Chapter Text
When thinking back on the many fiends and murderers he's faced in his life, Sherlock Holmes has had very few intellectual equals. But when he truly thinks back on it, even fewer were genuinely able to surprise him.
Though it would take a lot of alcohol to admit it, the most caught off guard he’s ever been, was when he entered a room to find Irene Adler stark naked. So when he found himself in 221B, drinking by himself, he nearly laughed aloud at the memory. But another aspect of the memory became much more interesting to him. John's reaction.
He never thought it over before, but now that his mind was focused on it, it was actually quite a strange reaction for a healthy heterosexual man.
John didn't show an ounce of physical attraction. No smile, which would have been a bit inappropriate at the time. No sweaty palms, no signs of nervousness, no fidgeting, he didn't lick his lips or look at Adler's, no blush, no quickened breath, no subconscious attempt to fix his appearance, he didn't deepen his voice, or puff out his chest. In fact, thinking back on it, he remembered John's pupils didn't even dilate.
His only reactions were that of shock. That was all. Pure shock. No flicker of interest, no spark of lust, just surprise.
John should have had a greater reaction to seeing a nude woman.
It was quite strange.
He found himself spiraling into a rabbit hole of possibilities.
Sherlock knew for a fact that John’s had sex with multiple women. He also knew that no amount of fidelity can prevent someone from finding another person to be attractive. He briefly considered that John may have sight issues, but quickly dismissed that as well. There was no logical explanation to his question.
That’s when it finally dawned on him.
John didn’t react because somehow, he didn’t find Alder to be physically attractive. At all.
Though females weren’t exactly Sherlock’s area, he understood that Adler was average for a woman her age. But what she physically lacked, she made up for in personality and brains. That’s why her clients confused her for Aphrodite.
In their brief interaction, John only saw what was on the outside. Therefore, the shock, and John’s own moral compass, could have outweighed Adler’s beauty.
But still, it wasn’t as if he was only there for a second. He stood there, stunned, before leaving. He should have had time to register that he was physically attracted to Adler. But he wasn’t attracted to her. He wasn’t at all.
Sherlock huffed and checked the time, seeing John should be home any minute. He planned to question his friend the moment he walked in the door.
He recognized the footsteps that came upstairs and immediately stood up to greet John.
When he entered, John could tell Sherlock was tipsy. He cracked a smile as he hung up his coat. “Afternoon. When’d you become a day drunk?”
“Today. I have a serious question for you.”
John slowly nodded, unsure of where the conversation was about to go. “Yes?”
“Do you remember, uhm, Adler?”
“Irene Adler? Yea, hard to forget.” He could tell this was actually a series of questions that would then lead to a full conversation, so he took a seat across from Sherlock.
Sherlock sat back down and continued, still slightly drunk. “Well. When, that time when she was naked? Right? You saw her naked, and you were just, bloody shocked. But you didn’t think she was attractive. I could tell, not even a little bit, you weren’t physically attracted to her. But you date women, so how?”
John blinked a few times, grinning as he realized what Sherlock was asking him. “You want to know why I didn’t find Irene attractive?”
“Yes! Even if she was ugly as a frog, you’re a healthy heterosexual man, you should have had some reaction to a nude woman other than shock.”
John let out a laugh and he shook his head. “Sherlock, I’ve seen you deduce entire life stories, and you can’t figure this one out?”
“No! I’ve spent forty bloody minutes thinking about it!”
John laughed again. He quite enjoyed knowing something that Sherlock didn’t. “Start with the basics, Sherlock. What do you know about my sexuality?”
“You’re heterosexual! You’ve said that you don’t like men, and I know that you only date women.”
“Oh god. Neither of those are true.” He was certain that he’s never been so amused in his life.
Sherlock blinked a few times. “What?”
“I’ve only ever said that I’m not gay. And I’ve dated many different people who are all over the gender spectrum.”
“Impossible, I know the names of everyone you’ve dated.”
John raised an eyebrow. “Alex, Morgan, and Avery were all men. Taylor was gender-fluid and Angel didn’t want to be labeled as anything. In fact, I haven’t dated a woman in three years.” His voice changed. It lost it’s amusement and a trace of doubt took over. “Didn’t you notice my use of they/them pronouns? Me and Taylor dated for six months, certainly you would have heard. Or perhaps, the fact that I openly used the terms boyfriend or significant other. It isn’t like I only spoke about my girlfriends.” His lips moved once more but no words came out. He was genuinely dumbfounded a moment before he finally found words, but they sounded quite sad. “I know I didn’t talk about my relationships often, but .....” He sounded hurt, “did you not ever listen?”
Sherlock was in a state of shock. He didn’t know what to do or say for a moment. He felt himself quickly sobering up.
“Before ..... the fall ..... I was a very cold man. I didn’t listen to a lot of the things you said because I thought you’d eventually tire of me and leave. Afterwards I did listen more. But, my brain had a tendency to gloss over uninteresting things like pronouns or what term you used to describe your significant other. But I did listen. I remember Angel played the flute, Avery was from Greece, and you had an uncanny amount of sex with Morgan. Of course, you didn’t tell me that last bit, I deduced it.”
John felt a bit better after that. He went on to explain himself. “Sherlock, I’m pansexual. I think. Honestly, I’m not quite sure what I am. I think it’s okay that I don’t quite know. All I really know is that I’m attracted to everyone, but I’m mostly attracted to men, if that makes sense. During the time of Irene Adler, I was having a moment where I was really only interested in men. I don’t know why it happens, but sometimes it will. In fact, that’s when I was dating Morgan. So I didn’t find her attractive because, at the time, I wasn’t interested in women.”
Sherlock blinked a few times and leaned back in his seat. For some reason, he found himself happy that John was interested in men, but he didn’t know why.
He looked up to say something else, when he caught the sight of John’s tongue peaking out to moisten his lips. He also noticed dilated pupils.
He held back any signs of his surprise and felt as if he’d been slapped in the face. “You aren’t currently dating anyone, yes? From what I recall, Avery was your last relationship, ended four months ago.”
John nodded and his eyes briefly flickered to Sherlock’s lips as he spoke. “I’m completely single.”
Sherlock nodded. “Good. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything else. I’m going into my head a while. Need to reorganize.” He seemed slightly distracted as he spoke, as if he was already leaving the world around him.
John watched him go before taking a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he’d just come out to his own best friend, when he didn’t even realize he wasn’t in the closet. He stood up and went to make himself some tea.
Sherlock, meanwhile, was reviewing their interactions for the past few weeks. He typically didn’t pay much attention to John’s body language unless he was gauging his emotions or reactions. But now, he wished he’d been more curious. He wished he’d paid more attention. Because John has been showing subtle signs of attraction, but for some reason they were directed at Sherlock.
Sherlock was a very logical and reasonable man. He was very aware that he wasn’t conventionally attractive, but he knew how to use charisma to charm people in cases where it would be beneficial. He also knew that John is conventionally attractive. Attractive enough that his age was no problem, though he was only in his early forties. Deep blue eyes, one laugh line deeper than the other from the crooked way he sniffles, small lips dusted over with a color exactly like a pink rose, the way they slowly turned red as he spoke or when he licked his lips, his charming smile, nice but not overbearing jawline, soft features that suited him perfectly, in fact, everything seemed to fit perfectly on his face so that nothing was too big or too small. He was so adorable that neither his age nor his height deterred people from hitting on him.
Sherlock shocked himself so hard that he nearly broke his concentration in his mind palace. Did he genuinely think John to be adorable?
Given that John is conventionally attractive, has a pleasing visage, a lovely voice, and he dressed nice, it shouldn’t be a surprise that he accidentally thought John was adorable. But that’s when Sherlock became quite fixated on John’s appearance. A sweet smile, warm eyes, just the right height, everything about John drew him in and lead him to see more and more beauty.
He stopped dead in his tracks, letting his train of thought crash and burn. He quickly backtracked and returned to analyzing John’s behaviors towards him. He was only a week away from catching up to the present day and he’d already determined that John likely found Sherlock to be somewhat attractive.
For lack of a better term, Sherlock understood that John was out of his league. John could do better and deserved better, so why did he find Sherlock to be attractive? The genius could not understand.
By the end of it, Sherlock concluded that John is attracted to him.
Out of curiosity, he went back even further. He wanted to find the moment it began.
He made it all the way back to their first case together. The very first crime scene. He’d just made his deductions and John complemented him. There he saw it. The first time John expressed attraction. Sherlock almost thought it was funny that John should find him attractive only after he showed his genius in a crime scene. He looked at Sherlock the way he should have looked at Irene. Originally, he had mistook the expression of attraction for one of amazement. So perhaps John always thought him attractive, but until recently, he hadn’t been expressing it so often.
He slowly left his mind palace and blinked as he looked around. He found John halfway asleep in his chair. He glanced at the time and saw it was nearly dinner.
“Takeaway?” He suggested.
John wasn’t even phased by his sudden resurgence into reality. “Already ordered.”
Sherlock gave a soft smile. He wasn’t sure what to do with this new information. John was attracted to him. So what? He could leave it be and never speak of it. But for some reason, he didn’t want to do that. All he knew was that there was something he wanted to do, he just couldn’t identify what it was. There was a strange sense of purpose in him, as if he had a mission. He thought a moment and considered that perhaps, he only wanted to tell John about his deduction, but he knew that wasn’t it. All that would do is embarrass John and potentially make their relationship awkward. Sherlock didn’t want that. But he did like the idea of talking about it. He was on the right track, but not exactly on the mark. Maybe he wanted to tell others? He wasn’t particularly the type to brag and John’s tastes weren’t anyone’s business. He found he also didn’t like that idea. Talking to John about it was something that remained in his mind when he tried to picture what it was he wanted.
Then he realized his heart was beating faster. He blinked and brought his hands together, subtly taking his own pulse. A minute later and he found it to be above average. Was he anxious? Worried? Stressed? No. It wasn’t any of that. Was it excitement? Yes. He realized he was excited. Excited about whatever it was that he had to do. But what did he have to do what was so positive?
He suddenly became aware of the small smile that still rested on his face. The smile that John caused with his cleverness. He had always thought John was quite clever. He was the only one who knew how to keep up with him. Even in the simple way he already knew Sherlock would want takeaway.
A small thought turned the smile into a frown.
He shouldn’t be happy about that.
Sherlock never liked the idea of someone knowing him so intimately. But John did. Not only did he know Sherlock, but he showed off his knowledge by ordering takeaway ahead of time. Sherlock shouldn’t be happy about that, he should be uncomfortable. But he wasn’t.
He furrowed his eyebrows and his eyes moved to stare at the floor as he focused more and more on his racing thoughts.
He liked that John knew him so well, it made him smile, he was excited that John found him attractive, it made his pulse quicken, he also found John to be physically attractive, going as far to accidentally think the man to be adorable. This was the evidence that laid before him. It made him wonder if he was experiencing attraction towards John. A physical and emotional attraction.
Typically, Sherlock was very cold and analytical towards physical beauty. He could recognize it from a scientific standpoint in both masculine and feminine body types. But with John, he found himself pleased with the other’s appearance on a deeper level than what he was used to. He didn’t just recognize his beauty, his beauty excited him.
He let his eyes met John’s form, slowly raking over the other with the focus of a predator that was calculating an attack on it’s prey. He took in every detail and found that there was no inch of John that he found unattractive. Every part of the man before him was pleasing to the eye and that unnerved him. He’s never found someone to be so completely attractive before. To him, John had no real flaws, only little quirks that made him even more attractive. Like that stupid laughter line that was deeper than the other. That in particular he found to be overwhelmingly charming.
The fact that he found another person to be charming was enough to nearly send Sherlock into a panic. He’s never thought that of another person. But here he was, charmed by the appearance of John alone.
That only sent him down another rabbit hole. All the ways he was attracted to John’s personality. His maturity, confidence, sarcasm, calmness, brains, strength, vulnerabilities, it was all so wonderful to him.
It was then that he realized there was not one part of John that he wasn’t attracted to. For the first time in his life, Sherlock was absolutely enraptured by another person. It should scare him, he should be afraid. It would be easy if he was afraid, disgusted by himself, even angry that he’d let it happen. If he felt any of those things, he could fight it. He could put distance between them until he found a way to undo those unfamiliar emotions. He could undo it all until he only saw John as his friend again. He could fix everything. But that was utterly impossible because he was happy. He had neither qualm nor doubt.
John was utterly lost by the powerful expressions on Sherlock’s face.
It all began when he felt eyes on him. He glanced over and did a double-take when he realized that Sherlock was staring at him with a passionate yet calculated stare. He blinked in surprise and it took all his willpower for him not to squirm. It was an expression that only a few people had ever looked at him with, and it was usually followed by a wild night in bed. Truthfully, it was an expression he’d been hoping he would one day see Sherlock stare at him with, but the context was fuzzy. He’d be a lot more flattered if he knew why Sherlock was staring at him like that.
He felt and saw the eyes slowly rake up his body, soaking in every detail. John hadn’t felt this naked in a long time. He was utterly exposed.
He watched the expression change from intense, to a brief state of shock, relax into something loving, and then turn into something warm and happy. He’d never seen such expressions on Sherlock’s face and he thought it nothing short of beautiful.
He could only hope to know what was going on in Sherlock’s wonderful mind.
Sherlock blinked a few times and found himself freed from his deep thoughts. But as he tasted reality, another thought flashed in his head just before he left.
’Do I love him?’
Sherlock’s eyes widened and he stared at the floor in shock.
He looked up to meet John’s confused gaze. He knew he’d been caught and that John would question him. But now, there were far too many uncertainties for him to give an explanation.
Sherlock, though he’d never been in love and hadn’t really dated, had slept with a few people. But he knew that whatever he was feeling towards John was much deeper than anything he’s known before. He didn’t know how to deal with it.
“I need to make a phone call.” He announced as he quickly stood and went into his room, noticeably faster than his normal walking pace. He cursed himself for it, knowing that John noticed.
He estimated he had fifteen minutes before John would leave to pick up the food, and ten more before John would come knocking for him.
He had twenty-five minutes to get his shit together.
He pulled out his phone and thought a moment. Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade would mean well, but wouldn’t be of any practical help. Mycroft wasn’t an option. Perhaps Molly.
He dialed her number and sat down on the edge of his bed, even though he knew he would eventually start pacing around.
“Hello? Sherlock?”
“Yes, I-“ He cut himself off a moment. He was always a bit surprised when people knew it was him before he introduced himself. But he was slowly becoming used to the fact that he did have friends who saved his phone number. “I need your help.”
A bit of urgency filled Molly’s tone. “Is everything alright?”
“No! I like John!” It was then that he realized the tone of his voice carried a genuine fear.
There was a pause on the other line. “Oh. You like him? As in, a friendly way ..... or something more?”
Sherlock huffed. “Something more, you know this! If it was only friendly I wouldn’t’ve called. You’re intelligent, Molly, be more confident in your deductions.” His tone was borderline scolding.
Molly couldn’t help but to smile. He rarely did it, but when Sherlock complemented something, she knew it was genuine. Had he said this a few years ago, she may have giggled. But the ring on her finger and her fiancée sitting across from her lessened the effect it might have had. “When did you realize this?”
“A few minutes ago. After analyzing John’s behavior, I’ve come to realize John is physically attracted to me. Afterwards I accidentally uncovered that I feel the same way about him. It shouldn’t have meant anything to me, but it did, and that’s what lead me to see that I have a very strong emotional attachment to John.”
“I always assumed he fancied you, but I didn’t think I was right so I never said anything.”
“Molly! You should have told me! Stop doubting yourself!” Sherlock rose to his feet and began walking around his room. “The facts are that me and John are both physically attracted to each other, and I have very strong feelings for him.”
Molly nodded, knowing that this was the only way Sherlock was able to work through his emotions. He treated them like a case. “Can you describe those feelings?”
“Loving.” The word came out after a pause. It was something he’d wished he could swallow and never let out, something he wanted to keep locked away and hidden in the core of his body, but he knew that wouldn’t be helpful. So, regretfully, he let the word slowly slide out of his mouth.
“Loving?” Molly questioned. She grinned and felt an excitement bubble up inside of her.
Sherlock was the one who dragged Molly across a pub to talk to the lady that she was now engaged to marry. She felt that she owed him one. “Care to elaborate?”
Sherlock sighed. He sounded defeated. “Just to be clear, I most certainly am not in love with John. But I do have loving feelings for him, in fact, I may even love him.” The words were clouded by an air of uncertainty. As he heard himself speak, he realized his contradiction. “Alright, perhaps, I do love John. But certainly it must be as a brother or close friend. No. No. If it were that simple I wouldn’t have such a strong physical attraction to him, and said physical attraction wouldn’t elicit an emotional response in me.”
“Mind elaborating on the emotional response you get from John’s appearance?”
It was then that Molly’s betrothed mouthed the question, “I thought you were on the phone with Sherlock?”
“I am.” She mouthed back.
They then shared the excitement of Sherlock having potentially found love. They both thought he deserved it.
“When I look at John, my pulse quickens, I become elated, I’m drawn in, I get distracted, I would even say I struggle to think clearly. My loving feelings towards John seem to make themselves more apparent when I look at him and take the time to notice every lovely detail.” He caught himself just after confessing he thought John was lovely. “Oh god, I called him lovely! Molly, you wouldn’t mind killing me, would you?”
“Again? Not going to happen.” She referred to Sherlock’s infamous fall. “Sherlock, it seems you love John as more than a friend or brother. I would consider that to be a fact.”
“Finally! Confident in your deductions! And you’re entirely correct. I’m inclined to agree that I do love John. I love him very much. So. The facts have changed. John finds me physically attractive, and I have loving feelings for John.”
“Are you sure you aren’t in love with John?”
“Of course not! Yes, I love John. But that doesn’t mean that I-“ He cut himself off as his eyes widened. Molly was right. “Oh god. I’m in love with John!”
Molly couldn’t help but to let out a laugh. “I’m so happy for you!”
Sherlock frowned. “Well I don’t quite see how! I’m having a crisis!”
“Sherlock, think about this reasonably. This could be a good thing.”
He furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you suggesting that I tell John how I feel, and attempt to enter a relationship with him?”
“Yes. It would be good for the both of you!”
“Molly, I know nothing of his feelings for me!”
“Perhaps you don’t, but we do know someone who might.” She suggested.
Sherlock audibly gasped. “Lestrade!” John’s second best friend and drinking buddy. If he was to confess his feelings for Sherlock to anyone, it would be Lestrade. “Molly, you’re an absolute genius!”
He hung up and checked the time. He had just under ten minutes to convince Lestrade to share John’s feelings.
He dialed the number and it rang twice before he picked up.
“Sherlock?” Lestrade was confused because there was no case, and Sherlock didn’t typically call just to chat, meaning something was probably wrong.
“Lestrade, there’s no time to waste! I’m in love with John and I have to know how he feels about me!” He demanded.
Lestrade froze where he sat at his desk and blinked a few times. “Why would I even kn-“
“Because you and John drink together and drunks can become very open, especially in the presence of a friend. Meaning that if John had any feelings for me, he would have told you and you alone. So. What has he said?”
Lestrade wanted to argue. He really did. He wanted to tell Sherlock that he didn’t know what he means, he wanted to change the subject, he wanted to deny it all, but he couldn’t. Sherlock was absolutely right and they both knew it. He’d promised John that everything they said while drunk, stayed between them. But quite honestly, if he stayed silent, then there was a good chance that nothing would ever happen between them. As their friend, Lestrade couldn’t allow that to happen.
“He’s said quite a few things.”
Sherlock was a bit surprised by how willing Lestrade was to talk about it.
“For about a year now he’s been struggling with his feelings for you. Said he fancied you but that he needs to get over it because he thought you’d never feel that way about him. Three days ago, he told me he’s almost certain that he loves you. Keep in mind that was the night he was hammered on six shots of tequila.”
Sherlock remembered that night. He’d spent most of it in the bathroom with John, sitting on the cold floor and talking him through his urges to puke. He spent four hours on the floor and got almost no sleep, not that he slept much anyways. He helped John change into his pajamas, brought him soda to settle his stomach, and he left a cold bottle of water and a pain reliever on his nightstand in the morning.
John apologized throughout the day for his drunkenness and how he was such a bother. Sherlock dismissed it all and said it was no problem, making sure to keep the lights low and not even touching his violin.
“Yesterday, just before I left work, I got a text from him saying he’s certain that loves you.”
Sherlock blinked and stopped pacing. He sat down on his bed. “He said that he didn’t think I would ever feel the same way about him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Sherlock, you uh. Well. You don’t really date, and you’ve never expressed interest in anyone. John’s told me he suspects you’re aromantic and possibly asexual. I know it isn’t our business and we shouldn’t’ve been making assumptions, but he’s desperate for you. Really. Just, arse over tits. I honestly think he was only telling me because I’ve known you longer and he wanted me to convince him that he’s wrong. John really really cares for you. If you’re absolutely certain that you love him, then please, tell him.”
Sherlock took a deep breath. “Right. Thank you, Greg.”
Lestrade smiled. “No problem. Let me know how it goes.”
They both hung up and Sherlock let out a groan. He laid back on his bed and sighed. He was far too anxious to even attempt words so he resorted to stretching out and whining on his bed. It was strangely comforting.
Only a moment later and there was a knock at his door. “Sherlock? Off the phone yet? Your food’s going to get cold.”
A lazy smile found it’s way onto Sherlock’s face. He decided that he very much enjoyed the sound of John’s voice. “Yes. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Is everything alright?”
He should have expected this. Of course John would be suspicious. Of course he would have questions. After his display in the sitting room, it would be strange if John didn’t question him.
“Everything is fine, John.”
Everything wasn’t fine at all. It wasn’t bad either, but it wasn’t fine. Sherlock didn’t quite know how he felt. But somehow, among all his doubts and uncertainties, he knew everything would be alright.
He also knew that he couldn’t hide in his room forever.
He stood up, stretched once more, and went straight to his mirror. He knew there was no point, but he still felt the needless biological urge to fix his appearance before he presented himself to a potential mate. He straightened his clothes, fixed his hair, and felt like a complete idiot.
Nevertheless, he left his bedroom and returned to the sitting room.
Sherlock sat down and suddenly realized that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing.