Johnlock Stories

Day 28: Admit It

Hi :) I have been feeling so bad lately because I haven't posted in MONTHS, I'm still working on the full story thing and I want to get quite a bit done before I start posting so I don't get overwhelmed and it's going alright, I have HORRIBLE writers block and I've had it for the longest time so today I've been really trying to get some writing done, but it's already 2:00 and I work at 4:00 so I dunno man. Anyway, here is a guilt-written chapter, I hope you enjoy, and I will try so hard to be more active. 

Also, I know it's not day 28 but I thought that if I just wrote the title you guys might think it was an authors note, so day 30 here we come! Probably not right away, definitely not, but we're gonna reach it eventually. 

*****

*JOHNS POV* 

The temptation was the worst part, my mind would scream at me and tell me to do something about this, that you miss every chance in life that you don't take. A coward is the only word to describe me, like a sitting duck I watch from afar, never brave enough to walk towards what I want, what I need.

Todays the day, I would tell myself, today's the day I'm going to put my cowardice aside and finally tell Sherlock Holmes that I love him, I've been in love with him, I would think that in my mind, multiple times a week, alas, the facade I pretended to possess would always fail me.

But today, today it will be different, I was struck with a certain impulse today, and I am telling Sherlock the truth about it all, the longing and desire, waiting for 'the right time' as I would say when I didn't go through with the plan I had started, an excuse, I always found an excuse for my lack of courage.

*NO ONES POV*

They were hit with a wave of humidity when they pulled open the heavy doors of the restaurant El Pacino, John had heard of this place from Mike Stamford, who was his number one supporter when it came to telling Sherlock about his real feelings. Mike suggested it as a place to go for the perfect atmosphere in order to make a move. John, against his better judgement, listened to Mike, he had to do this tonight.

Sherlock walked in front of John and followed the hostess to where they would be sitting, the restaurant was dimly lit and had a soft flow of violin music playing through invisible speakers, Mike was right, this is the perfect place to do this.

Sherlock took off his coat once they got to their booth, he threw it onto the leather seats and slid into one, John did the same and sat across from him, swearing Sherlock would be able to hear his heartbeat pounding through his chest.

John put two fingers to the pulse on his neck, it was a nervous tic that he found himself doing in anxiety-ridden situations, he felt his heart beating against his two fingers and focused on the steady beat, closing his eyes for a second, when he opened them back up Sherlock was watching him.

"You're nervous," he stated, John scoffed and pulled his hand away from his neck.

"I'm fine," Sherlock squinted his eyes, John knew he spotted his tic and saw how anxious he was, but he didn't want to do it right now, didn't want to say the truth just yet.

"So, the scallop and shrimp scampi looks good," Sherlock suggested boredly, apparently not finding any interest in the conversation about Johns erratic heart rate. John nodded and read the description about the dish, it would've sounded good if not for the fear coursing through his veins, the thought of eating anything in this state sent the taste of bile to his throat, so he just nodded in agreement with Sherlock instead.

*****

"John, you hardly said a word tonight," Sherlock announced. It was true, he had been unusually quiet this evening, but he was too busy running through every possible scenario in his head, what would be the worst? The best? What did he wish for? So yes, John hardly said a word tonight and silent prayers floated around his head, begging for the courage to speak up.

"What's going on?" Sherlock persisted and John shrugged, stuffing his hands into the front pockets of his khakis, for a moment he listened to the tapping of his feet in unison with Sherlocks on the cobblestone path, watched the moon, noticing how it lit up the midnight sky, smelled the Earth, flowers were just beginning to bloom, felt the chill air against his face and flowing through his lungs as he breathed it in, for a moment he let himself be content, doing the five senses thing that would calm his everlasting nerves.

"There's something I've wanted to say for a while now," he began, taking a deep breath, it was too late to turn back now. Sherlock looked at him through the corner of his eye.

"Mhmm?" John chewed the inside of his cheek and thought about how he would say it.

"Sherlock," John sucked in a breath, "I like you," out with it was the best way, better than beating around the bush, John stopped walking and waiting for Sherlock to stop and look at him.

"I like you too, that's why we're friends, right?" God, he was so oblivious, John could hardly fathom how the world's greatest detective couldn't solve the most obvious case, how could he not notice just how in love John was?

"No, I mean I really like you," this, Sherlock seemed to understand. John's eyes followed Sherlocks every emotion, Sherlock furrowed his brows and his eyes shook, he licked his lips. John knew what he was thinking, perhaps for the first time since he's met the man, 'why would someone like me?'

"But you're straight," he said finally, John softly smiled and looked at the paved ground.

"Bi," he said quietly, "and you're married to your work," John met his eyes, Sherlock pocketed his hands.

"Not since I met you,"

"Does this mean you feel the same way?" John said, trying not to let his voice sound as hopeful as he really felt.

"I thought that was plainly obvious," John laughed with relief and looked into Sherlock's eyes deeply, he could feel the tension building up, so he took a step back and Sherlock followed him until John's spine met the cold stone of a random building in the dim alleyway.

He watched Sherlock leisurely get in front of him and put his warm body against John's, reaching his hand up and resting it on the shorter man's jaw, he bent his neck and finally connected their lips.

Sherlock's lips were soft, as John always imagined they would feel, they were full and moved with his own as a practised dance, Johns hands, which were hanging limp at his side, finally made their way around Sherlock's shoulders and pulled him even closer.

Sherlock pulled away and Johns's eyes stayed shut for a few moments, his mouth hanging open and his breathing quicker than normal, when he opened his eyes he saw Sherlocks and smiled at the face in front of him which he had just finally kissed, all of his fantasies about kissing Sherlock had come to life and John could hardly breathe. 

*****

Once again I am so sorry about not posting in so long, this chapter was actually going to be part of a different thing but then I decided I just wanted to post something so I went with it.