Shwatsonlock- More

John Watson found himself in his usual place, reading the paper- like always-, sipping coffee with no sugar- as he was accustomed to do-, but something felt like the day would be far from normal. Of course, living with Sherlock Holmes meant that normalcy was in itself strange and rare. These suspicions were confirmed when Sherlock staggered through the door, his face grazed badly, clothes torn and limping slightly. Upon seeing the consulting detective collapse onto the couch, John leapt to his feet, dropping the paper he'd been reading.

"Sherlock?!"
"Mm?"
"Wh-what happened?!"
"Calm down, John. It was nothing."

Sherlock sat up, but the pressure of the arm of the couch against his side made him wince and cry out in pain, which caused John to snap into action. He retrieved his medical kit and immediately knelt before Sherlock and began cleansing the wounds on his face. Every time he winced, John felt a stab of pain too.

After a little time had passed, Sherlock broke the silence.
"You don't have to do this."
"I'm a doctor," said John simply. "It's what I do."
"So?"
"So, I'm your friend."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are you my friend?"

This left John quite stumped. He'd never really thought over why he was friends with Sherlock Holmes, and now he did, he found he had no answers.

"Does it really matter?"
"John, I don't have friends. It matters."
"I wonder why."
"You don't understand, John. Never in my life has anyone shown me… affection. All I want to know is why this changes now."
"…I don't quite know," John began, then quickly added, "Sherlock, why are you asking this all of a sudden?"
"Because I don't understand."
"…Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me something?"
"Please, John. Just answer me this. Why do you care for me so much?"
"Because I'm your friend." John replied automatically.
"Ah. O…Okay." Sherlock frowned, cold eyes darting back and forth fretfully. John finished patching up Sherlock's face.
"Any other… injuries I can help you with?"
"Just the one. I-I fell on my side, see. I think it's just a bruise, though, so-"
"Show me."
"No, it's fine."
"Sherlock, I'm a doctor."
"Quite true."
"So, show me."

Sherlock sighed and unbuttoned his crumpled ruby shirt to reveal a beautifully blossoming bruise along his left arm and the side of his torso. John drew a sharp breath at the sight.

"John."
"Yes?"
"You care… because you're my friend?"
"Yes." A moment passed, then John added, "Is-is there a problem with that?"
Sherlock frowned, then spoke. "Yes."
"Then, I guess I can leave, o-or-"
"No. Don't do that."
"But, you said-"
"I know what I said. I said I had a problem with you being my 'friend', not that I wanted you to leave."
"So… Where does that leave us?"
"…More."

Without further hesitation, Sherlock pushed away the doctor's gentle hands, then took his face in his own, bringing John's mouth to his.