four-letter word
Funny, she thought, how she kept finding herself outside John's door. Even worse was the number of times she had come here, raised her fist to knock-and then decided against it, turned, and gone back home. It was completely ridiculous. She had to stop. Shoshanna had to tell him. She unwound her arms from where they were crossed over her chest, like she'd been binding herself against doing this, and very purposefully knocked.
There was a moment's pause, and then familiar footsteps, before the door slid open and John's face peeked through. She watched the smile break out on his face.
"Shoshanna." There was a hint of confusion, but it didn't seem...unpleasant. He seemed to catch the look on her face: serious. She was on a mission. "Is anything the matter."
She shook her head, giving him a don't-be-silly look. "I need to talk to you." She tried to ignore the apprehensive look on John's face, and strode past him and into the room. "Shut the door," she instructed, before seating herself at his desk.
Shoshanna loved looking at John's desk. It was so characteristic of him, covered in papers and little vials of herbs and rudimentary healing paraphernalia. She knew he would have liked more updated equipment, but he was doing admirably with what he'd been given. She didn't speak for a long moment, studying a little bottle of what appeared to be lemongrass. John waited patiently near the door, knowing that, as always, she would speak when she was ready.
Finally, she set down the bottle with a sigh. She turned her face to John, but didn't make eye contact. "There is something I have been meaning to tell you, John. For awhile now." Ever since the day he'd told her what had happened between himself and Sherlock, and they had toyed with discussing their feelings for each other. Since then, it seemed the urge to just tell him had been growing stronger with each passing day. It was frustrating. She couldn't concentrate on work, and she was finding it difficult to stomach meals.
Shoshanna hazarded a glance at his face, and her stomach clenched. "What is it?" he asked, sounding a tad anxious now. She rose, moving back to him, and took both his hands in hers. Strong hands, capable. She l-she adored these hands. Sharp green eyes studied them for a moment, before finally meeting his.
"Whatever you do, John," she began slowly, "don't take this the wrong way." He waited silently for her to continue, and after a moment's pause, she did.
"The thing is," she ventured. "I-"
Her stomach felt like ice.
"I..."
What if she was wrong? What if she had misread him?
Finally, she forced it out. "I love you."
There was a long moment's pause, during which Shoshanna was sure her heart was about to be smashed into pieces. Then she felt fingertips lifting her chin upward. Her eyes remained lowered for a brief second, before she hazarded a look upward. He was smiling. The ice in her stomach melted, and she pressed her lips to his.
Why was love so damn difficult?