Confessions
John gazed at Sherlock from across the table as they had dinner together at home.
Mariana had left for Spain this morning, because Christmas was just around the corner.
Sherlock and John had set up the Christmas tree together -- with all the decorations and everything -- and were just waiting for the Christmas Day to come.
The kitchen was dimly lit, and the table was surprisingly clean today.
John had been wanting to say something to Sherlock for a long time now. Talk about his feelings for him, specifically.
Ever since the two of them started their crime-solving journey, by solving the case of 'The Illustrious Client' together, Sherlock and John became quite close.
Over the course of time, John had fallen in love.
Who wouldn't? And no, this question was not just rhetoric. It was rather a challenge from John to everyone out there.
Anyone who got the opportunity to live with a guy like Sherlock -- lively, enthusiastic about almost anything the world had to offer, brilliant, kind, charming, and beautiful -- would not have it in them to resist him. Of this, John was absolutely certain.
John tried to bring himself back to the present moment and picked at his food on the plate with his spoon.
"It's not going to eat itself, Watson."
John looked up at Sherlock from his plate, and he was taken aback by the intensity with which Sherlock was looking at him, too, now.
Could it be that he too...?
John shook his head and sighed before finally starting to eat. "Yeah, of course." John sat straight and let out a fake laugh. "You're right."
"You're not here. Not mentally, at least," Sherlock declared. He leaned over the table and dropped his deep voice to a whisper. "Where are you?" he asked in a mock-scandalous tone.
That was it, John thought. He could not contain himself anymore. It was the season of confessions, after all. Or something like that. "Sherlock, I've been meaning to tell you something. This has been on my mind for a while now."
Sherlock's face became guarded. He looked down at his plate. "Really? Because I also want to tell you something."
John put down his spoon and held his breath. "Oh? Go on, then. You first."
Sherlock looked up at John through his long lashes with his big, brown eyes filled with an emotion John couldn't quite put his finger on.
"I wanted to tell you that... that when you sometimes sleep in after a long case, I come upstairs, over to your room, and I stand in the doorway to watch you sleep for a few moments."
John's heartbeat picked up speed, and he flushed up at Sherlock's words. "Why - why's that?" There it was -- his classic stutter, every time a situation like this came up.
Sherlock's eyes then hinted at some mischief. John did not miss Sherlock's subtle smirk either. "Because you snore so much. I think we really need to take you to a sleep clinic sometime." Sherlock bit his bottom lip, probably to resisting an urge to burst out laughing.
John rolled his eyes. "Alright, whatever. I'm going upstairs." He placed his hands on the table and made to get up and leave.
Sherlock dropped his silverware on his plate and grabbed John by both of his wrists, making him stay where he was seated. "Okay, okay. That's clearly not what you want to talk about right now. Tell me what it is."
"Promise me you won't laugh it off, even if you don't like what I'm about to say to you." John turned his wrists to hold Sherlock's hands in his own. He tried to appear dead serious.
Sherlock's face changed from looking amused to quite earnest. "I promise." He squeezed John's hands in reassurance.
"We've become quite close since we started solving crimes together, haven't we? So much has changed since then."
Sherlock gave him a silent nod.
"From me finding you really annoying in the beginning because of your late night violin playing sessions, among loads of other things, to..."
"To?" Sherlock demanded. His voice became hoarse.
John gazed into Sherlock's eyes some more, trying to gather enough courage to spit it out already. He inhaled deeply.
"To me now having come to a point where I can't imagine the rest of my life without you. To a point where I feel so scared when I don't see you around at home in the mornings for whatever reason." John swallowed. "Sherlock, I would feel so lost if you were to leave me at some point in the future, as though I were stranded in a desert. Completely alone."
Sherlock was staring at John with his lips parted. His face was still unreadable. "Why's that?"
"Can't you deduce it?" John said with his brow furrowed. "You do have enough data at this point!"
Sherlock shook his head. "I want to hear you say it. I need you to spell it out. You know I'm not the best person when it comes to reading between the lines." His voice was shaking.
John nodded in understanding. "I love you."
There, he said it. It was all out now.
John squared his shoulders, feeling oddly confident in that moment. Whatever the consequences, he felt ready to face them all.
"I - me too." Sherlock visibly swallowed. "Everything you said just now -- I feel the same way."
Sherlock looked like he wanted to say more, so much more, but he was not in the state to be more eloquent than that just yet.
John didn't need him to.
John smiled and leaned in towards Sherlock over the table.
Sherlock met him halfway and tilted his face to kiss John on the mouth. His lips went from hesitant to intense to desperate in a matter of seconds.
John mirrored all those feelings and much more. He grabbed Sherlock's face and began to pour all the passion and love he had been feeling for this man into the kiss.
They broke off the kiss after a while, feeling out of breath.
Sherlock and John locked eyes with each other and exchanged a knowing smile.
They continued to have dinner with their fingers intertwined.
Both of them were aware of the unspoken promise waiting for them—the rest of the night, perhaps even the rest of their lives.
**
Prompt: Confessions by @fluff-cember
Tags: @helloliriels @lisbeth-kk @jamielovesjam @keirgreeneyes @totallysilvergirl @topsyturvy-turtely @peanitbear @calaisreno @gaylilsherlock , etc.
