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"Sherlock- have you seen my cardigan anyway?" as I finished that sentence I didn't need an answer, my eyes which were casually searching the room fell upon where it was residing. It was there, on him, draped over him, he was wearing it. Why was he wearing my cardigan?
"Sherlock, why are you wearing it?" A wave of the hand.
"cold."
It's all I've been getting recently. Hand gestures, one word replies, brushing off any comment or question I ask him. It's not out of the ordinary for him to be using my belongings; my laptop, phone, but still... my clothes? This was something new, my mind started to think of the reasons. No, he can't... he wouldn't, couldn't, could he?
I shrug the thought off almost the instant it entered my mind. He's Sherlock - married to his work. It's not out of character either, would be nice once in a while for him to ask, but I shrug it off, almost as easily as he brushes me off, and get on with the day.
"Tea, john make me tea." So caught up I my own thoughts, I jump. Sherlock's' voice sounds so loud, so deep, so... lovely. It fills the room. He barely speaks to me all week, and the first time in three days, he demands tea. I'm tempted for only a moment to deny his request, but as usual I make him his tea, after all I'm only going to make myself one. Its good manners right? He hasn't eaten, all that I've seen anyway, so it probably isn't wise to deny this request.
It's an odd sight seeing him like this, I know better, but I would swear when he's alone he lets his emotions get to him, there's a moment of emotion in his eyes, for a fraction of a second as he looks up at me with that smile. God that smile... but that emotion, i couldn't quite place it, lonlieness? No. Sherlock could never feel lonely could he? Longing? For who... I must have been mistaken, after all- I do know better. He's my best friend, my roommate. So why does that look play on my mind?
"John. Really that cup of tea would be amazing right now" lost in thought he startles me, again. Crossing the room I started to come back to reality and pushed that thought to the back of my mind, passing him the cup our hands accidentally brush, usually something I would overlook it wouldn't bother me at all, it was nothing, but this time... a small shiver went through my arm. I looked up at him but he was already backing into his work. God i hope he didn't notice that, he would surely deduce something from that. What was going on? It was probably nothing, a coincidental chill, but then Sherlock would have felt it as well, but if it wasn't a chill, would he have felt it as well?
"I'm going out, I'll be back late. There'll be milk tomorrow." Slowly turning around, since in the time he had said this he was already across the room with his jacket on, I caught him putting that scarf on, a quick smile and a bye, and he was gone. Probably for the best, surely these thoughts were from a lack of sleep, it was the only reasonable explanation. I mean, it's Sherlock, I don't actually feel like that. It's impossible.
"I think I need to sleep, yes. Sleep." With a nod I said to myself. Lying down on the sofa I slowly drifted off to sleep, but that gentle split second brush and that smile was the last thing I saw flash before my eyes, before I finally drifted off to sleep.