Chapter Text
A violin string snaps.
John's gun kills the cabbie.
An eyeball explodes in the microwave.
Sherlock deduces who killed the firefighter.
Mrs. Hudson spills her tea.
Graham eats half a donut down at the station.
All of these things can happen within a second. But what Sherlock did not expect was what happened right this second. In the second or maybe minute or maybe hours after John had pinned him to the wall next to their front door and everything had gone a bit fuzzy in Sherlock's brain. John was kissing him. So intensely. So thoroughly. Just so very very lovingly. And right in this second, Sherlock was the happiest Consulting Detective in the world.
Later when Sherlock lays on the couch, fingers pressed together beneath his chin, his brain finally comes all the way back online and he starts to doubt. Not himself. He’s very sure about himself. And also not about John. He knew since the first day, after all. But what about the work? Will kissing interfere with their work? Will there even be more kissing? Does he want more kissing? Will John eventually grow tired with him?
Okay, maybe he does doubt himself. And maybe he does doubt John. But this is important, so very very important. So if he just spends the rest of the evening and also the night replaying the kiss in his head over and over again, that is perfectly fine.
He emerges out of his mind palace around three in the morning and is surprised to find a soft blanket spread over his legs and torso. When he jumps up and tightens his robe, he automatically takes a step towards his own bedroom, but then freezes and looks over to the stairs. Would John mind…?