A/N Heya! I has another Sherlock fic! As usual, yes, I have a bunch of stories already that I should work on, but while I'm waiting for ideas to pop up, I may as well keep myself entertained. =D

So, one of my many interests is different phobias, and I like putting characters in a situation where one crops up. So, this is really a short-story "what if?" series of Sherlock or John having different phobias. They don't have all the ones I mentioned accumulating, it's just different scenarios (because I'm cruel to characters :) ), but I will list the ones they have in the current chapter at the beginning (that are mentioned).

Some may have de-aged, sick, or hurt Sherlock and/or John. The same phobia may be mentioned twice with a different character as the receiver, some may be implied in the show, and I'll probably have flashbacks/backstories/other-forms-of-showing-reason for a good deal of them, though some may just be irrational.

Oh, by the way, none of these are meant to be slash, but some can probably be read like that if you want.

This will be labeled as complete, unless I'm working on a two/three-shot for it, because it's really a collection of completed stories. If I'm actually done, I'll let you know. ;)

Hope you enjoy! I'll take suggestions, but nothing above T, and no slash. Better yet, no pairings all together (at least, not in-depth). Mainly 'cause I suck at romance.

Disclaimer: Negative. Don't own.

Chapter info:

Phobia: Acrophobia- Fear of heights. (No, not meant to be a reference to S2 E3. In this chapter, that hasn't happened yet.)

Phobic: Sherlock.

Italics= thoughts.

Warnings: None really.

Rating: K+

Genre: Comfort and Friendship.

Place in series: Unimportant, as nothing's mentioned. I guess, if you're desperate for a placement, after The Great Game and long before the Reichenbach Fall. Happy? ;)

Sherlock's POV:

"Come on, John!" I yelled behind me, still easily keeping up with the suspect (criminal) we were chasing across the rooftops.

I dodged a bullet (literally) and let out a laugh. The thrill of the chase! How ordinary people can live without this is beyond me.

Not that anyone has to know that, I thought, jumping over another gap and looking back again to see John not that far behind.

Looking forward again, I grinned, admittedly a bit maliciously. We had finally met the dead end I had known was coming for quite a while.

I approached the suspect calmly. Quite in contrast to his frantic scrambling and desperate- needless to say failed- attempts to climb the wall of the taller building in front of us.

"You do realize you're trapped, right?" I said.

The man whipped out a (fake) gun, his eyes wild.

I laughed.

"Really? I think I know a real gun when I see one."

More desperate than ever, the man flung the "gun" down the gap between the buildings and flung himself at me with a deranged scream.

Amateurs.

The guy was pinned within seconds and very little effort, handcuffed moments later when John came with them.

Soon enough, Lestrade was leading the criminal away, and I wandered to the edge of the roof- which for some reason had a railing on it- before Donovan could start bugging me with her ridiculous taunts. Especially the extremely repetitive "Freak" remark.

Leaning over the railing slightly, I let a rare grin slip, and it only grew when John walked up beside me, placing his crossed arms on the railing.

But it started to fall away as the adrenaline wore off and my breathing gradually grew heavier, my hands gripping the railing so hard my knuckles went white.

After about thirty seconds, it all escalated. And of course, the rest kicked in; I started shaking and nearly sunk down to my knees. My mind started to fog up, making it slightly hard to think, and the ground below me seemed to get farther away and spin.

Nonono, not now, please not now. Need to get down need to get down need to get down-

"Well, that went well, don't you think Sherlock? Sherlock?" John said. Despite the fact that I knew John was right next to me, no matter how many times I told myself that, it was hard to convince myself he wasn't shouting through a tunnel from a fair half-mile away by this point.

My hands somehow clenched the railing tighter and I started shaking harder, finally sinking to my knees slowly, my eyes still fixed on the sidewalk below me.

I yelped as I felt a hand on my arm and whipped my head around only to see John crouched down, looking at me, concerned.

"Sherlock, are you ok?" He asked, still gripping my arm.

I swallowed thickly. "John-" I choked out.

John's dark eyes widened and I saw my reflection in them; face panic-stricken and even paler than usual, dark, curly hair sticking out all over from the chase, pale mint-green eyes wild.

I looked like a mad man.

But at the moment, I couldn't care less.

I just wanted to get out of there.

And I knew John would help me... If I could get him to understand the problem.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" He asked slowly, calmly, the undercurrent of worry nearly undetectable as he started rubbing my arm comfortingly.

I swallowed again and tried to speak, getting out a few coherent words. "John, help... too high... get down..." I glanced back to the ground for effect.

I immediately seized up, starting to shake again, breathing speeding up, the world starting to spin in front of my eyes and there's a fairly good chance I whimpered a little.

I clenched my eyes shut. Should've thought that one through a bit more...

Seeing as my brain was fogging up even more, it's a bit of a surprise I could feel John's hand moving to my back and rubbing circles on it. Even more a surprise I could hear what he was saying, even if it sounded like it was from the other side of a tunnel again.

"Come'n, Sherlock, you're ok. Just breathe, you'll be fine, just keep breathing."

"Can't." I managed through clenched teeth.

"Ok, ok, just do what I do, Sherlock. Just copy me."

Suddenly, I felt my right hand being pried from the railing and placed on someone's- John's- chest.

"See? Breathe in, now out." John said, deliberately taking deep and slow breaths.

I copied him, and finally, my breathing started to even out.

When I was a good ways away from hyperventilating, I opened my eyes a little, quickly averting my gaze to John, who now looked a little relieved.

"Come on, let's get down from here." He said, helping me up and putting both hands on my shoulders, making me look him in the eyes.

I nodded rapidly. "Yes, please," I replied softly.

John smiled gently and we found the way down, his arm around my shoulder the whole time.

When John and I finally got down to the sidewalk, I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and hailed a cab, getting into it as fast as possible and saying, "221B Baker Street."

As the cabbie started driving, I looked away from John, embarrassed; but not quite enough to shrug off his arm.

"Erm... sorry about that, John." I said.

"Huh?" John asked, startled. "Oh... oh, it was no problem! But what was that about? You've been on the roof like that several times, and you've never reacted like that."

"The adrenaline wore off." I replied shortly.

"Still, you could've told me you had acrophobia."

I shrugged. "Forgot momentarily. That hasn't happened in years!"

"Oh."

There was an awkward pause. Then: "When did it start? If you don't mind me asking."

I sighed. "It started when I was about eight-years-old and Mycroft decided that forcing me to try bungy-jumping was a 'brilliant idea.'"

"Yeah, that'd do it."

More silence.

"If you tell anyone I'm scared of heights-"

"You're secret's safe with me, Sherlock." John interrupted.

I grinned at him. "Thanks John."

-
A/N Yeah, not the best ending, but it's late, I wanted to finish, and I'm horrible at endings.

Hope you liked it, though!

And yes, I'm aware of the glaringly obvious OOCness on Sherlock's part, but phobias will make you do weird things.

I have a small list of other phobias to do, but if there's a specific one you wanna see, just review or PM and I'll do my best!

'Till next time, people!