I don't do love chapter one
"I brought the post in," John announced presumably more to himself then to Sherlock, as he never replied to that statement. He heard him toss the letters on the table and walk into the kitchen to boil water for tea.
"You know every now and then a nice 'welcome home John, how's your day been' would be nice."
Sherlock stared at the wall, he was lost in thought as usual and hardly noticed John talking. He was thinking of his latest case, and didn't need to be bothered with such simple things as conversation.
John ignored him until the tea was done, then poured himself a cup.
"Want a cup?" John offered to Sherlock who hadn't moved an inch the entire time.
"Hm? Oh, no I'm fine," he replied when John began to pour him a cup.
John sighed and dumped the few drips of tea he had poured in Sherlock's cup down the sink.
"It's your week to do dishes," John said putting the cup in the sink.
"Mrs. Hudson will do them, why bother assigning us dates?" Sherlock said still staring at the same place on the wall.
"Oh, I don't know, because she's not our maid?" John said sitting in his chair by the lit fireplace. He sipped his tea quietly and stared into the embers.
"Do you still...you know...think about her?" John said without looking at him. How was it Sherlock knew exactly who he went when he said 'her'?
He thought a moment.
"No."
"Really? Like not at all?"
"Why do you care?" Sherlock finally looked at him.
"Well..." John fiddled with his cup, something he does quite frequently, "I just...thought maybe you had the smallest bit of feelings for her. Or did I read you two wrong?"
"Reading people isn't your strong suit, John, I did what I had to do and that's that. Now she's safe in America and I don't have to worry about her." He spoke quickly, returning his gaze to the wall.
He knew John didn't believe him by the look on his face. But it didn't matter, he didn't have to convince him of anything. Let him think what he wants. Irene had been a lying, deceitful, backstabbing, beautiful woman and he did not need her in his life.
Great, now John had forced thoughts of her back into his head when he had finally stopped thinking of her.
"I'm going for a stroll," Sherlock decided.
"It's bloody freezing out there, the snow is really coming down," John said.
"That's why I own a coat," Sherlock said matter of factly and grabbed his long coat and scarf and headed down stairs. He closed the door behind him and pulled his scarf closer to his neck, the wind was bitter cold and the snow was whirling around like he was in a snow globe being shook up continuously.
He began to walk, nowhere in particular. After maybe an hour of walking, he wasn't sure, he had been lost in his mind for a while, he finally looked up and realized he had ended up at the local park. Of course there were no children here now, their mothers would never let them out in this cold. It was quite a pretty sight to see, snow covering the playground equipment and trees, glistening in the light of the falling sun. Something black caught his eye in the distance partially behind a tree. He side stepped, blinking in the heavy wind to make out what the shape was. When he managed to catch a glimpse, perhaps it was his mind playing tricks on him or snow blindness, but he swore he saw her outline. It had to be her it could be no one else. But he closed his eyes as a strong wind blew snow into his face and when he looked again, the figure was gone. He decided to push her from his mind and walk home. As he tromped through the miniature blizzard, he had never been so happy to see the sign on the door that said 221b.
He walked in and took his coat and scarf off, shaking the snow from them, then walked back up the stairs to his apartment and made straight for the warmth of the fire.
"I told you," John said from his bedroom.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and held his numb hands over the fire place.