Let's have dinner.

What? A condom? Why would he need one of those, he wondered. Oh. John thought that...that he and Irene were about to...Sherlock laughed aloud, the idea seemed so preposterous and ridiculous.

"No no, it's not that," he waved his hand dismissively, then grabbed John by the arm, dragging him into the living room. "It's something else but...I need your help..."

John's eyes widened as Sherlock pulled him towards the living room, his whole being sore with emotional fatigue. What the hell was happening?

He saw Irene, her blouse undone, the black lace bra in plain view and he couldn't help the anger pooling in his belly.
He slapped his arm away from Sherlock's grip and growled.
"What do you want from me?"

Sherlock frowned at John's irrational behaviour, a little upset.

"What's the matter?" He asked innocently, then turned to Irene for help, suddenly feeling somewhat embarrassed by what he had planned to say.

"Um...Miss Adler...maybe you could errr...maybe...tell John what we said?"

"What's the matter?" he seethed, his voice dripping with hurt. "You call on me just to show me how good you were getting over your fears and snogging your girlfriend, and I am supposed to be happy?" he snapped.

His muscles were all tense, he wanted to flee, he couldn't take this, and Sherlock's stammering words made him even more angry.

Irene smiled victoriously to John when he came in. But now, she closed her eyes and sighed. This was going to be a (maybe) hurtful of handling it, but direct was Sherlock and her's style. No emotional fuss to hide the actual truth.

"When we were... busy, suddenly, in the heat of the moment, Sherlock called your name out." She said very clearly. She raised one eyebrow to John. Dear John. What do you think of thát? she thought.

John wanted to tell her to shut up and wanted to flee, but the words pinned him there for a long moment. Was that the truth?
He looked at Sherlock for a moment, but he didn't seem to be wanting to say anything.

"What am I to make of it?" He asked, confused, he had no idea what to make of Sherlock's strange mind. "He is the one who should give an explanation..." He muttered and his eyes were bearing into the detective's frame.

"But I would think maybe he wasn't that taken by what you two were doing... I do not care about the details... Even though I would have prefered not to know you two had sex on my sofa," he mumbled with a grimace.

Sherlock suddenly felt very embarrassed. His stomach twisted up in knots and he found himself unable to look John in the eye. He played around nervously with the edge of his shirt. He should never have suggested doing this. Now John was expecting him to speak. This wasn't the plan. He glanced at Irene with pleading eyes.

"Please John...I...I don't know...." he stammered.

He began to feel the frustration and confusion building up in his mind. He felt like screaming or punching something or...anything.

"No no," Sherlock replied defensively, "We didn't have....sex. Of course we didn't! I...I...couldn't. It didn't feel...right."

"You don't know?" he repeated surprised, his frustration still clear on his face. "They are your bloody thoughts, can't you account for them?" he snapped, and moved closer to Sherlock. "You, the one who never forgets anything, can't you say what it was exactly that you were thinking about in that moment?"

His heart skipped a beat when he took in the rest of Sherlock's words. "It didn't feel right?" he repeated, once again making sure he had heard correctly. "Sherlock... even though you hesitated because of inexperience and all... I thought- I thought you liked Irene?"

Sherlock stared at the floor as his flatmate shouted at him, feeling like a small child getting told off. He really didn't know what to say, couldn't think of a suitable response or witty comeback. He was at a loss. He just shrugged silently, then finally managed to look up at John to answer his questions, casting a quick fleeting glance towards Irene.

"No..." he muttered. "I don't 'like' her. You know I...I don't see people in that way...I don't 'fancy' people...but...but..." Sherlock paused to take a breath, his speech suddenly clamming up. He closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply, holding it for a brief second before letting out all his words in one go:

"Due to the rather suggestive fact that I called out your name inadvertently whilst engaged in a mildly sexual encounter and because I told her you were my only friend and the only person I trusted and the only person who mattered and that I cared for you and thought you were quite frankly rather fantastic although please don't ask me to repeat that and due to the fact that I found it quite impossible to take my liason with Miss Adler any further than mere kissing she seemed to infere that I loved you. Opinion?"

I don't fancy people...

John knew about that, he had always known, but it still hurt to hear it now when his hopes had been flaring up.

The wave of words made him think though, Sherlock was clearly distressed by the whole thing and even though his anger, John didn't want to make it worse.
"Of course you love me, Sherlock, I am your best friend and by far the only person who puts up with you," he said simply, shrugging a bit.

"That doesn't mean you love me... that way... you said it yourself, you don't fancy people, you loving me as a friend doesn't imply that you find me attractive or that you would like to fuck me..." he muttered and looked outside the window.

"My opinion is that you two are putting too much importance on a little incident and misunderstanding..."

"Well, it wasn't really thát misunderstood." Irene was going to help now. "Sherlock said, as I recall correctly..." and she looked at Sherlock to give him a chance to interrupt or correct her if her statement was not complete. "He said that he was thinking about you all the time."

"I disagree with you" She shifted on the sofa to look at John. "I think this incident is of much importance, because the rare situation Sherlock was in and the events that occurred during the encounter that we had. It's a gateway for more investigation, don't you think Sherlock? See it as an experiment." She said this to make the information clear to Sherlock's scientific mind. "The hypothesis is not proven to be true, unless the experiment is not performed multiple times. " God. She really sounded like Sherlock now.

John wondered why Irene was so set on this. He was scared, scared things would get out of hand and he'd end up being more hurt than he already was.
"What are you suggesting?" he hissed, his eyes moving on her nervously, tearing themselves away when he realized she was still rather half naked.

"What kind of experiment are you talking about? I have no intention of standing here while you two snog!" he protested, his voice shaking once again, he looked at Sherlock, wondering if the detective had understood.

Sherlock began to nod slowly, then quicker and he leapt up in the air excited as the idea took shape in his mind.

"Of course of course, how could I be so slow," he exclaimed. "Miss Adler is quite right. We need to remove sentiment from the equation and conduct the matter scientifically. It's the only way to know for certain."

Sherlock raced over to Irene and grabbed her, hauling her up out of the armchair and dragging her over to stand in front of John.

"Miss Adler, take my pulse," he demanded and held out his arm. "John. Kiss me."

Irene was glad that Sherlock understood. At Sherlock admitting her approach was right, she rose her eyebrows at John and gave him a smug smile.

Irene took her position and grabbed Sherlock's wrist in her hands. She placed her fingers on his veins and looked at Sherlock for a starting sign.

John looked at the two of them with wide eyes. "What?" he exclaimed, his heart beating so fast in his chest he knew he couldn't take this.
It was cruel.
It was unfair.
How could they ask him of that?

He looked at Sherlock, waiting expectantly in front of him and he realized that this could be the only chance he'd ever have to kiss him.
Just once.

So he did it.

He leaned up and captured his lips, he buried his hand in his hair and pulled him close almost roughly.
His tongue slid in between the other's lips and he tasted him.

It was then that he realized it was too much.
He pulled back, panting, upset, and shook his head, starting to move back towards his room.
Bad idea, bad bad idea.
Now he knew what he couldn't have.

Sherlock fully intended to keep his eyes open when John kissed him. He wanted Irene to be able to study the details on his face, check for pupil dilation and such like. It had to be strictly scientific otherwise it wouldn't work. But as John's lips touched his, he felt his eyelids fluttering to a close.

Although it lasted only the briefest of seconds it was...it was...explosive, magical, electrifying. Sherlock could hear his heart pounding in his ears like a stampede of bulls running towards a red rag. As John pulled away, Sherlock's free hand automatically reached out, grabbed John by the collar of his jumper and pulled him quite forcefully backwards. Too soon. It had ended too soon and he wanted more.

He pushed his lips back onto John's and forced his tongue into the doctor's mouth, just like he had done to him. My God...he tasted quite wonderful. Sherlock held the kiss for roughly the same amount of time that John had, then broke away, breathless and giddy. He couldn't take his eyes off John but spoke to Irene:

"Miss Adler...what was...what..." he panted, barely able to string a sentence together. "What was the result of the experiment?"

John gasped as he was pulled back, something Sherlock used against him, sneakily slipping his tongue in his mouth again.
He closed his eyes, debating whether he should allow this at all, but it ended so quickly he didn't have to do anything.

He was left there, panting, with the other's taste on his lips, and eyes heavy lidded as they looked at Sherlock. The detective seemed to be just as affected and it shocked him to an extent.
"Anyone would get... would get a fast heart beat from a kiss... it doesn't mean anything..." he muttered, and frowned slightly. "If you were in love with me, Sherlock, you would know... because it's the kind of feeling one cannot miss... it changes your life even if you don't want to..."

Irene grinned brightly. She was their number one fangirl, no doubt. She measured Sherlock's heart rate and pupil dilation.

"Heart rate increased with one third of your normal rate and pupils..." She came closer to Sherlock's face to register it clearly. "dilated." She turned to John and pierced into his eyes. "Both of you."

Sherlock nodded at Irene's prognosis. He had already guessed that would be the case. He could still feel his heart rampaging wildly like nothing he'd ever experienced. He turned to Irene with a small smile, finally managing to tear his eyes away from John.

"Thank you Miss Adler," he said quietly and still rather breathless. "Except...John seems to think the results weren't conclusive. I don't know what to suggest. Actually...I owe you an apology Miss Adler. Because....because it didn't feel that way when I...when we kissed and....and I'm not sure I could go back to kissing you now...not after...well...." His eyes fell to the floor with some embarrassment.

"And when you pulled John in again, your heart rate increased even more rapidly, in case you are interested." Irene added.

"And why not?" Irene felt smug after Sherlock's expression of gratefulness, but did not see why they couldn't kiss again. "I don't see the reason. If we should repeat the experiments, we should all be back to our basic heartrate level, so we have to wait eitherway..."

John didn't know what to think, his whole body was shaking as the other two spoke, Sherlock seemed to be admitting he had feelings for John which seemed rather unreal to begin with.
"I don't know what to think..."

His hand reached out to touch Sherlock's arm, fingers brushing along his pulse, but they were tender, just tracing the skin.
"Sherlock..." He whispered, even though he wasn't sure what he was asking for.

Sherlock's mind was in turmoil, utterly confused by the way his body had responded to kissing John and comparing how different it had felt to kissing Irene. It was not just pleasant it was...it was positively wonderful. And he didn't want it to stop.

And yet, the logical part of his mind was telling him this wasn't right. John was his flatmate. His friend. He couldn't be in love with John. It was ridiculous. It didn't make any sense. He looked up as John whispered his name, and all he could think about was kissing him again.

"John...I..." he mumbled nervously. "I don't know what to think either..." He grabbed John's hand and squeezed it. He needed to feel something solid, something real.

John took courage from Sherlock squeezing his hand. It felt nice. It felt reassuring. It felt natural. It was like things were slowly falling into place and he couldn't help but bare his heart.

"I don't want you to kiss anyone else..." he confessed, his thumb moving on the other's palm.

Sherlock stared into John's sparkling blue eyes. There was something quite mesmerising about them, and he had to force himself to look away. He was still struggling to attach some kind of explanation or meaning to his physical reactions when it registered that John was saying he didn't want him to kiss anyone else.

"I don't want to kiss anyone else," Sherlock quickly replied. A bit too quickly. But the idea of kissing anyone else now seemed utterly stupid. It would be like choosing to investigate a robbery when you'd been offered a murder. One was simply just...better...than the other.

He glanced at Irene apologetically. "It's...uh...nothing personal."

"Oh, I understand" Irene winked at Sherlock and smiled.

"Achievement accomplished. My boys happy..." She buttoned up her blouse and stepped into her shoes. "It's time for me to go, I suppose. My job is done here."