We paused for a second that seemed to last for years before Sherlock pushed me back against the wall and kissed me. Well, I say kissed - I doubt he'd ever kissed a man's lips before. He wasn't delicate and gentle like I somehow assumed he would be, he was quite forceful and heavy. He didn't use his tongue at all, which I was fine with, but it was still quite hard and over-done. It didn't feel right, so I pulled away from him and explained myself.

"Don't get offended, Sherlock-"

"W-why would I be?" The detective almost spoke in a whisper - he seemed a little confused and bewildered, but his eyes looked like they would've suited a puppy's face better than his own!

"No reason. Anyway, you're just a little..."

"A little what? What did I do wrong?" He was angry now, and an angry Sherlock is always a challenge.

"Have you ever kissed a man, Sherlock?" A pale blush came over my lover's cheeks as he moved his hands off of my waist and looked to his feet. I don't think I'd ever seen him embarrassed before, yet the tinge of his cheekbones seemed to fit him naturally. His voice was hushed again, even more so than before.

"I've always been curious as to what a man's lips would feel like against mine, I mean always. And you're so...compelling. I've wanted to know what kissing you feels like for a long time. What did I do wrong? Tell me, please!"

He sounded desperate now, but not in a selfish way - I could tell his emotions were running high as his pupils were dilated, like when he had overdosed... on the plane. His emotions were rarely unconcealed when he wasn't high. He seemed to be overwhelmed by everything happening in his head, and he wanted to be kissed to calm himself down. In many ways, love is a drug, an anti-depressant - kissing makes you happy when you're sad; hugging releases a kind of dopamine. Speaking as a doctor, I'm not surprised. I want to teach Sherlock how to kiss, how to kiss me. I want to teach him how to bring him back to being himself, as I couldn't use all fingers on a single hand to count the times I'd seen him scared, and I knew he wasn't used to it.

"Sherlock... Sherlock, listen to me. Just be soft and gentle, breathe deeply, wrap your arms around me...please."

And on that last word which I muttered to myself, he looked back up into my eyes and took my advice. He moved slowly forward and carefully placed his soft lips onto mine, breathing through his nose onto my cheek. I saw his eyes still wide open before I shut mine to immerse myself in this world I'd been waiting to enter for six years. He moved his mouth around, carefully choosing a position as so not to upset me, which I smiled at discreetly. He gradually became more forceful and confident, but not too hard and careless. He was enjoying himself, I could tell - his chest was against mine, I could feel his heart beating faster and faster, and I wondered if he could feel my breath coming faster and my heart rate increasing and my rhythm coming to match his. I wondered if he could deduce me...