John was tired; he had gone grocery shopping by himself. Again. Of course Sherlock wouldn't do it, no the great and mighty detective was too important for it. Where was Sherlock anyway? John was worried, Sherlock hadn't replied to any of his text messages. He hadn't come home either, it had been days.
John concentrated on side stepping the pedestrians of London as he approached 221 Baker street. Finally, home at last. John put the bags down, his shoulder was hurting. It usually didn't, but on the last case he had bumped it while chasing after the murderer.
John picked the bags up again and began walking up the stairs. His shoulder was throbbing now, and was giving sharp pangs of pain. John began to walk up the stairs faster, maybe he could reach his room before his shoulder gave out.
But before he even reached the door, his shoulder seized up. He let go of the groceries as he tried to hold on to the railing. But with no luck, he began to fall backwards. John waited for the sickening thud of skull hitting pavement, as the world rushed past him.
He never heard it. Someone had caught him, had saved him. John tried to free himself, but whoever caught him wasn't letting go. John tried a few more times, with no result. He gave up and leaned back, his shoulder still hurting, not as painful as before but still. It was then he noticed the man's long spidery fingers. Sherlock. Sherlock had saved him, again. At least John now knew, that he was safe.
"John, it was rather idiotic of you to go shopping with your shoulder hurting," Sherlock exclaimed as he let him go. Of course, Sherlock would blame him.
"We ran out of milk," was all John said he began picking up the groceries from the ground.
"So? You could have borrowed some from Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said staring disdainfully at John.
"She's not our house keeper, Sherlock! We can't expect her to do everything!" John was angry, stupid Sherlock, stupid cases, and stupid milk!
"You're angry at me" Sherlock remarked quietly.
"No shit, Sherlock! Where were you? I was worried! You can't just go and disappear for days on end and not tell me!" John shouted. Sherlock stared at him, tilting his head sideways.
"I did not think my absence would worry you so," Sherlock said. He had an odd expression on his face. It seemed as if he couldn't decide what he should feel.
"Sherlock, I'm your friend, of course I'm worried. You're always on one of your cases and what if something had happened? What would I do then?" John yelled.
"I...I'm... I'm sorry," Sherlock stammered out. No one had ever worried about Sherlock. Other than Mycroft and Lestrade. But even then, it was out of obligation.
John's face visibly softened. Sherlock, hadn't meant to worry him.
"It's okay, just don't do it again. Please," John replied. Sherlock smiled at him, a quick one barely noticeable. Of course Sherlock would disappear again. He couldn't change his friend that much. He just hoped he would text him, to tell him he was fine.