Disclaimer: I own no part of the Sherlock universe, BBC or otherwise. I make no money from my craft, just try to write things that people might enjoy.
I hate this
John looks at his phone when the message arrives and then glares at me before replying.
They're your friends, too
I make a very quiet sound of disapproval of the terminology which he only hears because he's right beside me.
And whose fault is that?
He snorts out a quiet laugh before discreetly patting my left leg beneath the table in consolation. The touch sends an unfamiliar sensation of warmth to my chest and I feel compelled to cover his hand with mine but fight it. Ridiculous.
"More wine, Sherlock?" John offers me with a sly smile as his hand moves from my leg.
"Please," I reply with an overwhelming amount of false pleasantry, putting on a show of good-will for our guests – friends – that we're hosting for the apparently traditional Christmas gathering. I'd much rather be curled up in my chair, lost in my Mind Palace as John watches crap telly in front of the fire and no one else to bother us.
"More wine, Claire?" John offers his newest girlfriend whom he of course had to invite along with Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and Molly.
Every year it's always the same group – and by every year I mean the three times we've done this – Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, John's Current Girlfriend/Wife, John, and me.
"No, thanks," she tries to smile, but she gives me a subtle glare because John asked me first.
When he hands my glass back to me I make sure that our hands touch in the exchange - merely to prove that I can, that John will allow me to. He blushes slightly at the touch but doesn't rush to remove his hand and I hide my triumphant smirk behind the rim of my glass as I take a drink, locking eyes with Claire challengingly.
Before she storms out of the flat at the end of the night, the last of the guests to leave, she yells directly to me: "You can have him!"
Neither John nor I are surprised by the proceedings except for her choice of parting words. I can have him? Like she thinks it's just that easy – as though she's the one who has the power to give him to me?
For one thing, while I came to terms with my feelings a while ago (most notably when he got married and the feelings of fear and jealousy nearly drowned me), he is the only person I consider to be a friend, and I can't stomach the idea that I could lose him by trying to change what we have.
For a second thing, John is simply not interested in me in that way. And why would he be? It's one thing to work and live with me, but something completely different to share literally everything for the rest of our lives. And if it can't be the rest of our lives, that surely would ruin our friendship and we're back to me losing him by trying to change our dynamic.
John has been staring intently at the closed door since Claire left a minute previous, a look of confusion on his face. He turns to me with a questioning gaze – not that he wants to ask me anything, but that he's trying to figure something out.
The crease between his eyes nearly draws me to him as I long to ease my thumb over it to smooth it out.
I clench my jaw, angry that my desire to touch him in even the smallest of ways is growing stronger every day. I breathe deep, loud, in and out and then move to my room, closing the door on John and his sudden, ill-advised attempt to understand me.