Let's have dinner.

John wanted to say something, anything, but he found himself speechless when Sherlock said he wouldn't want to kiss anyone else.
Sherlock would really choose him over Irene?

He started when she spoke, her words rather cryptic, he looked at her.
She was getting ready to go.
"I... am sorry?" he apologized, not sure if it was in order at all.

Sherlock watched as Irene walked casually out of the room, a cheeky smile on her face, then he turned back to John unsure of what to say and suddenly rather embarrassed. For a while they stood there in silence.

"Well..." he announced finally, "This is...interesting. What do you uhhh...what do you make of it all?" Sherlock studied John's face carefully, eager for some kind of reassurance that this was all OK, that things weren't suddenly going to be weird between them because they'd kissed.

John felt the awkwardness of the moment fall on him suddenly, his blue eyes moving up to look at Sherlock.
"That's a good question," he muttered noncommittally.

What he really wanted at the moment was to kiss Sherlock again, to make sure that he really had it right and that it felt as wonderful as he had always thought. But to admit that out loud seemed to be impossible at the moment.
"I am... sorry I ruined your... er... date, I guess..." he stammered, his hands fisting and unfisting at his sides.

"I don't know Sherlock... what do you think we should do?" he asked, a bit desperate.

Sherlock stared at John's face longingly. One part of his mind was telling him to do crazy things and he could actually see himself doing them - like grabbing John by the scruff of his jumper and kissing him endlessly all over his body. Sherlock shivered. Where the hell were these thoughts coming from? All because of one kiss? Insanity. He studied John's face and tried to read what he was thinking. He looked...uncomfortable, awkward...embarrassed?

"It wasn't a date," he replied automatically, "and you didn't ruin it, you improved it." Was that the right thing to say? Sherlock shrugged slightly, his body answering his own question. He didn't really care if it was the right thing to say, it was honest, and being honest was always the most important thing.

"Do? Ummm....I'm not sure you'd want to know...." Another of the surprising images flashed up in Sherlock's mind of him kissing John once again. He rubbed his eyes to try and clear it.

John looked at him sideways, he had a feeling he knew what Sherlock was talking about, if not for the simple fact that it was what he wanted as well.
He reckoned he would never be able to admit it though.
Not now at least.

He stepped closer, in Sherlock's personal space, his blue eyes sparkling softly. "Does it have to do with me being close to you?" he asked, his voice surprisingly seductive, he had no idea he could do this, but he wanted it, God he wanted it.

Sherlock struggled to catch his breath as John stepped in a little closer. He could feel the heat from John's body against his, could smell his scent, could almost taste him. He didn't know what to do with his hands, where to put them. They just fell awkwardly by his sides.

Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to calm his thoughts, his body, his emotions..."Yes," he answered simply, unable to say any more.

John swallowed hard, his thoughts short-circuiting in his brain. What was he supposed to do? He just wanted to be closer, he just wanted to taste Sherlock again.

His hand moved to cup the other's waist, almost at his hip, just feeling the warmth of his body. His senses seemed to be craving so much more.
He leaned up, almost brushing his lips against Sherlock's.
"Does it involve your lips on mine?"

Sherlock kept his eyes closed. As John moved even closer his breathing became erratic and irregular. He ran a tongue over his dry lips and gulped.

He couldn't speak, couldn't form any words at all. He just gave the slightest nod of his head, and hoped John would notice it.

It was the slightest movement, but John was looking at Sherlock very intently and from very close, he doubted he could ever miss anything at the moment. It was like there was a connection between them that they couldn't shake.

So he decided to stop doubting himself, he leaned closer and he pressed their lips together.
Just like their first kiss, except this time he had no intention of pulling away.

And he was going to make sure Sherlock wouldn't either, he buried his hand in the other's hair, a firm grip as he pulled him down even closer.

Sherlock felt the brush of John's lips on his, just a glance at first, then forceful, hungry, John's hand at the back of his head keeping him there. Not that he was planning to go anywhere in a hurry.

It was just like before except this kiss was long, lingering, more passionate. Sherlock's hands found themselves around John's waist and pulling their bodies together. He felt a warm tingling spreading from their mouths to the rest of his body, tiny electric sparks passing between them as they shared this wonderful moment. Sherlock took note of his senses, fascinated and surprised by the way John made him feel.

John's body was quickly growing hot, the kiss was getting more passionate and he hardly knew how to deal with it.
He was crazy for Sherlock, that was clear, and he had never thought he'd find himself in this position, but he wasn't going to lose this chance, not when Sherlock seemed to want him as well.

The mere idea Sherlock could have stayed with Irene instead was making him want to brand Sherlock with hickeys all over his body.

All he could do now was kiss though, and his body pressed closer, attaching itself with Sherlock's, while his hips instinctively rubbed against the other man's.

Sherlock kept his eyes closed, monitoring every other sense except vision - the touch of John's hands on his body, the taste of his lips and his tongue, the smell of his breath and his aftershave, the sound of their lips clashing together and the gentle moans escaping from both of them. It was a revelation.

But what did it all mean? If this was an experiment, what were the results? What was the outcome? Sherlock's head became muggy with thoughts, stopping him from enjoying the experience fully, and he pulled his head back slightly to look at John. His eyelids were heavy, he could barely hold them open as he gazed into his flatmate's eyes, gasping.

"John...what...what does it mean?" he asked, stammering. "Do...do I...love you?"

John felt dizzy when Sherlock pulled away, his taste still lingering on his lips. "What?" he mumbled, confused for a long moment. Love? Sherlock thought he loved him?
"I don't know, Sherlock..." he admitted, running his hand through his hair.

"It means you are attracted to me, and it means you are attracted to me more than to other people..." he tried to explain. "I cannot tell you what to feel though..."

Sherlock considered John's words and began to wonder whether he loved John or whether he was just attracted to him. Seeing as these were all new emotions in an entirely new situation, it was difficult to distinguish between the two.

He stared down into John's eyes, then quickly realised that at the current moment in time, he really didn't care. All he cared about was what he wanted right now, and what he wanted more than anything was more of what they'd just been doing.

"Fuck it," Sherlock muttered, almost inaudibly, then before he could allow himself to think, pushed John up against the wall, pinning him there with his hands on his shoulders, then pressed their lips together hard and passionate. "Just kiss me John," he mumbled into his friend's mouth.

John looked back at him, unsure of how he could help him clear up his thoughts, his own were already confused enough, but at least he knew exactly that the way he craved for Sherlock was much more than simple attraction.

He was about to say something else when Sherlock pushed him against the wall, driving the breath out of him with his body. He huffed, but the laugh that came out faded in the heated kiss that enveloped them.

"I like this aggressive side of you," he muttered after a while, his lips swollen for kissing as he caressed his cheek.

Sherlock moaned, his hands running themselves along John's arms and down to his hips, then snaking round his back hungrily, their lips still locked in eager embrace. Sherlock's heart was pounding, he was listening to his body, he'd think about the consequences later but right now he needed this.

He pulled back suddenly, gasping and breathless, surprised by the intensity of his own desires for his flatmate. He panted, staring down lustfully into John's blue grey eyes.

"Jesus....I don't know what's come over me..." but his hands were still exploring, the passion still lingering. "I want more."

John felt himself swallow hard when Sherlock mentioned he wanted more, a lot of things popping in his head, and they all made his already formed arousal twitch.
His own hands were tentatively on the other's hips, and he felt his knees were about to give up on him.

"You want... you mean... mm... sex?" he asked, trying to sound like he wasn't shaking.

Sherlock frowned and stared past John's shoulder, studying a speck of dust on the wallpaper and deep in thought. He didn't really know what he wanted. The idea of sex was quite alarming, having completely no experience in the area. But then, he trusted John and he wanted...he wanted something, something more...something more than kissing, he wanted more of John. Finally he turned his eyes back towards his flatmate.

"I...I think I do...yes...." he replied cautiously, realising he didn't exactly sound convincing, then added, "I mean...if...if you do..."

John's heart was beating in his ears by then, it was a miracle that he heard Sherlock at all. He couldn't mistake the words though, and he felt himself grab the other's collar nervously.
"Yes, of course I want it... I want nothing else more..." he muttered, feeling weak in the knees.

"My room?" he suggested, motioning to the hallway, feeling nervous and excited at the same time.

Sherlock gulped and glanced over his shoulder, half expecting someone to be there watching them. Then he grabbed John's hand and squeezed it hard, needing the contact, the support and the reassurance that this was fine.

"Yes," he replied nervously. "Your room sounds...great...."

John squeezed Sherlock's hand back as they started walking towards his room. "We don't have to jump into it, if you don't want that... it was... unexpected even for me..." he muttered, looking ahead a bit embarrassed.

"I was so jealous of Irene though... I thought... I thought I lost you for good," he admitted as he pushed his door open.

He pulled Sherlock close, kissing his lips innocently.
"I had no hope this would happen..."

"I had no idea it would happen," Sherlock admitted with a grin as they fell back against the open door in a kiss. "I didn't think I had it in me to be quite honest."

He walked past John and sat down on the edge of the bed, panic rising up in his chest. God he was really nervous.
"Have you ever done this before John?" he asked, jigging his leg up and down.

"I didn't think you had it in you either," he admitted with a short laugh. "Did you really moan my name when you were with Irene?" he asked, it seemed rather surreal.

He sat beside Sherlock, blushing when he was asked whether he had done this before. "Well, mm, when I was in university, there was this friend of mine who got very touchy every time he got drunk and well, mm, yeah, sometimes," he explained embarrassed.

Sherlock grabbed hold of John's hand and leant on his shoulder, holding him closer with his other arm.

"Yes I did," he smirked. "She was kissing me all down my neck and I couldn't get the image of you out of my mind. It was....strange. Quite a revelation actually."

He was quite relieved when John told him about his previous experience at University, although a little surprised. John was always so aggressive when denying they were a couple. Perhaps that was the reason why, he reflected.

"Sounds like you're a bit of an expert," Sherlock replied. "At least when compared to me you are." Then kissed John on the cheek and fell back on the bed. "Show me what to do then..." he demanded.

John growled at Sherlock's words about Irene, "I don't want to know about that, I can't believe you let her do that..." he commented, and stretched his shoulders nervously. "Mm, I... am glad you thought of me though... I am glad you stopped..." he admitted, rubbing his forehead.

He looked at Sherlock lying back on the bed, his body automatically pulsing with want.
"I guess," he muttered, even though he had never done it with someone he really cared about, like how he did for Sherlock.

He leaned closer, running his hand up Sherlock's thigh and along his hip.
"I have... always wanted to touch you... Sherlock," he admitted, his eyes moving up his body. He had never thought he would confess this.