Okay so it's been a while since I last updated. First week of school and I'm already drowning in homework and such. Still, I managed to get something written ( a decent amount of this chapter was actually written in school) and I hope it's not too terrible.

Thank you to everyone who has read/voted/commented!! You guys are amazing!

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For the next week or so John stayed at Ollie's house. He spent his time wallowing in self pity while Ollie worked, then at night he slept on Ollie's couch trying to get some sleep, and almost always failing. It seemed every time John closed his eyes he saw Sherlock. He saw Sherlock's angry face, yelling at him like he had just suggested they invade Russia in winter. He saw the look of surprise on his face after he'd kissed him. He saw Sherlock sitting on the sofa, completely immersed in his phone. And no matter what version of Sherlock he saw, it always hurt to see him. It was why John didn't leave Ollie's house for the entire time he stayed there. He didn't want to risk running into Sherlock anywhere. If he couldn't handle seeing him in his dreams, how was he supposed to handle seeing him in real life?

The first time he went into the outside world was to get his cast removed. It had been early in the morning, but John didn't mind. Ollie was able to give him a ride to St. Bart's, but couldn't stay with him as he had to get to work.

He was still trying to get used to walking with just the cane and no cast on when he ran into Mrs. Hudson. He had been walking up and down the hallway and had seen her standing outside someone's room.

"Mrs. Hudson?" he called out when he was sure he was within earshot. She looked up, and smiled when she saw John limping towards her.

"Oh, John! How are you?"

"Could be better, honestly." She gave him a knowing look, and he started trying to prepare himself for the conversation that was going to come.

"You're not at Baker Street."

"No, I'm um, I'm staying with a friend for a bit." John decided it would be better not to tell Mrs. Hudson just what friend he was staying with, just in case she talked to Sherlock about this run in. Not only did he not want to risk Sherlock showing up at Ollie's house when he's laying on the couch in nothing but a bath robe and eating ice cream like a heartbroken teenager, but he was pretty sure Sherlock wasn't too fond of Ollie. Mrs. Hudson nodded her head, then sucked in a breath.

"He's a mess John, an absolute wreck."

"He- what?" John asked, furrowing his brow and squinting at Mrs. Hudson.

"What happened?" She asked, reaching out to lightly touch John's shoulder. John felt his jaw clench as he looked down and shook his head.

"Nothing." Mrs. Hudson gave a noise of disbelief.

"Well, it sure doesn't seem like nothing. He hasn't left the flat since you did. I don't think he's eaten much either. I've gone up there several times to try and talk to him, but it's no use. He just sits on the sofa all day, staring at the door or his phone, like he's waiting for something. What he's waiting for I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I hope it shows up soon." She sighed and shook her head. "I hate seeing him like this, John. He looks so upset."

"Really?" John asked, genuinely surprised by this information. He couldn't imagine Sherlock behaving in such a way, though John had to admit if he'd been kissed by his flat mate, who claimed to be straight, in the heat of an argument he would be rather out of sorts as well. He sighed and ran his hands over his face. He really had no idea how to fix this. Mrs. Hudson gently rubbed his shoulder, and when he looked at her she gave him a comforting smile.

"John, I don't know what it is that has happened with you two, but I know you'll be fine." John gave her a sad smile and sighed.

"I wish I could say I believed you." He gave her a quick hug, then they parted ways. John returned to Ollie's house and set up camp in the living room. As he sank down into Ollie's plush sofa, he let out a frustrated sigh. He wasn't sure if he was upset or relieved that Sherlock seemed to be as bad off as he was. After a moment of deliberation, John decided he felt absolutely terrible that Sherlock was in such distress. He'd done absolutely nothing, yet he was suffering because John couldn't control his emotions.

About an hour after John had returned from the hospital, Ollie came home for lunch. He seemed to sense immediately that John was in a worse mood than usual, but also seemed to sense that he was in no mood to talk. He ate his lunch in the kitchen, and John remained on the sofa watching some soap opera he remembered his mother watching when he was little. When Ollie left he said goodbye, and John had simply grunted in response. After the door had shut he'd gotten up to make some tea, and when he noticed Ollie's house keys sitting on the kitchen counter he began to feel even worse than he already had been. John's mood had Ollie in such a rush to get out of his own home that he'd left his keys behind. Why was he being so impolite? Ollie was being nice enough to let John stay at his house, without even knowing why it was John needed a place to stay, and he was treating him so terribly. He sighed and let his head drop, allowing a fresh wave of self pity to wash over him.

There was a knock at the door, and John grabbed Ollie's keys before walking to answer it. He was surprised that it hadn't taken Ollie longer to realized he'd left his keys behind. He opened the door and started to apologize to Ollie about how mean he'd acted, but found that he was rendered speechless when he saw that it was Sherlock standing before him. Ollie's keys slipped from his grasp, but John didn't hear them hit the floor.

"John," Sherlock said in a hoarse whisper. He looked slightly startled, but only for a moment. He straightened up and stared directly into John's eyes with an intensity John had never seen before.

"Come back to Baker Street." John dropped his gaze and sighed.

"I... can't. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever, I don't know."

"What?" Sherlock asked, his tone both bewildered and forceful. John looked around, searching for something to look at other than Sherlock. His stomach was doing somersaults just from hearing him, from knowing that he was there, and so incredibly close. "John, look at me." He remained still. "John."

Sherlock actually sounded nervous. He sounded so incredibly...vulnerable. It was heartbreaking to hear him like this, but mostly confusing because he didn't understand why Sherlock was so upset.

Very slowly John lifted his eyes to look into Sherlock's. When he did so he immediately wished he hadn't. They were bloodshot. They looked tired and sad, and they looked so many other things that John couldn't describe using words from his known vocabulary.

"Come back, please."

"Sh- I can't."

"Why not?" Sherlock yelled, his brow furrowing. Despite the angry look on his face, John could still see the look of hurt in his eyes, and his heart nearly broke all over again. He sighed and shrugged.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." His voice was firm, but there had still been a slight tremor that John couldn't ignore, no matter how much he wanted to.

"I can't come back because..." he drifted off, trying to find the right words to say. He ultimately decided that there was no 'right' way to say what he was about to and took in a deep breath, staring directly into Sherlock's eyes.

"I can't go back because you're there."

"What's wrong with me?" Sherlock asked, sounding incredibly insulted, which he had every right to be. John sighed and shrugged.

"Well, Sherlock, where do I begin? You're arrogant, stubborn, and childish." With each adjective John listed he saw Sherlock's face grow angrier and angrier, but he kept going. "You're impulsive and judgmental, but..." Sherlock's face softened. "But, you're brilliant, and gorgeous, and talented, and witty. And, you still have room somewhere in that magnificent brain of yours to remember my jumper size and what my favourite brand of crisps is. You're bloody perfect!" Sherlock stared at him in disbelief for a moment before that all-too-familiar look of anger came over his features. He bent over so that his eyes were level with John's before he started speaking in a voice so low John had to strain his ears to hear it.

"You're not making sense."

"You asked me a question, and I answered it!"

"Not very well I must say."

"Nobody asked you."

"John why won't you come back?"

"I just told you!"

"You did not!"

"I did!"

"John, why-"

"Because I love you, Sherlock!"

"And? I've been in love with you for months and I never left!"

"Yes, but-" Suddenly John's vocal chords ceased to function as he realized what he'd just said, and what they'd just admitted to each other. He watched with his mouth hanging open as the anger drained from Sherlock's face and was replaced with shock and surprise.

"You... what?" John asked quietly. Sherlock immediately straightened up and avoided eye contact with him.

"I- um," he sighed and covered his reddening face with his hands. "You heard me say it once, please don't make me say it again."

"No. Say it, or I'm staying here." Sherlock's jaw dropped and he stared at John with disbelief. His eyes were begging for John to change his mind, but there was no way that was going to happen. He needed this. He needed to hear it.

Finally, Sherlock sighed and his shoulders slumped.

"Alright fine," he said, looking up. "I love you John Watson." He let out a breath. "Happy now?"

John didn't reply. He just threw his arms around Sherlock and rested the side of his face against his chest. Without hesitation, Sherlock's arms encircled John as well and he pressed his cheek to the top of his head.

"All this time?" John asked. Sherlock's reply was a gentle hum and a tightening of his hold on John. John didn't speak again. He couldn't. He wanted to apologise for being so stupid, and so blind, but he only held Sherlock tighter and for a while they just stood in the doorway, locked in an embrace. John pulled away after several minutes, but only enough to place his hands on Sherlock's forearms. He was able to look up at Sherlock, who was smiling down at him with a look of what John now knew to be love showing in his eyes.

"Months?" Sherlock cast his eyes downward and nodded. John squeezed Sherlock's arms slightly and stared up at him, confused. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"The thought of finally gathering up the courage to say something only to have you reject me was...a bit off-putting. You know just as well as I do how much rejection can hurt." John's eyes flicked down to Sherlock's lips, then down to the floor.

"And yet you still rejected me."

"I did not reject you! You never gave me a chance to do anything. Forgive me for being a bit taken aback after you kissed me like that." John kept his eyes downcast and nodded, feeling incredibly embarrassed all of a sudden. Sherlock chuckled, and when John looked up he couldn't help but to laugh as well.

"Well," he said, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of Sherlock's coat, "Where do we go from here?"

"Well I was hoping you'd come back to Baker Street."

"Of course, Sherlock, but-"

"Or if you're hungry we could stop by Angelo's-"

"Sherlock!" John said, tightening his grip on Sherlock's forearms. He sighed. "I meant... I meant where do we go with, us?" Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh. Well, as you know I'm a bit inexperienced when it comes to relationships...but I suppose here," he moved his right hand to grab John's left, and placed his other hand on John's shoulder, "is a good place to start." He moved his hand from John's shoulder to his cheek, and as John stared up into those gorgeous eyes of his he knew where this was going. He slid the fingers of the hand not currently being held by Sherlock into his messy curls and pulled him closer.

John's eyes fell shut just as their lips met. The kiss was slow and sweet, with Sherlock gently massaging John's hand with his thumb. John tightened the hold he had in Sherlock's hair, and the detective took it as an invitation to deepen the kiss. He pried John's mouth open and slipped his tongue inside. John smiled into the kiss, and felt Sherlock smiling as well. John managed to capture Sherlock's bottom lip between his teeth and sucked, earning a deep groan from Sherlock that he felt throughout his body. His heart was beating rapidly, pounding against his ribcage. He placed a hand on Sherlock's lower back and pulled him closer, so that he could feel Sherlock's equally as fast heartbeat against his chest.

After a while they had to separate to catch their breath, but even then they remained close, lips brushing against each other's sharing breaths, passing them back and forth.

"Well, isn't that sweet," a voice said, startling them both. They didn't let go of each other, but John did stand on the tips of his toes to peer over Sherlock's shoulder. He saw Ollie smiling at him, and couldn't help but to smile back. Sherlock rolled his eyes, then moved to stand beside John, draping an arm over his shoulders.

"Hello, Oliver."

"Sorry to interrupt, but I forgot my keys and, um... they're kind of..." he trailed off and pointed at the floor. They all looked down, and saw the keys sitting beside John's left foot. He reached down to pick them up, and handed them to Ollie.

"Thanks mate. I'll, uh, see you around I guess."

"Of course. Thanks again." Ollie left as quickly as he'd come, leaving John and Sherlock alone once again. John left Sherlock's side briefly to retrieve his phone, shoes, and wallet, then they left Ollie's house. As they walked down his driveway John felt Sherlock's arm find its way back onto his shoulders. He reached up and placed his hand over where Sherlock's was resting on his shoulder, interlacing their fingers, and Sherlock let out a heavy breath.

"Sorry," John said, removing his hand. "I know you're not really comfortable with... I mean, I'm not fully comfortable-"

"Just because I'm not used to this does not mean I don't enjoy it." John gave Sherlock a small smile, then returned his hand to its previous position. Sherlock gave his hand a slight squeeze and chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

"What?" John asked, looking up at him. Sherlock shook his head and smiled.

"Nothing, just..." he laughed again. "This is almost too good to be true." John joined in on his laughter, then nudged him in the side with his elbow.

"I know exactly how you feel."