Chapter 1: Denial
(John's POV)
John sat silently, typing up a post on his blog, he and Sherlock had recently solved a strange case, and John thought it was worthy enough to be put onto his page. He looked up and saw Sherlock sat comfortably in his chair flicking through the newspaper to see if he could find anything worth investigating, Sherlock looked up and saw John looking at him. "Can't keep your eyes off of me, can you? Not even for a second." Sherlock smirked. John felt himself going red and turned his attention back to his laptop. "You're an utter cock, you know that, don't you Sherlock?" John joked. Sherlock let out a reserved sigh, "I know, but you wouldn't like it any other way, would you? It'd be too dull without me". John once again looked at Sherlock and realised that he was right, he took a moment to remember his life before he met Sherlock. He recalled how useless he had felt, he yearned for action, he had never been the same after the war, he always wanted to feel the adrenalin rush which he had gotten whilst fighting. Solving cases with Sherlock, chasing serial killers and murderers, it gave the rush that he so urgently craved. He felt like he had a strange connection with Sherlock, but he never told Sherlock this, he was too embarrassed of how he would react, he remembered when he asked Sherlock to be his best man, he recalled how Sherlock had just gone into some state of shock.
John had recently divorced Mary, the emotional stress she had caused him had just torn him apart. They both agreed that it would just be easier for them to break it off, but there was another reason John couldn't continue the relationship. He had feelings for somebody else, but he refused to accept them, these newly found feelings confused and scared the fuck out of him. John snapped back to reality and realised he was crying, luke warm tears poured down his cheeks. Sherlock sat up, concerned. "John, what is it? What's wrong?". John wiped the tears away with the sleeve of his jumper but they kept falling anyway, he shrugged at Sherlock and mumbled "Nothing". Sherlock rushed over to John and looked down at him through pitiful eyes, "You can tell me, John, I may be an utter cock sometimes, but I'm not the mocking type." John looked up at Sherlock, "I'm still trying to get over Mary" he lied, he looked down at the floor. Sherlock nodded but he didn't want to pry so he didn't say anything more. Sherlock returned to his chair but continued to look at John, John collected himself and went back to typing.
John knew deep down that he liked Sherlock more than he should, he remembered how many times Sherlock had saved his life. Although he wanted to punch that smug face of his sometimes, Sherlock was the reason that John had seen Mary for who she truly was. The thought of being married to that woman made him feel uneasy and he was sure he was going to throw up. John sprinted to the bathroom and locked the door behind him, the feeling remained in the pit of his stomach but he was unable to be sick. Then he thought about how he felt around Sherlock, the uneasy feeling was replaced by butterflies. He shook his head, feeling stupid. He was a grown man not a teenage school girl. He refused to let these feelings change his day to day life, even if he did admit his feelings, he doubted Sherlock would feel the same way. John unlocked the bathroom door and walked back into living room, Sherlock raised his eyebrows questioningly, John simply shrugged and said "Felt sick". Sherlock nodded and went back to reading the newspaper whilst John went back to his laptop and starting tapping away at the keyboard. "Found anything interesting?" John asked without looking up. "No, all of them are so simple and boring, either I'm getting smarter or the police force are getting stupider. I need one which is interesting and complicated." Sherlock replied, bitterly. John laughed, "Okay, I'll go to the shops in a moment and get more newspapers, I need some fresh air anyway". Sherlock smiled and simply said "Okay".