*So this is my submission for fuckyeahjohnlockfanfics' August contest. It was a case or experiment fic that had to be 7,500 words long and have 5 out of I believe 31 prompt quotes in it (that's what the bold bits are). I wrote this in 48 hours so forgive me. I'm sure there are errors. Please review at the end!

Chapter 1

The date is December 6th,, and today I'm going to tell Sherlock that I love him.

John erases that line. Sherlock gets emails about his blog updates, how unromantic and impersonal if Sherlock reads that before John has a chance to tell him.

The date is December 6th, and I'd like to fuck Sherlock into next week.

John blinks at the screen as if he's surprised the words are there. He quickly erases that line and huffs.

The date is December 6th,, and I think it's time to move forward and—

"Move forward with what?" Sherlock asks from behind John.

John jumps. "Christ, Sherlock! How long have you been standing there?"

"Twenty-eight seconds, why?"

John takes a deep breath. Sherlock wouldn't still be standing there if he'd read what John just typed, so he doesn't ask about it. "No reason. You just scared me."

"Sorry. Writing up the last case?" Sherlock leaves John's shoulder and relocates at his chair.

John turns in his to face Sherlock. "Trying to. Sometimes these cases write themselves, sometimes writer's block catches up."

"Mmm," Sherlock answers. He's no longer listening, though.

John shifts uncomfortably in his chair. His stomach flutters with butterflies. Pterodactyls, actually, probably more accurately. John has been nervous about exactly three things in his life: his first kiss, his first time having sex, and sitting at Angelo's with Sherlock during their first case. John always kicks himself for saying, "Not his date!" far too quickly. But that's neither here nor there. John rubs his eyes to regain focus.

"Look, Sherlock, I need to—"

"Did you go to the shop today?"

John pauses and looks at Sherlock. "What?"

"I sent you a text asking if you'd pick up baking soda, bleach, and those chocolate things you know I like," Sherlock puts his phone down and looks at John. "Did you?"

"Wh—" John sighs. "My phone broke last night, I told you."

"Would you go now?"

John stares at Sherlock. "Now?"

"Yes. I need those things."

John scowls. "For what?"

"It's an experiment."

"Even the chocolate things?"

Sherlock smiles at John. "Please."

John loudly sighs. He stands, pushes his chair in, and walks to the door. "Anything else?"

"No, that's all thanks." Sherlock doesn't look at John, instead he begins tapping away at his phone.

"Arse," John mutters as he opens the front door and leaves.

Sherlock gives his reflection in his phone a wicked smile. "Oh, yes," he says to himself, "The game? It's freakin' on."

An hour before Sherlock had snuck up on John, he had been having tea with Molly.

"I love John," he said. "I really fucking love John."

Molly winced at the swear word but moved past it. "So what are you going to do about it?"

Sherlock smiled. "I don't know, I guess I should tell him, right?"

"That's what people usually do."

"I think it's about time," Sherlock says. "I think he'll enjoy me telling him."

"Yes, he would. You could take him close and whisper to him, 'John, I—'"

"Do you think John loves me?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"Oh, you know," Molly smiled. "The way he looks at you. The way he talks to you. The way he will do anything for you. He just…does."

Sherlock smiled. "Yes, I think I'll tell him then."

"Good. Like I was saying, you could take him in your arms, look into his eyes and say—"

"Or," Sherlock got a wicked smile then, too. "I could make an experiment out of it."

Molly buried her face in her hand. "No, Sherlock. For the last time, you can't experiment on living people—"

"I'll do many absurd things to see if he'll do them, thus proving he does love me."

"What? That's mad!"

"It's brilliant! I want him to tell me first!"

"That's utterly mad—"

Sherlock smiled. "But so perfect. It's a safe, entertaining experiment, and in the end he and I will both get what we want. Thank you, Molly!" Sherlock stood, grabbed his coat, and dashed out of the shop.

Twenty minutes later, he was home writing up his experiment.

Question: Does John love me?

Background: By Molly's explanation, the way he looks at me shows promise. And the things he does for me. And he talks to me in a nice way, unlike everyone else. He's been my friend for years and hasn't left; he even came back when I left. And I love him, so he must love me.

Hypothesis: John loves me.

Sherlock smiled. Even in his own bedroom he was embarrassed by his hypothesis. He goes on:

Experiment: I'm going to do absurd things to see if he really does love me.

Data: TBC.

Results: TBC.

Sherlock smiled and closed his laptop just as he heard John come down from his room. He went to the living room to greet John and begin his experiment.

John scowls the whole way to the shop.

"Bastard, always making me do things for him even though it's 7 o'clock and cold."

John pulls his coat around him tighter and scowls at the ground.

"He could do things, he knows that. He could do things for himself, but he makes me do them."

John finally arrives at the shop and quickly gets inside. It's very cold out and very warm in. He rubs his hands together and shivers the last bit of cold off him before he grabs a hand basket and makes his way through the store.

Now, what did he need? Oh, right. Baking soda.

John makes his way over to the baking soda and grabs a box. Then he finds the bleach and grabs a bottle. Finally he finds the stupid chocolate things and drops them into the basket. Before he leaves that isle, he grabs another for good measure.

John's about to check out when he glances outside and remembers it's cold out there. He'd rather not embark on his journey quite yet, so he thinks he may as well buy everything else they need.

Milk, check.

Butter, sure.

Yogurt, definitely.

Cheese, oh yes.

John wanders and gets to thinking. Why is it Sherlock has him do things all the time? Why can't Sherlock? He managed alone before. Because I'll do it, John thinks. Why do I do it? Why don't I tell him to sod off and do it himself? John opens the door to the egg shelves. Because he knows I'll do it because I love him. John picks up a carton of eggs and drops them. Christ, he knows I love him.

"Sir? Uh…sir…" a young worker comes around the corner to question John about the eggs.

"Geez, I'm sorry," John says. He's a bit dazed.

"Are you ok, sir?"

"Yes, perfect, thanks."

John sets the basket gently on the ground and darts out of the shop. He practically runs home after that. He wants to get home to tell Sherlock, to make grand declarations, and to kiss maybe a little. But when he gets there his plans are changed.

"Sherlock?" John calls as he runs up the stairs. "Sherlock, where are you?"

"In here." Sherlock says from the kitchen.

John stands in the doorway and watches Sherlock examine something under his microscope. He smiles at Sherlock. "Sherlock, listen, I've got to tell you—"

"Did you bring my stuff?"

John blinks a few times. "What?"

"Did you bring my stuff? The baking soda, the bleach—"

"What? No, Sherlock, I've got to—"

Sherlock looks at John. "Why not?"

"What?"

"Why didn't you bring my items?"

"Because…I ran here to—"

"I need that stuff John."

"But I—"

"Go back," Sherlock demands.

John glares. "Are you serious?"

Sherlock looks back at his microscope. "Yes. I need that stuff."

John turns angry quickly. "Oh, now you're just being a pain. Go yourself."

"I can't, I'm busy."

"You're not that busy."

Sherlock looks at John again. "Please."

John glares at Sherlock. Hard. He thinks Sherlock's brain should burst into flame but it doesn't. Finally he gives up. "Fine." John turns and leaves without another word.

Sherlock smiles.

"Two can play that game," John says to himself as he walks down the street. "I'm not going to tell him. Now he'll have to tell me. I'll have my own fun."

John arrives at the shop and stands getting warm for a few seconds.

"Back again, sir," the young man from before greets him.

"Yes. I had a misunderstanding. Won't be long," John says, making his way through the store once again.

John thinks about his plan from now. I could do ever single thing he asks and make him say it first. Yeah, that could be fun. Make him crack. John picks up the baking soda and bleach first. Or I could not do anything at all, nothing he asks, and make him beg for me. John smiles at his own thoughts. That would really be fun. John gets the milk, yogurt, and eggs, and as he's leaving he remembers the chocolate things. He makes his way back to the sweets isle and finds them. Then he doesn't do anything for what seems like a long time. He just stares at the chocolate things.

Finally he wickedly smiles.

That's it. I'll just fuck up a few things he asks me to do. His big brain will surely realize that I know and he'll be forced to give up. John leaves the sweets isle without the chocolate things. Yeah, that's it. He pays for his items and heads home.