he pushed them away. He only wanted to get closer, to feel Sherlock’s breath against his face.
Millimeter apart, John could feel Sherlock’s hesitancy, but John wasn’t hesitant anymore. He only wanted to get closer, and closer, and closer. Their noses touched, giving John a shiver and it made Sherlock make a low groaning sound, and then it was only their desirous mouths, crashing into each other, tongues explored, eyes closed. John had never in his life felt so sure of anything than this. He, himself and Sherlock. Them, exploring each other’s bodies with excited hands, finally being able to touch the other.
John could feel tears in his eyes (he wasn’t even sure why), as well as he could feel Sherlock’s. It wasn’t often he had been witness to Sherlock crying, and it only made John want Sherlock even more, he wanted to make him feel safe, being even closer - if possible. They put their arms around each other in a long passionate kiss, but suddenly, with a gasp they pushed away from one another, like magnets with equal sides they bounced apart.
Another silent moment, both trying to regain their breath, they finally met the other’s gaze with shocked faces. John wanted to say something, to make sure this was alright, to wipe out all sorts of uncertainty, but it wasn’t alright. He was a soon-to-be married man, and this, Sherlock, was his best friend, nothing more nothing less.
It was Sherlock who opened his mouth first, and John only wanted him to keep quiet, placing small kisses on his neck to make him groan of desire. He wanted to do anything to prevent Sherlock from utter a single word, only wanting to stay like this forever, because he knew that this moment would never come again, that this moment would be long forgotten by tomorrow, that they would just ignore that this had ever happened.
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