Correspondence.

Sherlock groaned at John's words, he wasn't quite sure how they managed to get in this position, why was John trying to reassure him now? Why was he comforting him when a second ago he was yelling at him?

He closed his eyes for a second, taking in a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeeling of John's hand on his shoulder, but it didn't go very well, his mind betraying him with the possibilities, with what that hand could do to him.
He wondered, for a long moment, what it would be like to be with John, to kiss, to have sex, would he like it? Or would he shy away from those things like he had always done?

He looked up, John's advice hardly registering. "You... are helping me with this, I... I have done better since you came around," he commented, somehow hopeful, the rest of the words hitting him to silence again.

Of course John wasn't going to run away with someone else, those mails were for him, there was no other explanation, apparently the doctor had no idea he knew? Did he really think he couldn't deduce it?
"Everyone goes away at the end, John, you've been dying to leave this place since you arrived, dating so many girls," he muttered, not being able to help the bitter tone in his words.

"I cannot calm down, I am completely out of my depth now, and I do not like it," except he did, he loved the touch on his shoulder, he loved the fact he could take in John's scent from this distance, but his body was scared, his mind was scared while his senses were soaking up all they could of John.

"John, I need to know what you are going to do, are you doing to try to kiss me? Is that what people do after a confession? I have no idea, I am sure I've seen it before in films, but I never paid attention..." he blurted out, still shaking.

Sherlock's behaviour was becoming more strange as seconds passed by, and that was the least John could say about that. He could tell Sherlock was uncomfortable with the situation and suddenly John remembered he still had his hand on his flatmate's shoulder. He felt his cheeks flush red and quickly retreated it, hoping it would at least calm Sherlock down a bit.

John was relieved to hear he had brought Sherlock some common sense, so he smiled in response, feeling himself blush a bit since this felt as a compliment coming from those lips. Those lips, the lips he wanted to feel on his, the lips he always wondered about. What would they taste like, what would shoulder taste like... Oh, he couldn't think about this now!

"I didn't date those woman because I wanted to get away from Baker Street." John exclaimed. "I dated those because I needed company." Lies, he knew it. And Sherlock seems to know it. "And because I.. I needed to make sure whether I.. I really am into guys or not. There's a reason non of those dates ever worked, you see." He babbled on.

But then Sherlock's words struck him, he listened but it all finally fell together as one piece inside his mind. "Oh my god." He blurred out, absently staring in front of him. As if someone had spelled it all out on a invisible black board. "You know." He said, his heart beating painfully fast.

John was aware his cheeks had turned a deeper shade of red by now. He had no idea what to do or say and once again he felt like running. "I..Sherlock I didn't meant to..I mean I did but not like this." He wasn't even sure what he was on about. But then his eyes gazed at Sherlock and his instincts told him to get closer, so he did. "I.. I would like to kiss you." He confessed. "God, I've been dying to kiss you but.. You.. What do you feel? Are you.. gay?" He needed to know before he could attempt anything.

"Of course I know, I am not stupid John," he muttered, shaking his head. "You practically spelled it out for me, I am surprised it took me so long to figure it out really, but again, I really didn't think there was any possibility of something like this happening. You understand, I hope, I was never popular with girls and boys alike, everyone hates me," he muttered with his well practiced coldness, it didn't come out very convincing considering he was still shaking with nerves.

When John stepped closer, he stepped back instinctively, years of defensive walls could not be brought down so easily. The words almost made him faint right there though, John's voice, John's sweet hypnotic voice saying that he was dying to kiss him...

"I don't know," he admitted, because he couldn't say really, "I haven't been attracted to many people in my life... like... only one actually," he muttered, the one in front of me now, he wanted to add, but he couldn't.

"I have never kissed anyone, John," he confessed, his cheeks burning as red as his friend's. "I heard it's a pleasurable experience, is that so?" he asked curiously, trying hard to sound calmer than he was.

John could just punch Sherlock in his face right there. How could he be so heartless and cold at this time? He had John's heart in his hands and John felt as if he just kicked it around the room. Why didn't he just tell John how he felt? Why didn't he just, for once, pretended to be human?

The painful grimace on John's face wasn't exactly one he could hide away. And he knew Sherlock had probably already picked up on it. "I see, not popular. Well I figured so." He shrugged a little. No wonder everyone hated him, John thought. Even though, he didn't. And he knew others cared about Sherlock as well, so he wiped the thought away.

Just one... The woman.. That Adler woman. John was sure Sherlock was attracted to her. He had seen his behaviour, it wasn't normal. He sighed, his hoped shattered around in pieces on the floor. "O-okay." John smiled weak.

"I guess it's pleasurable. Everyone likes it differently, so you'll just have to find that out." John replied very calm, even though on the inside he was screaming. And suddenly he remembered he had dinner on the cooker. "Damn it!" he exclaimed as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Sherlock realized too late he had done it again, he had hurt John by being insensitive, but for the love of God, he had no idea which part of his words had done it. He thought being honest was the way to go, but he felt incredibly stupid as John stood there and looked at him as if he had just killed someone.

"I-" what could he do? Apologize? For what? He was not sure, but his heart was desperately reaching out for John, he wanted to stop him, to touch him, but his mind was screaming at him to take advantage of this and run away.

He didn't though, his feet staying still as John said he would find out about kissing.
His lips curling in a nervous smile, he wanted to say he was rather curious now, even though scared, but John was suddenly walking away and he found himself standing there, shocked and wondering whether he had got it all wrong.

"What-? Jooohn?" he exclaimed, stepping towards the kitchen. "That doesn't work out if we aren't in the same room," he pointed out obviously.

John rushed into the kitchen, at first not realising his flatmate had followed him there. The chicken had burned and there was no point in cooking rice any more. Nervously John settles the pan inside the dishwasher, but he dropped as soon as he heard Sherlock cry out his name like that.

"What, Sherlock?" John exclaimed. "What doesn't work out?" He could tell Sherlock was confused, there was this certain blinking he did. And his posture didn't held up as prideful. John for a moment felt proud he had deduced something, even though it was more then obvious if you only knew Sherlock a little. "No. Wait. I know what doesn't work out." He blurred out. "Us." And his words sounded so final.

"I can't have this, Sherlock. You have my read my heart, you know how I feel. How mad I am going for you but you..." John huffed for a moment, only now realising he was pointing at Sherlock. "You still won't open up." He eventually said, lowering his hand just to rub the bridge of his nose. "I can't see through that thick wall of yours, you know." And suddenly it seemed as if he had lost all previously gathered calmness again. "I need you to open up about your feelings towards me."

Sherlock frowned at John's hurtful words, he had thought things were going better, but now his flatmate was saying they didn't work out and he felt that it was quite unfair.
"We haven't tried anything yet, how can you say we don't work out?" he protested, shaking his head, why was John angry again? Why was he hurting him?

His eyes narrowed on him as he was told him what the problem was and he couldn't help but feel anger mixing in his chest, making him groan: "I've just told you I have only ever been attracted to you in my life and I just told you I am open to the experience of kissing, how is that not opening up? Jesus, John, and you say I am the insensitive one!" he snapped, his heart clenching in his chest.

"You know what, forget it, I was not meant for relationships, that's it," he blurted out, turning around to walk back to the living room. He couldn't do this, he couldn't possibly let John close, he knew he would just get hurt in the end, just like he was getting hurt now, torn between wanting John and being scared of him.

"I know we haven't tried yet, but something is telling me." John exclaimed. How did he know? He had got the slightest idea, perhaps he was just beig insecure. Some things you just knew, even if they havent yet. But Sherlock was playing with his mind, giving him hope then take it away again.

"attracted to me?!" he said surprised. "I though you-. Nevermind." he muttered. John swore Sherlock had been talking about Irene Adler when he had said so. He had never witnessed Sherlock behaving so strangly before she had came around. He inhaled deep, feeling his breath shaking as he did.

Seeing Sherlock leave the room like that was making his chest ache. John needed to calm himself down, he needed to sort his thoughts out and think about this properly before he would jump on this one. It seemed so much easier when he was writing those emails, but this obviously was the reason why he had never sent them.

"I'm going to get take away." it was a lame excuse to disappear out of the house for a moment, to get some fresh air and most of all to think without getting distracted by Sherlock. "want anything?" but John knew the answer. Sherlock didn't eat while thinking. He only ate when John insisted in between the cases or when John basically forced him on the long term cases. But it didn't matter much now, John always brought a bit for Sherlock, just in case.

And so he fetched his jacket again, pierced Sherlock's back with his eyes before he left and headed downstairs. The cold evening air already doing what John had hoped it would, cooling his overheated mind down.

Sherlock didn't reply, he knew John wasn't really waiting for his answer and it hurt him even more. His hands clenched into fists and he moved towards the window, standing there like an ominous shadow, looking over the street and at John walking away from him.

They didn't work out, clearly.
They weren't meant to be.
Then what was the pain in his chest that wouldn't go away?
Rationality wasn't helping when he was looking at the only person he liked running away from him.

He had never thought it was possible, for someone to love him, and most of all he had never thought his feelings for John could be returned, but even now that he knew John's emails had been directed at him, there was still nothing that he could do.

What did he have to offer any way?
He didn't even know how to kiss!

And John clearly didn't want to deal with him.

How ironic.
He had always thought they were connected, that they were made for each other, but really, they seemed to only be able to butt heads.

As he picked up his violin and started playing, he wondered if he had just ruined his best shot at companionship.
He was going to spend the rest of his life alone, he thought as he killed the sad melody he was playing.

John dashed out of baker street, turning left while take away clearly was located somewhere to his right. He didn't care about food now though, all he wanted was to clear his mind. To sort out his thoughts and feelings and calm down before he would return to his flat.

In a quick pace he took a few turns and decided to go for a walk through Regent's park. It wasn't very busy out there, since it slightly had began to rain and it was getting late. But John considered that as a good thing. He didn't need people staring at him now. He needed to be alone.

And so he roamed through the park, his mind on full speed. He replayed every bit of what had happened earlier this evening. From the part where Sherlock had read his emails, assumed the wrong things and than figured out John had written those for him and no one else.

"Oh God." He muttered suddenly, realising Sherlock was nothing more than just a walking piece of jealousy when he had returned home. The way he observed John, the way he snapped at him for keeping information. John swallowed hard, he had misinterpreted this whole situation from the beginning on.

Sherlock had admitted he had been attracted to John, but John had thought he meant Irene Adler. He sighed, now realizing he had panicked. His scared and insecure self hadn't been ready for the surprise of Sherlock knowing John's feelings. Had he overreacted? Perhaps. But Sherlock's insensitive way of living hadn't been helping the situation either.

Perhaps he should just go back home, walk in and fully kiss Sherlock as an apology. But would he still want to kiss? God damn, he could have tasted those lips but pulled himself out of it. It was all he'd ever wanted and he might have blown his chance for good.

After at least more than an hour of pointlessly walking, John decided his state of mind was calm enough to return. But not without getting food first. And so he went to grab them both a good portion of fish and chips before he returned to his flat.

He could feel nerves turning his stomach up and down as he opened the lock. The first thing he heard was the sad tones of Sherlock's violin. Not good, John concluded.

What was he supposed to say? Or do? Would Sherlock still want to talk to him after all of this? John entered the living room. "I'm home. Got dinner, there was a queue." He muttered, but knew Sherlock wouldn't believe the lame queue excuse of being out so long.

John disappeared into the kitchen, got out 2 plates and put them on the familiar table. It felt awkward, he could taste the atmosphere in their apartment. And it tasted bitter. Not good? Well... A bit not good.

Sherlock dished out a particularly bad note when he heard John coming in, he had stopped waiting really, almost sure the doctor was not going to come home any more. His insecurities and fear had mixed bitterly in his chest and at some point he even felt like he could cry.

John was here now though, but he couldn't reply, he didn't care about dinner and he wanted to ignore the happiness he felt knowing he was back. He felt a lot like a pet, which was rather ridiculous.
The excuse made him snort, he knew very well there was no such thing as a queue, but it still seemed he was unable to speak.

He stopped playing, feeling stupid standing in the living room like that, especially since there was no way he'd be able to eat anything.
He considered his options, and he realized the only way to avoid more heartache, the only way to avoid embarrassing himself was to go to his room and call it a night.

He nodded to himself then, straightening his jacket a bit and clearing his throat.
"Not hungry," he muttered, and slowly started to move towards his room, feeling a lot like he was supposed to say something else. He had no idea what though.

As he silence fell John swore he could hear his own heart beating. It was awkward and painful and one of them needed to do something to break this. But what could he say? What could he do? Should he apologize? Should he explain Sherlock what he'd been feeling, how he felt now? And if he did would the consulting detective even understand?

John's lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. And then Sherlock moved away from the window. For a moment John thought he'd come and join their dinner, but he laughed at himself for his wishful thinking.

Of course Sherlock wasn't hungry, what did he even expect? They had a nice chat while Sherlock read the paper and John went on about some bloke he didn't like at work? He snorted at his own thoughts and muttered a "that's alright." at Sherlock's rejection towards the food.

His heart clenched inside his chest when he saw Sherlock fleeting towards his bedroom. Something inside his head triggered and before he knew he was in the living room himself; speaking loud and clear. "Sherlock, wait!"

The tension was thick and it became even worse when John called him, when he told him to wait. Sherlock froze, his body hardening and his thoughts reeling, what did John want now? Was he going to tell him again that they couldn't be together?

"You don't have to apologies," he started, seeing John's stance looked rather apologetic, he was unwilling to let his nerves take over again. "We don't work out, I understand, I have never worked out for anyone after all... and there had to be a reason why you didn't send those mails after all," he added sadly, looking at his feet.

"I am sorry I mocked you," he continued, utterly crushed, he just wanted to go and hide in his room, curl on the bed and forget this had ever happened.

John swallowed hard when he saw Sherlock's body stopping its motion. His hands nervously turned into fists and he tried to straighten his shoulders. He tried to look confident, but putting up a facade in front of the most observant man in the whole universe wasn't exactly easy.

His lips parted, he wanted to say something but Sherlock went on. John didn't want to apologize. Or perhaps he had wanted to, but he wasn't going to anymore. His heart shattered hearing that low voice rejecting his attempts before he had even tried anything.

"I didn't sent those mails because.." John inhaled deep, trying shuffle a bit closer. "Because I was scared. I was scared you weren't.. you know.. gay.. or interested.." He muttered, feeling his cheeks glow.

"And I panicked earlier. I expected rejection since it's all I've ever known." John took a big step towards Sherlock, his hand reaching out but he pulled back. He didn't dare touching him just yet, but he wanted to.

"But I know different now, Sherlock." He whispered.

Sometimes he really hated John. And what he really hated was the fact that he would do things that Sherlock didn't expect. That part of him though was also the part that Sherlock liked most of all.
It didn't matter how readable John's face was, his feelings had such a strength that Sherlock could not comprehend, he always ended up being amazed by it.

So once again, when Sherlock was sure he had been rejected, John stepped up to declare his interest once again, reducing Sherlock to a shaking blushing teenager.

"I.. mm... what?" he stammered, swallowing hard when he realized John was closer than before.
He knew different now, what did that mean?
"What are you going to do?" he asked, because that was the most pressing matter at the moment.

For a long moment John's eyes restlessly scanned over Sherlock's face. His breath had clearly increased and he could feel the tension rise when Sherlock spoke.

God, John hated this situation. He was still scared, still so insecure.
But if he never tried, he'd never know.
John swallowed thickly, it was a risk, but one he was willing to take.

"I'm going to do what I should have done earlier this evening." John muttered, his hand moving up quickly to captivate Sherlock's cheek. And then he closed his eyes and pulled both their faces together, his own lips gently touching Sherlock's in a sweet, soft kiss.

Sherlock's eyes were wide as they noticed the determination in John's eyes, it was always a wonder to see the nerves of steel the man was able to pull out during the times Sherlock just wanted to curl up and disappear.
He started slightly when he felt John's hands on his cheeks, they felt a bit rough, but God, so bloody warm.

He felt the urge to pull away, he felt the urge to tell him that there was no way in hell he could do this, that he would just end up disappointing him, but he was silent, and he was still, he was waiting for his first kiss to happen and he realized he wanted it to happen. With John.

His eyes were wide open as their lips met.
They were soft, warm, and the gesture was quite adorable to begin with. He returned the pressure, very softly at first, and then a bit more determined.
His heart was beating fast in his chest and he couldn't help but smile.
"Not as shocking as I thought," he commented against his lips, thinking that maybe kissing wasn't as difficult as he thought.

At first the kiss felt awkward, John's lips just pressing against Sherlock's. He held his breath, hoping soon the pressure would be returned. Nerves turned his stomach upside down and anticipation made him shiver.

When he finally felt those lips pressing back, John sighed relieved. It still felt awkward, but oh so good at the same time. He was kissing Sherlock, the unreachable and ever so distant Sherlock. John wouldn't want to have things different, he forgot the argument for a moment and enjoyed being so close to the man he'd loved from the first time they met.

He couldn't help but laugh a little at Sherlock's comment. "I don't know what you expected from kissing but it's not supposed to be chocking, no." he looked up at Sherlock, shaking his head a little.

"close your eyes." he demanded softly. As soon as he saw Sherlock's eyes falling close, he pressed their lips together again. This time a bit more pressure, his hand slowly running down over Sherlock's cheek and resting on his neck.

Sherlock blushed a bit as John looked at him and replied to his comment. "I just thought it was more... complicated," he admitted, his hand moved a bit, fingers grabbing the hem of John's jumper, as if checking whether he was really there. He wasn't exactly sure this was really happening.

He didn't really questions John's order, he just did it, he closed his eyes and he let another kiss happen. This time he returned it quickly and gasped very softly when he felt John's hand on his cheek, it felt so warm., he just wanted to melt again it.

John could feel his cheek flush red as he felt Sherlock's hands on his jumper. His own fingertips gently stroked over the other's neck, caressing it very gently and tender. This kiss felt even better as the one before. He could do this forever, just standing there kissing the man he'd always dreamed of.

Hesitatingly John parted his lips, not really knowing how far he should take this now. Slowly he let his tongue come out, running it along Sherlock's lower lip, eyes opening just a little to check whether or not he was alright with this.

Sherlock's parted lips quivered as they felt John's tongue running over them. He could hardly believe himself as he realized he could now taste John, it was the closest he had ever been to anyone in his life.
So it wasn't all there, kissing was much more than what he had thought a few seconds ago.

It felt strange, a bit wet, but he was too curious to stop, he pushed himself closer, replicating what John had done, his tongue coming out and tracing his friend's lips slowly, and God it felt better than anything he had ever done before.

John couldn't stop a soft moan when he first tasted Sherlock.
It all felt like a dream, so unreal.
But one thing he was sure about, Sherlock tasted better then he'd ever imagined.
This was perfect and no one could ever take this away from him again.

Gently he let his tongue flick around Sherlock's, tasting him even more. He felt Sherlock response and from that point on everything just kept getting better.

John didn't knew how long he's stood there, just kissing Sherlock. But by now he had one hand lost in those curls while the other had dropped to Sherlock's chest, close to his heart.

Then he broke the kiss. Lips swollen from being busy that long. John's cheeks were burning red as he stared into Sherlock's light eyes. "So.. Eh.." He smiled a little. "Was this a pleasurable experience?" He asked, remembering what Sherlock had said to him before he'd walked out of the flat.

Sherlock thought they kissed for what felt like forever, but still it was not enough when John pulled away and talked. He had just started to catalogue all the different tastes that he could find in his mouth and were absolutely peculiar of John, and he was in no way ready to stop.
He pouted slightly, his head dizzy with the experience, and he realized that there was much more to a kiss than he had initially thought.

"Mm?" he exclaimed incoherent at first, and then smiled. "It was brilliant!" he finally replied, "I sincerely hope you weren't planning on stopping just yet, I was just getting the hang of it," and he made to lean closer when another thought crossed his mind.
"Unless it was an awful experience for you? Was I that bad? I can get better, I promise," he mumbled quickly, nervously.

John couldn't help but chuckle a little at Sherlock's words. It was more than adorable. And the detective didn't have anything to worry about. John had never felt this good about kissing, he'd never want to kiss someone more than he wanted to kiss Sherlock right now.

His head shook convincingly. "You were absolutely great." John confessed, letting his hand run down over Sherlock's side and cupping him at the hips. "But I'd like to find out whether or not you actually can do better." He grinned, slowly pushing Sherlock backwards until he gently hits the wall.

John pushes his own body against his flatmate's, eagerly placing a few kisses on his cheeks before finding those beautiful lips again, getting started at yet another passionate kiss.

"Of course I can do better, there's always room for improvement, and I am good at learning new things," he muttered, his voice trailing off as he was pushed back though. His breath got stuck in his throat as he hit the wall, their bodies pressing together and making him shake with chills of pleasure.
He had no idea it could feel like this, and Sherlock's eyes were suddenly filled with amazement.

He didn't have time to comment, to ask, John was kissing him again and he was returning the favour with enthusiasm, wanting to practice and get better, but mostly, he just wanted to be close to John, as close as possible.