Come back to me (Sherlock Holmess/John Watson MD)

John had stopped being surprised by Sherlock's deduction long ago. "I didn't let her, I can't help the fact she likes me, and to them I am single and willing," he said simply, and frowned at him. "You think I would keep things from you Sherlock? You don't trust me?" he asked, not sure what they were doing here.

"You had me more than once already, I think you proved it earlier that I can't resist you... what else do you want?" he asked, his heart beating fast in his throat.

"No, I just want you to know there's no point in keeping things from me." he replied with a small grin stretched on his lips.

Soon after Sherlock sighed. "I don't want anything else John. I just want you." He whispered, pushing his chin down as his eyes fluttered up to John's.

"I never keep things from you, it's more the other way around," he protested, grimacing when he remembered what he had just said. "I was just trying... to protect myself there... and... and I was sure you could tell I was in love with you by the way I was acting..."

He let his eyes meet Sherlock's pair, they were grey and warm, calling him near.
"I am yours, I've always been yours, I will always be yours," he muttered, sincere, bowing his head slightly.

"You were acting rather the opposite of someone who is in love, John." Sherlock pointed out again. There was no use in keeping this up like this. They both had feelings for each other and they both were being a fool.

Sherlock's hand moved up, stroking over John's cheek and lifting it back up to look at him. "And I'm yours." He whispered, keeping his eyes on John's and witnessing how they dilated.

"I have never loved anyone the way I love you, I had no idea how to act, I was desperate I would lose you if I let it show," he whispered, leaning towards the touch of his hand.

He felt like his eyes were stinging when Sherlock returned his words, and he moved closer, taking in the other's scent.
"God, Sherlock... I am sorry I was so stupid... I did not mean to hurt you..."

Sherlock felt his cheek flushing red when John told him he had never loved anyone as much as he loved him. He could easily say the same, in fact, he had never loved anyone but John. He smiled at the words, his body language had already given away how flattered he was.

"Don't be sorry." He whispered, slowly brushing his fingers along John's cheek. "It's alright now." Sherlock tried to sound reassuring, even though this wasn't his area at all.

John couldn't help but move closer, wrapping his arms around the other's shoulders and burying his face in his neck, squeezing him, scared it might all be a dream. He needed his scent and he needed his warmth.

"I spent the last few weeks pining for you, Sherlock... this doesn't feel real at all... I am scared I will wake up and this won't have happened at all," he admitted, hands clenching the other's shirt in his fists.

Sherlock embraced John back, his arms stroking over the whole surface of his back. "Shhh." he tried to soothe John, pressing their bodies close together.

"You're intoxicated right now, your mind is just showing things different." He tried to sound reassuring. "And when you wake up tomorrow, I'll be right there beside you." Sherlock whispered, nuzzling his own head against John's.

John's head seemed to swim in liquid happiness, Sherlock's voice, so low and soft was like a dream, and he clung to it. "Will you?" he whispered, asking for confirmation, he wanted the detective to be his, completely his.

"Will you sleep in my bed?" he added, his eyes slightly closed as he nuzzled Sherlock's head back, enjoying the contact.

Sherlock nodded in reply. "Yes. I will." He whispered back. He would love to spend the night with John. And not just this night, every night from here on. He wanted to wake up staring into those beautiful eyes every morning.

"Come on." He muttered, helping John up and keeping his balance. Sherlock placed a quick kiss along his cheek before moving them both to John's bedroom.

John couldn't help but smile, leaning towards Sherlock and hoping to melt against his side.
"Good. Perfect," he whispered, and deep down he was hoping this was the first night of a never-ending series.

"I love you, Sherlock," he whispered as they walked towards his room.
He finally knew this was right. What he felt. What they had.
This was it.