Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters…obviously -.-
WARNING: IF YOU DON'T LIKE YAOI, THEN I SUGGEST YOU GO ELSEWHERE :)
Author's note:
Hey Guys! God, it's been so long since I last wrote anything c: I'm not going to lie though, I am lazy as hell and I was on writer's block, so it was hard for me to start writing again -.o This time, however, I will update more frequently, so you guys won't have to wait so long ! Enough of my life problems! On with the story, enjoy! :D
Sherlock paced around anxiously in the waiting room. The hospital walls had a soft and cool light-blue color with a never-ending pattern that continued all the way through the corner before it disappeared from view onto the next hall. Chairs were aligned to the wall and a small table with magazines and newspapers was placed beside Sherlock's chair, which held the detective's coat .
A nurse had tried approaching him before but he just brushed her off and continued with his desperate, incoherent mumbling. Several minutes passed until a door opened and from inside emerged an elderly man with a clipboard in hand, the doctor, Sherlock supposed. After him, John followed, listening to the man's comments. The doctor gave John a folded page from the clipboard and shook his hand before waving Sherlock and him goodbye and going back inside the room.
"What happened?"
"Well, everything seems to be fine, I'm not sick or anything there's no infection, the doctor says I may just have eaten something that upset my stomach and that's it. Other than that I'm all right." John rubbed the back of his neck tiredly and glanced up at Sherlock, whom was watching him suspiciously.
The army doctor rolled his eyes and smiled.
"Come on, we still have to go shopping." He took his jacket from Sherlock and started walking down the hall towards the exit.
"I can't, I have more important things to do," Sherlock followed behind putting on his coat before exiting and catching up to John.
"Yes, and one of those things is coming with me to buy groceries. The last time you came was about 3 months ago and you know I can't stand that bloody self-check out machine."
Out the door, water poured over the passing cars and people ran from place to place, shielding from the heavy rain. John held his arm out and stopped a taxi then motioned for Sherlock to get inside. The other man hesitated but followed John inside the cab.
The streets outside blurred as they passed. John really liked these moments of silence when he could just relax and think about random stuff he had to do or buy, when was the rent money due anyway? He kept his eyes fixed out the window, when he suddenly felt a weight leaning on his arm and shoulder.
"Sherlock?"
The detective had his eyes closed and didn't reply.
"Sherlock, what are you doing?" He shifted so that his head was resting on the back rest of the seat.
"You woke me up too early this morning."
"And is it my fault that you're playing the violin at three in the morning?" John sighed and rested his chin on his hand.
"Sleep is boring." Sherlock said calmly, never opening his eyes to look at John.
"And what are you doing now?"
"I'm not asleep."
Both stayed like that for the rest of the ride. When the cab came to a stop, Sherlock was fast asleep on John's lap.
"Sherlock? Come on we're here." John shook him to wake him up, but the detective remained sleeping.
"For God's sakes, please take him to 221b Baker Street and wake him up when you get there." John paid the cab driver and closed the door, then watched the car leave.
Sherlock smirked and sat up.
John opened the door and closed it with his foot, then carried the grocery bags to the kitchen. Everything was the same of how it was before they left that morning to the hospital. Maybe Sherlock fell asleep as soon as he got home?
Pfft! 'Important things to do' Of course..
He sat down on his chair and turned on the TV. John looked at the television but wasn't really watching it, yet he felt the need to leave it on to fill in the silence of the flat. Some minutes later, steps came from John's room. John stood up and walked to the bottom of the stairs.
"Is that you Sherlock?" He narrowed his eyes to adjust them to the darkness and recognized the tall figure that came down the stairs.
"When was the last time you cleaned up here?"
"Uh, last week, why? Wait, what were you doing up there?"
John noticed Sherlock held something behind his back but decided not to ask, it was probably one of his strange experiments. Even after so long, he could not get used to find body parts everywhere around the kitchen.
"Did you buy milk?"
"Yes, but you didn't answ-"
"Have you eaten yet?"
John stared at him and gave up.
"No, I haven't."
"Well then you should eat, you've spent the last few days vomiting and going to the bathroom. You need the energy." Sherlock smirked and walked past him, then entered their room.
What are you implying? John thought and made his way to the kitchen. There was a plate on the table with some silverware neatly placed to the sides and a wine glass to the right. On the opposite side of the table, both a plate and silverware sat as well. On the chair were some books and Sherlock's skull was to eye-level of whoever sat opposite to it.
"What in the heavens were you doing? Having dinner with the skull?" John asked under his breath and grabbed the kettle to make some tea.
Moments later Sherlock emerged from the room and quickly went to the kitchen to put away the dishes on the table. John looked at him curiously but didn't say anything. After he was done, Sherlock walked into the living room and took a seat in his chair.
"Did you take the medicine?"
"Uh, yea. Actually I feel all better now."
Sherlock only smiled and picked up his violin.
Sherlock woke up to the bathroom door being slammed and sighed. He got up from the bed and knocked on the door softly.
"John?"
Some minutes later, John emerged from the bathroom.
"I don't know why this is happening, Sherlock. Yesterday I felt perfectly fine." John rubbed the back of his head tiredly.
"..You remind me of a… Never mind." Sherlock said and walked away.
"Wait, what where you going to say?" John followed after him to the kitchen but didn't get a response, as expected, from the detective. "Has Lestrade said anything about a new case for you?"
"That's unusual for you to say."
"Well, it's unusual for you to not complain about needing a new case and being bored all the time. And I noticed you go out by yourself more than usual."
Sherlock stayed quiet. John sighed and began making breakfast.
This was starting to bother John a bit. It was, after all, normal for the consulting detective to leave without telling anybody, but he mostly told John where he went, if he left by himself. Now, even Sherlock's phone was off limits to John. As soon as the phone rang with a text, Sherlock almost flew to it before John could get it for him.
At first John didn't mind it, but after two weeks, it gave him some weird feeling and made him uneasy. He had tried approaching Sherlock about it but didn't have any success. He decided to just leave it for now, but Sherlock was going to listen to him as soon as things got more out of hand.
"I'm going out."
John snapped out of his thoughts when Sherlock emerged from the room fully clothed and hands in his coat pockets.
When the hell did he get changed?
"Where are you going?"
"Lestrade."
"Uh, alright. Are you coming late?"
"Not sure."
"Okay."
John turned back to his breakfast and heard the door close. He moved to the living room and turned on his laptop. He hadn't written anything on his blog in days and he still did not have anything interesting to write. After some minutes of staring at the screen, John decided he would go out too.
He put the laptop away, got changed, grabbed his keys and walked out the door, shutting it closed after him.
Have I told you guys that I love and hate cliffhangers at the same time? :)
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