Usually it's Sherlock making abrupt decisions and blurting out things that surprise John, tonight things are different. It was normal enough to begin with, John was watching some reality show on the telly and drinking his third cuppa of the night, while Sherlock was off in his Mind Palace, palms flat together under his chin. It was only when John got up and rinsed his mug, coming back to stand next to Sherlock that things changed.

"Sherlock, I'm moving out." John said trying to hold his nerve, he could do this, he had to.

Sherlock's head turned to look at his flatmate so fast that John thought he must have gotten whiplash "What?" he asked horrified.

"I'm moving out." John repeated.

Sherlock stared at him for a moment before speaking "When? Why?" his voice was a little too high.

"On Monday and because I can't do this anymore, Sherlock, I need to leave before it drives me mad." John's voice was cracking, he would not get emotional in front of Sherlock, he could do that in his room later.

The detective thought what he could possibly have done to make John leave him, he scanned over every possibility in his mind but nothing seemed worthy of John moving out "John, what-what did I do? Please, tell me, I'll fix it. You don't have to leave, I don't know what I did…please?"

John's face turned into a sad smile "You didn't do anything, Sherlock."

"I don't understand, John, just tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it." Sherlock pleaded with John again and again but the doctor just shook his head trying to keep in the tears.

When John felt he could speak again he said "I'm going to bed." And quickly left, going straight to his room and collapsing on the bed. John's whole body shook with silent sobs as tears streamed down his face, Sherlock wanted to know what was wrong, but he couldn't tell the detective, Sherlock just wouldn't understand John's feelings for him.

John was still shaking when he heard Sherlock's voice from the doorway "John?"

Sherlock rushed to John's side and knelt beside the bed "John, this is ridiculous, would you just tell me what is going on?"

John just shook his head trying desperately to calm himself.

"Bloody hell, John, I love you, but sometimes-"

"What did you say?" John was startled into stillness, his heart pounding against his chest, had he heard Sherlock right? Or was his mind just trying to make it hurt less.

"I said I love you, John, do try to keep up." Sherlock was not a patient man, and this was starting to annoy him.

"You-you love me?" John whispered hope filling every cell in his body.

"Yes, John, I just said that, twice."

"I love you, too." John's eyes were wide; he couldn't think straight, Sherlock loved him back…

"I know you do, that's why I can't figure out why you're leaving."

"You already know?"

"John, I have known for some time."

"Why didn't you say anything?" John should have known that Sherlock would have already deduced it.

"Because I am an addict, John, I do not know if I could stop if you suddenly changed your mind."

"What do you mean?" he had to know everything, this changed things.

"If we were to pursue a relationship and you got sick of me, decided you didn't love me anymore; I don't think I could live through that, the withdrawals from not having you would kill me."

"Oh…I was only moving out because I didn't think you felt the same way, and I couldn't live with you anymore and not be loved back." John averted his eyes to look down at the quilt under him "I want us to be more than this, Sherlock, do you want that too?" He whispered meeting Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock was still and silent for a moment and then he surged forward, crushing his lips against John's. John responded immediately, apparently Sherlock did want this as much as John did. Suddenly Sherlock was crawling onto the bed, lips still locked on John's, the doctor tangled his fingers in Sherlock's soft black hair and the detective held John there, not willing to let go.

Eventually they had to break apart in order to get some much needed oxygen, "So, is that a yes?" John chuckled breathlessly.

"Yes, John, I am all yours, have been for months." Sherlock answered him a little breathless himself.

John smiled and moved to pull back his bed covers; already in his pyjamas he slid under the sheets but held them open in an invitation to the detective "Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Only if you stay here with me and don't move out." Sherlock replied. Everything rode on John's answer, but of course there was no hesitation now the cat was out of the bag, so to speak.

"Of course." He smiled, and Sherlock smiled back, one of those genuine smiles that John rarely saw, and got under the covers beside John, who pulled him close and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, snuggling his face into the dip where Sherlock's neck and shoulder met.

John was almost asleep when Sherlock's voice brought him back to consciousness "You're the cuddling type, aren't you?"

Not capable of much more, John just hummed a response into Sherlock's skin "Mhmmm…"

A few minutes later he heard Sherlock whisper "Good." John just tightened his hold on his detective and happily drifted off to sleep, just content to be curled up against Sherlock's warm back.

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Hey guys, so this is my first attempt at writing Johnlock, I hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think, much love xox