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John was lying on— no, being shoved onto the sofa, attacked by the eager affection of Sherlock Holmes. He'd barely had a second to take one step inside the flat before this man was all over him, planting kisses on every available surface like his life depended on it.
"Whoa! Excited today, are we?"
"Not quite," Sherlock said in between a kiss to the neck and then the cheek, keeping John trapped below him. Despite his actions, he spoke like he was annoyed, brows furrowed.
"Then, uh," he laughed, "what— or why— I mean, I'm not complaining."
"I care about you," he explained before collapsing his body weight on top of John and resting his cheek against John's.
"I see that, yeah," John replied after he caught his breath.
"More than other people do, that is."
"Is this you trying to be subtle? You know we're a couple."
In just a split second, he saw a terrible sadness fill Sherlock's eyes, immediately replaced by a stoic, uncaring mask.
"Oh." A pause. "I understand," he said in as monotone a voice as he could muster. He looked away, unsure what to do with himself as he began to get up.
"No! No! What?" He shook his head. "Us, you, Sherlock— you and I! We're together! Not me and Mary!"
"Oh," he repeated, and John could practically see him processing what had been said as he sat back on the sofa next to John. "We are?"
"What?"
"What?"
"You were literally just snogging me like a madman two seconds ago! What do you mean, 'we are?'"
"You're frustrated."
"No, I'm confused about what you think is going on here."
"We entered the flat. I kissed you. You let me know that you were already taken, or at least that's what I interpreted. I backed off. You said we're...a couple?"
"We're... Well, yes?" What the fuck? "Okay, what did you think we were?"
"Companions."
"You thought...we were not a couple...and you, like, ambushed me with kisses anyway?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Flirting. On this occasion, in an attempt to dissuade you from pursuing Mary."
A warm laugh burst out of John before he quickly stifled it. "Oh my God, this... Okay, I'm not laughing at you, to be clear."
"You're laughing because—" Sherlock tried to deduce.
"Because I love you, and I love how your mind works."
The sweetest smile he'd ever seen crept onto Sherlock's face along with a blush, an expression John had never seen before. He could feel his heart melting at the sight. Sherlock didn't even seem to realize he was smiling for a few seconds before he wiped it off his face, then John dragged him back down into a hug.
"But you never said we were a couple before. You never took me on a date. You never asked to be my boyfriend," he explained, muffled into John's shoulder.
"Remind me to be a bit more clear the next time I come onto an autistic man," he said with a smile.
"The next time?!" Sherlock cried in the same tone John had heard when someone called the detective's conclusion wrong.
John laughed so hard his stomach cramped.