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God, he needed a cigarette. Why the hell did he agree to give up smoking? Idiotic decisions like that one really needed to be more thought out. Maybe he'd cheat and buy a pack on his way back to the flat. If he hid them before John returned, then he wouldn't have to see the disappointment in John's eyes.
John. The reason for this ridiculous exercise and the cause of his need for one of his usual vices was seated tables away, tucked in the corner and seated across from an attractive woman. They were chatting happily, John's entire face lit up as they shared a starter and sipped wine. One glance at his date told Sherlock everything he needed to know; teacher, eldest child of two, maybe three children, it was hard to tell at that distance. He couldn't find anything terribly off putting about her, no secret husband, no hints of drug abuse. She was incredibly…safe. Not the word Sherlock would usually describe the company John Watson liked to keep.
He wanted John to be happy, he really, truly did. There was no reason why John shouldn't meet someone and settle down, have a family. If this is what John wanted then Sherlock would want it for him too, because that's what friends did, wasn't it? Sherlock was very new to the friendship thing, but that was a concept he'd managed to grasp early on. Friends wanted the best for each other.
Seeing John with his date stirred up an uncomfortable feeling in Sherlock, which he immediately attributed to this new woman being completely and utterly wrong for John. Not that John was aware of this, apparently, because he kept smiling and flirting and teasingly stealing food off of her plate while she giggled and chased his hand with her fork. It was all rather sickening and Sherlock made a resolve there and then to make sure a case occupied their attention for the next two weeks, to keep John from making another date with her. Just because John couldn't see the train wreck that a relationship with this woman was destined to be, didn't mean Sherlock was going to let him go through that. That was all this was, a need to protect his friend. And if this happened to venture dangerously into that caring thing Sherlock attempted to avoid, well he was just going to ignore that.
John glanced around the room, eyes sliding right over the table Sherlock sat at, before turning and flashing another smile at the teacher. Sherlock didn't expect John to notice him, why would he? He'd been assured repeatedly that Sherlock never followed him on his dates and even if he didn't believe that, tonight Sherlock was a ginger businessman, a three piece suit in place of his usual shirt and jacket. As if Sherlock was going to let John go anywhere on his own after Moriarty had grabbed him. Sherlock would not go through the fear of seeing John wired to explode ever again.
Dinner was followed by a walk, a short one given the cold weather, and Sherlock kept his distance. Blaming either the cold or his intense desire for any form of nicotine, Sherlock's mind began to wonder through memories of his time spent with John. Nothing had been deleted, not the way he took his coffee, nor the smell of his soap that lingered through the flat after he'd had a shower. Not the way he laughed, nor the way he looked at Sherlock like he was the most amazing person John had ever met. Everything was there, too precious to even go near his mental waste basket. He ran through them now, like scenes on a projector screen.
The amazement on John's face and in his voice at their first crime scene together, the first time in a very long time that Sherlock hadn't felt like a freak. John was very good at that, making Sherlock feel…not normal, his mind recoiled at the thought, but, that who he was and what he could do was actually…cool. Not that Sherlock cared about any of that because he didn't, he didn't. But, maybe, just this once, just with John, he could allow himself to feel that way.
Giggling after John had shot the cabbie with the two pills. Sherlock did not giggle and attributed that moment to the adrenaline, but John looked so happy, so alive and even Mycroft couldn't completely ruin the moment by showing up. Belatedly, Sherlock remembered thinking he might be in over his head with the whole friend thing, terrified he'd blow it somehow, before reminding himself that he didn't care one way or the other. If John got his little feelings hurt by something Sherlock said, he'd thought at the time, then it was John's fault for putting himself in the line of fire. And it still wouldn't matter, because people didn't matter, the work did. Anything else was just illusion.
All of that was completely blown to shit when Sherlock saw John at the swimming pool. The instant feeling of betrayal, followed by an immediate sense of relief coupled with terror at the sight of the explosives beneath the coat. Sherlock hardly ever actually got scared, but in that moment he was afraid, and not for himself. He was terrified about losing the one person in his life that actually mattered. The only one who ever would matter. And in that moment everything had become unbelievably clear.
And then John threw his arms around Moriarty and yelled for Sherlock to run and Sherlock was hit with another revelation. Sherlock was dangerous. He knew this of course but it had never made a difference to him. But now it was different, someone mattered, and Sherlock wasn't about to watch that person continuously throw put their life in danger for him. Despite his moment of clarity, nothing could ever move forward between them. That was if John was even keen, which Sherlock suspected he was, just a little shove in the right direction was all he'd need to get there.
But Sherlock was a selfish human being. He couldn't let John go, not completely, even with the knowledge that his best friend was constantly in danger of dying. But there'd always been that risk, he reminded himself, and John was still there, still chasing down the bad guys with him. The only consolation Sherlock had was that one day John would find someone and move on, have the life he deserved. And he wouldn't stand in the way of that, because after putting up with Sherlock's obnoxious behavior and having his life frequently threatened John was entitled to it, even if watching it happen would rip Sherlock's seemingly nonexistent heart out.
Not that it'd show. Sherlock had perfected the art of concealing his feelings. Still that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt.
The walk was over, and John was dropping his date off at her flat, placing a kiss on her cheek. Hidden in the shadows, Sherlock watched John bounced back down the steps and flag down a cab, a smile still plastered to his face. Sherlock turned away as the cab drove off, pathetically trying to pass off the horrible feeling in his stomach as something other than jealousy.
He was definitely buying cigarettes on the way home.