This was written for a prompt on the lj Sherlock kink meme - sorry the ending's a little abrupt!
Note: this is a slashy AU of the end of The Great Game. If you don't like, then don't read!
John had never seen Sherlock so uncontrolled as this.
As soon as the door slammed shut, the detective darted towards John, tugging the jacket and its attached explosives as quickly as he dared. John tried not to flinch as Sherlock's pale fingers worked at the straps holding the explosives against his torso.
After what seemed like a split second, a sudden weight was lifted from John's shoulders as Sherlock finally removed the jacket and flung it across the poolside.
Sherlock hovered beside him, taking light steps from one side to the other. His dark eyes, usually so calm and unreadable, were wild now. "John, are you alright?"
John forced himself to breathe again, running one hand over his chest as if to reassure himself that he was out of immediate danger. The pause was too long for Sherlock, who grasped John's shoulders roughly and spun the shorter man around to face him. "John, answer me!" He snapped, his face inches from John's. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," John finally replied quietly. His mouth felt dry; absentmindedly he licked his lips in an attempt to moisten them. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Sherlock stared at him, then let out a deep sigh of relief. "Oh thank god."
And then, without warning, Sherlock closed the gap between them.
There wasn't even time for John to register what was happening. All he knew was that Sherlock was kissing him - cold, unemotive, asexual Sherlock - and John was kissing him back as if his life depended on it, his hands instinctively clutching at the lapels of Sherlock's coat.
After what could only have been a few seconds, but felt like a eternity, Sherlock leaned back. "I thought I'd lose you," he whispered, resting his forehead against John's so that John could see the tears glistening at the corner of the detective's closed eyes. "You mean so much to me."
John smiled; a small, soft smile. "Really? I thought you didn't care for anyone."
Sherlock kissed John's forehead, his lips warm as his hands slid down from John's shoulders until he was holding John's hips tightly, pulling their bodies closer together. "You thought wrong."
John shivered, his body tingling. "Sherlock..."
"I want you, John," Sherlock whispered, opening his eyes and holding John's gaze. "I want you like nothing else."
John stared back at him, trying to rationally figure out what was happening, what his friend was telling him. Then he gave up.
"You could have said so before!" He shouted as he threw his arms around Sherlock, kissing him again. Sherlock nearly fell backwards, but John could tell he was grinning from the shape Sherlock's mouth was making against his.
Sherlock gripped John's waist tighter, driving him against the nearby wall and pinning him there as John intwined his fingers in Sherlock's curly hair, pulling him even closer.
"Excuse me, chaps!"
The two of them froze. Still clutching each other close, they slowly turned their heads to see Moriarty standing opposite them; the consulting criminal grinned widely while bouncing on the soles of his feet.
"So," Moriarty purred. "Turns out the two best friends are in love. How nice."
Love. John instinctively hugged Sherlock tighter.
"John," Sherlock muttered, removing his hand from John's waist and resting it on John's arm - where several dots of red light were currently swirling into position.
Moriarty cocked his head to one side, grinning as he shrugged. "Yeah, it's touching stuff, but I'm still gonna kill ya."