“Do you want me to leave?”
He hadn't planned this. Hadn't planned anything that happened in the past 5 years since he met Sherlock. Hadn't planned to move in with him in the space of 24 hours, nor going on a case with him and solving a murder on their first day. Clearly, he didn't plan on getting abducted by Moriarty or getting his dates abducted by a chinese killer circus. And yet, all of it had happened.
Sherlock would have said it was the constant threat of danger that had kept him at 221B, but in reality it had always been it's dark haired and fair skinned resident that had drawn John in.
He doesn't know when it happened, or frankly, why it had, but all the time that he spent with the genius detective had left it's marks on him. He had more grey hairs than he liked to admit and his face was more wrinkled from frowning than it had been back in his army days. Still he wouldn't swap those years for anything.
He loved going on cases with Sherlock, to be his “Conductor of light” and to be a witness to his brilliance. He loved living with Sherlock. Forcing him to sleep and eat, taking care of him when he was ill and curing his boredom in between cases. In short, he loved spending time with his best mate and favourite highly-functioning not-so-much sociopath.
He hadn't planned this, but in those 5 years a lot of things happened and John doesn't know when, but somewhere along the way he fell in love with the younger Holmes brother.
He didn't plan it, because if he would have this wouldn't have been the outcome. He wouldn't have exclaimed his love for Sherlock in their shared flat while Sherlock was watching crap tv, yelling at all the mistakes and obvious plot holes. He would have made it special.
Sherlock still hadn't said a word, but sat frozen in his position on the sofa. Their eyes met and suddenly Sherlock burst out: “Don't you dare leave now! I have waited for this moment for more than 2 years now. So don't you dare leave!”