AN: So, this is a little something I partly found written on paper and partly finished on another piece of paper.

We have a caring Sherlock, a pissed off John and a happy ending, because I'm a sucker for those ;)

Have fun reading, let me know if you liked it or not.

Love,

xxx


It was dark already, only streetlights illuminating the entry of the alleyway that Sherlock was sprinting down. Chasing a mmurderer, he ran after him, every now and then taking another route to shorten his way. John was nowhere to be seen.

As Sherlock caught up with the guy, he quickly grabbed him and headbutted him unconscious.

"Moron" was all he said as he took his phone out of his pocket to dial Lestrade. He kept standing beside the culprit to make sure he wouldn't try running away again.

"Lestrade. I caught him. Come over to pick him up, he's almost as annoying as Anderson." He told him the address as he heard John's voice through the phone.

"Is that Sherlock?" The voice got louder, so John must've grabbed the DI's phone. "Sherlock, what were you thinking?!" Sherlock held the phone a distance away from his ear, so John's yelling was acceptable, but he was also still able to hear what he said.

"Why the fuck did you run off without me or any back-up, ignored my calls and texts, and instead send me in the wrong direction?"

He was silent after John's outburst. He'd never been that angry with him.

"Answer me, you idiot!"

"Back-up wasn't necessary, John. That guy is an imbecile, which made this case hardly challenging in any way. I ignored your calls and messages because I was busy following this idiot, obviously."

John's voice was a tad calmer already as he asked his next question.

"Okay, accepted. But why did you tell me to go in the wrong direction? We're a team, Sherlock. Right?"

Sherlock took a silent breath before answering.

"I didn't need you. He is an imbecile, I was perfectly capable of taking care of him by myself."

It was completely silent at the other end of the line before Sherlock heard a click, indicating that John had hung up.

Sherlock pocketed his phone and waited for Lestrade and his men to arrive.

Just as they did, did Sherlock's phone ring. He gave the culprit to the Yarders before fishing the phone out of his pocket to see a new text.

-What have you done now, brother dear? - MH

He signed before typing out a quick response.

-None of your business, brother dear-

He didn't even bother putting his initials at the end as he usually did; instead he simply pressed 'send' before pocketing it again, walking up the alley to get a cab home.

As the third one drive past him he went to the nearest tube station to get home. He rounded the corner and started cursing as he saw the station closed due to renovation. Sherlock turned back around again and grimly walked down the street, hands in his pockets. He felt his phone vibrate several times, but chose to ignore it. It probably was Mycroft again, wanting to annoy him. In case it was Lestrade, it didn't matter either. He was just going to thank him for doing /their/ work.

And John wasn't going to call him. So whatever it was, it wasn't important. John safe at home, that was important.

So, he walked down the streets, only illuminated by the streetlights, to go home. Home to John. Yes, 221b was a home, but people say "Home is where the heart is", so home is where John is.

It took him a while to assess and accept his affection and adoration for John, but since he knew John didn't want him in that way, he took care of him without him realizing it. It was simple, really: Keep John away from danger.

That was what he'd done today as well. It didn't matter that John was right about him better having called for back-up. This guy wasn't as stupid as he had made John believe. He fiddled with the gun in his pocket. Sherlock was lucky to having surprised him before he was able to shoot him.

Just as he'd finished that thought, he realized he found himself in front of 221b Baker Street.

John would still be furious with him, maybe he should talk to Mrs. Hudson first. She would understand.

So, he fished the keys out of his pocket to unlock the front door before he went knocking timlidy on his landlady's door.

It took almost a minute for the elder woman to answer, but her face lit up immediately as she saw her tenant standing in front of her.

"Sherlock, dear! Come inside, sit down. I'll get you a cup of tea."

As she hurried off as quickly as her hip would allow, the detective did as he was told, sitting down on the sofa in her living room.

"You look bothered, dear. Are you alright?" She came back with two cups of tea, handing one to Sherlock who gladly took it.

"We had a case today, a triple murder. The guy was clever, he was aggressive and violent. I found him and went after him without waiting for John, even sent him somewhere else. He got mad and he still is. But he doesn't understand."

"Of course not, dear. He thinks you didn't want him there. Instead, you throw yourself in the line of fire all alone."

Sherlock put his tea down on the table in front of him. He looked at her as he explained.

"This guy was extremely dangerous and quick. I didn't have time to wait for Lestrade and his men to get ready to go after him."

Mrs. Hudson nodded. "Okay, that makes sense to me and I'm sure John understands as well. But why did you send him away? John wants you to be a team, dear. That means you do things like this together."

"I know, Mrs. Hudson. Really, I do. But..." He sighed, leaning forward. "This is really difficult, Mrs. Hudson, but John... he's so important..." He put a hand on front of his mouth.

"I c't osh 'm."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I didn't catch the last part."

The detective reluctantly removed his hand from his mouth to repeat his sentence so his landlady would understand.

"I can't lose him." He averted his eyes to the floor.

"There we go." She stood up and went over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Tell him that. Tell him how much you care, Sherlock. And you'll be alright." She smiled encouragingly at him as he looked up at her, unsure. Mrs. Hudson nodded once before sitting back down in her chair, sipping her tea.

Sherlock followed her with his gaze until she was seated again, nodding her head in the direction of her door.

He nodded, quickly thanking her for the tea before he went out, hurrying up the stairs.

As he arrived at the door of the flat, he hesitated before opening it. He just hoped John would understand.

Sherlock finally managed to open the door after some time and slowly stepped inside.

"John? John?! Are you there?"

He didn't receive an answer, but he hadn't expected one. So he went further into the flat to search for his flatmate.

"John? I want to talk to you, John."

Suddenly, the smaller man entered the living room, fuming.

"What did you think you were doing, Sherlock?"

"John, I-"

"No, don't you dare 'John' me! Were you even thinking when you went off all by yourself?! Because it clearly seems like you didn't!"

He was pacing relentlessly, throwing his arms in the air, exasperated.

"I was thinking." John stopped in his tracks, looking at Sherlock who's eyes were averted to the floor.

"What?!" The detective'detective's voice went quieter.

"I was thinking."

"Fine. So you were thinking. But only about catching this guy, right? It's not like as if you care!"

"But John-"

"No, Sherlock! Don't lie to me. I know you don't care!" He had gone back to yelling again as he turned to leave. But as he wanted to storm away, he felt long, slender fingers curl around his forearm.

"John..." Sherlock's voice was softer now and John was rooted to the spot. "Look at me." He sounded pleading, but John refused to move. "Please."

Did the world just stop and turn the other way round? Sherlock never said 'please'. Up until now, John had been quite certain that this six-letter-word hadn't been existent in his vocabulary.

He turned to his flatmate, but still refused to look Sherlock in the eyes since the carpet apparently seemed so much more interesting.

"John..." Sherlock placed two fingers beneath the doctor's chin, tilting his head to force him to look at him. "It's not that I don't care about you, John."

"What is it then, Sherlock? Why do you keep pushing me away?" John felt tears well in his eyes. "Why?" It was barely a whisper, but Sherlock heard it nonetheless.

"You don't understand, John. I'm not good with all this." John simply nodded as he let the tears fall freely now. Sherlock wiped them away while he kept talking in that soothing voice.

"It's really not that. It's because I care too much for you, John. I wanted to protect you. I'm sorry if it came out wrong."

He now looked at the consulting detective and started smiling before he hurled at him, his arms around Sherlock's neck and their foreheads against the other's.

"Don't cry... please. John, I just care too much for you."

John's head shot up and he looked at the detective with wide eyes, not believing what his brain provided.

-He loves you!-

"I believe I am capable of emotions, especially concerning you, John. I have never felt like this. Scratch that, I've never felt anything until you came along. How was I supposed to deal with that? But I never wanted you to feel as if I don't care about you, John. It's the exact opposite."

He wiped away the tears that still fell from John's eyes and leaned in to kiss him softly. It was short and sweet and they both smiled as they pulled back.

John didn't really know what to say, so he simply nodded towards the sofa. Sherlock understood and pulled him along as he laid down. He pulled John on top of him, the shorter man's head resting on his chest, so John was able to listen to his heartbeat.

"Crap telly?" Sherlock smiled as John nodded in answer and turned the tv on with his best friend/ lover in his arms.

Not too long after, they'd fallen asleep curled up around each other.


AN: Another quick info:
I have written a New Year's Eve OneShot sometime this year and kept it until this year's NYE, so I'm going to post that one tomorrow.

For now, I'm working on something again. It will most likely be something short.

Okay, that was it :)

Bye