It was easy for Sherlock to chart the various emotions that read on John's face, first trepidation and worry and disappointment, then just for a moment as he spoke, there was nothing. And finally, the hope that bloomed behind those eyes.

Sherlock wished that he could bottle it up and save it forever. Having a hallowed spot in his Mind Palace would have to do, though.

His posture relaxed a bit, when John brought his hands to his face, he leaned down and kissed John back eagerly. He pressed forward, inviting, but not too forceful.

This, he thought, now this, I could die at this moment and I would be perfectly content because I know how I feel about this man, even if I can't say those little words, not yet. I know it's true, and I know that he feels the same. He show me physically the words that neither of us dare to speak.