Summary: Sherlock acts like all the harsh things people say to him don't hurt, but they do. And John and Mrs. Hudson can see it plain as day.
A/N: So, I'm officially Sherlocked, I watched the whole show in like two days xD Anyways, this story is something I just randomly thought up. Isn't supposed to be Johnlock, but it could be if you wanted to look at it that way.
Disclaimer: The TV show Sherlock and its characters belong to BBC.
"Thanks again for your help, Sherlock. I don't think we'd have solved that case as quickly without you," Lestrade says.
"I don't think you'd have solved it all without me," Sherlock remarks. John elbows him in the side. Sherlock sighs and rolls his eyes.
"But, that obvious fact aside, it's no problem," he adds. Lestrade chuckles, knowing that's about the best response he's going to get. He waves goodbye to the duo as they leave Scotland Yard, and of course, only John waves back. On his way back to his office he sees Sally getting off the elevator with her purse.
"Have a good night, Sergeant Donovan," he says to her.
"You too sir," she replies, smiling as she pushes open the door. John and Sherlock are standing on the sidewalk talking, as there seems to be no taxi in sight so far. Of course, it is quite late. And John seems to be the only one exhausted by today's work. He only half listens as Sherlock talks animatedly about their latest solved case.
"Oh, I do love a good locked-room mystery, especially when it involves serial murders," he's saying when Sally walks by them on the way to her car. She scoffs and turns around to address him, disdain evident on her face.
"You really do get off on this stuff, don't you? I always knew you were a psycho,"
"Sociopath," he cuts in. She ignores him and continues her criticism.
"One of these days it's not gonna be enough, is it? One day there'll be a murder and behind it all will be the one and only Sherlock Holmes," she turns her glare onto John.
"And you, still running around after him I see. I told you to get away from him while you can. Otherwise, you might end up his victim," she says before he can get a word in. She gives one last hateful look at Sherlock.
"Freak," she sneers and storms away. John's about to go after her and give her a piece of his mind when he notices Sherlock's hands clenched at his sides. He looks up at his face and he sees the hurt present on it briefly before he takes a breath and his usual bored look is back.
"Sherlock, are you okay?" he asks tentatively, resting a hand on his arm. At that moment, a taxi finally turns the corner and Sherlock is flagging it down, conveniently avoiding the question.
"221B Baker Street," Sherlock says to the cabbie as the two climb in. Most of the ride back is filled with silence. Sherlock is staring out the window, but it doesn't look like he's seeing anything. John can see that he's retreated into his mind the way that he does when he's shielding himself from his own emotions.
"Sherlock," John says. Either Sherlock doesn't hear him, or he's deliberately ignoring him. He's sure it's the former.
"Sherlock," he repeats, squeezing the other man's arm in hopes to get his attention.
"We're here," Sherlock finally says, and sure enough the cab pulls to a stop outside their flat. Sherlock pays the cabbie and gets out. John follows him and once he gets the door open, Sherlock nearly bolts up the stairs to the flat and into his room, door slamming behind him without another word.
"Oh dear, what seems to be the problem?" Mrs. Hudson says as John enters the room.
"Someone said something to him that wasn't very nice," he explains.
"That sounds like an understatement," she replies, casting a concerned look to the door of Sherlock's bedroom.
"Yeah. I haven't seen him like this before. He always brushes it off and acts like he doesn't care, but he does. I'm going to talk to him," he says, heading down the hallway and knocking on the door. Expectantly, he receives no response.
"Sherlock, open the door," he calls and again gets nothing in response. Mrs. Hudson makes her way down the hallway.
"Sherlock dear, please let us in. We just want to talk," she says. Silence.
"Alright, if you won't talk to us or open the door, then just listen," John says. There's no protest from the other side, so he keeps talking.
"Sergeant Donavan's wrong you know. What she said wasn't right," he says.
"Of course it wasn't. She called me a psychopath, when I'm clearly not. She must get her information from Anderson," Sherlock's voice floats through the door. John sighs.
"You know that's not what I mean," he says. He doesn't get a reply to that.
"You're not as good at appearing emotionless as you think you are. Every time she calls you that name I can see that it hurts you and showing that doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're human. And Sherlock, let me tell you, you are and never will be in any way, shape, or form, a freak," John says. He thinks that he can hear movement on the other side of the door.
"Sherlock, when I first met you, I thought you were a bit…odd. And after all this time I've spent with you, I still think you're odd, but you know what? As many times as you did something out of the ordinary, I never thought of you as a freak," he continues. The lock on the door releases and it creaks open just the slightest bit.
"You really mean that?" Sherlock says, voice quieter than John's ever heard it.
"Of course. In fact, you're the most brilliant, amazing, extraordinary person I've ever met, and I haven't ever regretted one second I've spent with you," he assures him. Through the small space the door created, John can see that Sherlock is actually blushing, which is definitely a first.
"No one's ever said that to you, have they?" he asks. Sherlock shakes his head.
"Oh, come here you," John says, pushing the door open the rest of the way and pulling his friend into a hug. Mrs. Hudson, who John had sort of forgotten was there, pats Sherlock on the back, smiles and walks away, leaving the two of them alone. Sherlock's arms come up to return the hug and John almost misses the words murmured into his ear.
"Thank you,"