Jealousy's sister

Sherlock was capable of feeling, no matter what the yard or his brother may say. In fact, Sherlock was infinitely capable of emotion, but he chose to keep it locked away. Sherlock hid it well, in fact it took John about three months before he sensed that Sherlock actually did care about other people, whether the feeling was hatred or enjoyment.

But now Sherlock knew that even he wasn't capable of hiding this emotion. Jealousy.

Jealousy and Sherlock were good friends; she emerged out of nowhere whenever someone talked to John. At first Jealousy intrigued him, but with her recurring appearances, she slowly became Sherlock's worst enemy. She pushed him and pulled his insides, moulding him into the form of a crude human being.

But Sherlock soon stopped resisting. Once Sherlock knew that showing feeling and emotion around John tightened their friendship, Sherlock's well-guarded case full of his many emotions began to crack. Sometimes the lock pick broke, but John was always there with a spare, opening the locks that kept his heart hidden.

Sherlock was also careful not to show weakness to others. Lestrade, Sally, even Anderson's opinions did matter (to an extent), so his walls only crumbled when John was there to witness it.

Sherlock had been surprised to see Jealousy again, but they were old enemies, and all Sherlock had to do was to invite himself on one of John's dates and then the lady left. It was a simple matter of cause-to-effect. Simple, obvious, but never inescapable.

John seemed to have one quality that annoyed Sherlock to no end. Every woman was infatuated with him. He was an average looking person, but after only one drink, he could make you feel like long lost soul mates finally finding one-another. Sherlock only knew this because he had experienced his own reaction to this delightful creature.

And when Sherlock was jealous, he was possessive. He now invited himself to as many dates as John had come up with, not just when the relationship was getting serious. His old self would be reeling with conscious thoughts, looking skillfully through his emotions, before he found the one that fit John. This new Sherlock knew nothing of the sort, he clouded himself in denial, smothered himself in it. He knew if he glimpsed his actual feelings for John, that he would not be able to stop himself.

Sherlock couldn't seem to control himself, and that was something new. That was it, Sherlock had decided to throw himself into his work more than ever before, but he couldn't go through with the most plausible plan. What if John found someone while Sherlock was away with work? Could something form at Tesco while John was dutifully fetching the milk?

But now, now Sherlock was incapable to even lock eyes with his former flatmate in fear of blowing his cover. His cover was for John's safety, if he didn't do this John would die. Sherlock had to be dead, metaphorically, for everything to work out.

Seeing John was a different feeling from jealousy. Sure, she was there too, but she most definitely wasn't the most powerful one here. Envy, Jealousy's sister, was here to visit.

The girl who John was talking to was a nice, plain woman. Her name was Mary, and, as much as he hated to admit it, she was a threat. John needed someone the opposite of him to put him on edge and keep him feeling alive, but when he didn't have that, he just needed someone to lean on. This metaphor was literal now, because the psychosomatic limp had returned soon after the fall.

Most of all, he envied Mary. She was everything he wasn't, and John needed that to get over Sherlock. And even though Sherlock knew that he should want John to be happy, he knew that this was one of the times where he couldn't help but be greedy. Sherlock wanted John, needed John, and this simple-minded woman had what he wanted.

Then Sherlock's train of thought broke. How could he work through this? How would he make the Mary-woman give up on John, the only person he dared call friend? Sherlock's gears kept turning, waiting for an answer to catch. And catch it did.

Another woman, Sherlock concluded. John needed another woman so that he could forget Mary, forget pain, forget everyone else.

Sherlock smirked and spun around, no long coat on his shoulders this time. He took his time walking back to Mycroft's place, and examined the floor plans of any costume rooms. Maybe he could fit into some of "Anthea's" clothing. Their waists were similar, but Sherlock knew it had to be custom fit in order for his chest to count as curves.

Sherlock looked up at the nearest CCTV camera and grinned, a full-out smile this time. He expected the clothes just as they were, gracefully folded at the bottom of his bed.

PLOT BUNNY! And it ended with Sherlock cross-dressing? Wow, how'd that happen?

I never meant for this to come out full onesided!Sherlock, I thought it would be more pre-slash or 'never had a friend before' possessiveness.

I want to continue this, but for now I'll mark it as complete. We'll see how many people like it, I'm pretty bad with multi-chapters, but this would probably end up a two-shot… Again, we'll see.

Please review with whatever came to your mind, whether it be a brit-pick I missed or your strange craving for cheese.