I made my way quietly into John's room, stepping softly to try and avoid waking the sleeping man. I had been planning this for weeks. It was his birthday today and I had been told by his sister that I should do something for him. Apparently that is what friends do. I considered John to be one of my only friends and I hoped he felt the same. I opened the door, lifting it slightly to avoid any noises, and entered the room. John was sprawled out across his bed, one of his feet hanging off the side. He always looked so relaxed when he slept, all the stress he carried around fading away and leaving him looking younger and happier. I like seeing him like this. I watch him for a few moments more before moving to his closet, rooting through until I found the gift I had tucked into the breast of one of his suits. I hid it there a while back, knowing he wouldn't look there. I quietly snuck back out of the room and made my way to the kitchen, sitting at the table and placing the gift in front of me.

I was nervous about giving him this. I had no idea why though, it is merely a present. It was hard shopping for him, harder than I thought. No matter how well I knew him, trying to buy him something that would make him smile proved harder than buying him something I knew he needed. I heard shuffling upstairs; John was awake, right on time as always. I hid the present under the paper that I knew John would pick up and scurried into the living room. I plopped into my chair and slipped into my mind palace, opening the room I had designated for John. It was a big room, where I placed every fact and detail I had about John. I shuffled through the room, touching trinkets and reading files, once again studying every fact I had stored away about my flatmate. There was a box in the centre of the room; I had labeled it "Pandora's Box." Inside it was the one thing I didn't know about John, that one secret that he kept hidden better than anything. Hidden in the glances I couldn't read, in the cryptic words we sometimes shared.

"Sherlock, for god's sake will you pay attention?" I was shocked out of my mind palace by the harshness in John's voice. How long had I been ignoring him? I felt a pang of guilt in my stomach as I shook my head and glanced at the man sitting across from me. He looked frustrated, but there was something buried beneath the emotion. Something I couldn't place, so I tucked it away in the box.

"Yes, sorry John. I was-"

"I know where you were Sherlock." He snapped. I raised my eyebrows and tried not to let it show how much his tone was hurting me. I must have failed because his expression changed, guilt taking over. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, calming himself before looking at me again. "What is this?" He held up the present and my stomach knotted.

"It's a present."

"Well I can see that. Why was it under my paper?"

"Well I wanted to make sure you found it."

"So it's for me?" There was confusion in his voice. I smiled softly, maintaining eye contact with my friend.

"But of course John." He hesitated, looking down at the gift in his hands then back at me.

"Why would you buy me a gift?"

"Because it is your birthday and I have been informed that it is customary for friends to buy one another gifts on their day of birth."

"Who told you that?"

"Harry."

"Of course she bloody did." He laughed, rubbing his hands along his face and through his hair. He licked his lips and caught my eyes again, this time with a light hearted smile on his face. "Sherlock you didn't have to buy me a gift." He picked up the gift from his lap and ran his hands over the plain brown paper I had wrapped it in.

"I know. But I did so you might as well open it." I tried to sound careless, nonchalant. I waved my hands and stood, picking up my violin and started playing aimlessly. I heard paper being ripped open as I played and I tried to stop my hands from shaking. The room went silent after a moment and I knew he had opened the gift. Fear gripped my heart.

"Sherlock," His voice was wavering and sounded rougher than usual. I stopped playing and set my violin down on the chair beside me. I heard him stand and walk closer to me. "Sherlock, where did you get this?"

"I contacted some people and asked the right questions."

"This was my-" His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "My grandfather's-"

"It's your Grandfather's purple heart." I turned and looked at the shorter man before me, shock filling me as I saw the emotion on his face. "The medal you should have won." I whispered my last few words, gauging his reaction. He lifted the old medal out of the box and studied it, tears filling his dark eyes. He breathed deeply and straightened, looking at me with more emotion than I thought possible.

"I don't deserve this Sherlock." My heart hurt at those words. He honestly believed that he was less than a hero in my eyes. I didn't care that the government didn't think he deserved a medal. In my eyes he earned it. I walked closer to him, keeping my eyes fixed on his.

"You deserve so much more than that, Dr. Watson. You are the bravest man I have ever had the good fortune of knowing."

"But I am not a hero." I stopped before my friend, trying to contain the emotion that was filling my own heart.

"You, Dr. Watson, are more than a hero to me." I whispered, lowering my voice to try and stop it from shaking. We stood like that for a moment, both trying desperately to not feel. He broke the stillness by wrapping his arms around me and pulling me in for a tight hug. The action surprised me and I froze. Soon enough I broke from my state of shock and wrapped my arms around my blogger, returning the hug. We stood like that for a while, holding each other. I liked this, feeling him in my arms, his warm, solid frame pressed against mine. It ended too soon though, John pulling away and wiping his eyes.

"Thank you, Sherlock. I couldn't have asked for a better present." He smiled up at me, something in his eyes I hadn't seen before. I placed that image in the box.

"You're welcome, love." I froze as the words left my mouth, feeling the cold fingers of horror grip my heart. John also froze, his eyes widening at the word that left my mouth.

"I-I"

"Did you-?"

"John I-"

"Did you just call me 'love'?" I backed away, trying to put distance between me and John, but I tripped on my chair. I fell into the seat and hid my face, trying to compose myself. He stood before me, watching me fumble with my emotions. My cheeks burned bright red and my heart raced. "Sherlock, did you just call me 'love'?" I nodded, keeping my face hidden from my friend. I heard him move and felt a soft hand resting on my knee. I looked down to see him kneeling before me, hand rested on my knee. He watched me with careful eyes. He must hate me now.

"I am sorry John. It slipped. I have no idea where that came from, I swear." I started babbling, trying to find the words to make it right. I couldn't lose John, not again. John pressed a finger against my lips, shushing me. There was concern in his eyes. I was mortified.

"Sherlock, breathe for a moment ok? You are about to have a panic attack." There was concern in his voice, causing me to take stock of my body. I was on the verge of hyperventilating, my hands shaking and pulse racing. He was right, I was panicking. I forced myself to breathe deep, closing my eyes and willing the fear away. The minutes passed slowly, crawling as I composed myself. "There," John whispered once the shaking had subsided. "That's better. Now, you called me 'love'." I felt the panic returning but I steadied myself. I didn't want to have this conversation, but it looked like there was no way out of it.

"Yes I did."

"Why?"

"I told you, it slipped."

"Don't lie to me, Sherlock. Not about this."

"Not about what?"

"About-" He cleared his throat, shifting his hand so it rested higher on my leg. That was distracting. "About your feelings," He shifted again, hand resting farther up my thigh.

"What makes you so sure I was lying?"

"You told me."

"How did I tell you?"

"You said it slipped. You only ever let the truth slip. The truths you don't think people should know." I was impressed, his deductive skills were growing.

"Tell me then, Dr. Watson, what truth did I let slip?" I wanted to see how much he knew. I leaned forward so my face was centimeters from his. "Impress me." I deepened my voice, registering the shiver that appeared to run along his spine. He smirked and scanned his eyes along my face, as though he were trying to gauge my reaction. Suddenly, he shot forward, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to mine. I froze in shock as fire sparked between us. He pulled back slightly, his breath quickening.

"Well, that was-"

"I'm sorry, John." I whispered, not really sure why I said it. He reached up and cupped my face, a soft gesture, but full of an emotion I was unfamiliar with. Into the box this moment went.

"Don't be sorry Sherlock." He whispered, brushing his fingers softly over my cheekbones. "I understand."

"What?" Hope filled my heart as I registered his words.

"I understand Sherlock."

"Understand what John?" As the words left my mouth he pulled me in for another kiss, this one deeper than the last. As I allowed my body to react to the kiss, John's room from my mind palace sprung forward. The box was open, all the signs and missed signals pouring out. It all made sense now, he had feelings for me. I smiled into the kiss and wound my arms around my blogger, deepening the kiss. We pulled away to breathe after a short time, pressing our foreheads together and smiling. We started giggling, laughing like a pair of schoolkids.

"Happy birthday, my dear Watson." He pulled me in for another kiss, this one filled with something more than emotion. We spent the remainder of the day in each other's arms.

n