These will be unrelated one shots in the lives of Sherlock and John. If you have request feel free to message me.
This is the first one shot of the collection. I hope you will enjoy reading it!
John Watson was having a bad day. No, wait, it was way past being a bad day. Everybody had bad days. You would call it a bad day just because you missed the bus or if they were out of something you needed at the local store. People tended to use the phrase "bad day" a bit too much for John's liking, because what did you then call a day like this? A day where you just wanted to let the ground swallow you or go to bed and stay there for eternity, what did you call a day like that?
The week had been a bad one as well. Sarah had been angry with him yesterday when he had called off their date to race across the city with Sherlock, chasing criminals. She had been crying over the phone, and he hadn't known what to say to make her feel better. Why couldn't she just dump him already? According to her he was awful at being a boyfriend anyway. He actually wished that she would dump him. He was tired of her and the obligations that came with their relationship. She would get mad at him for spending time with Sherlock (his bloody roommate!) and had warned him often of Sherlock and his 'dangerous' games. John had only snorted at this.
But the worst part of this day, was the woman currently residing in their apartment. Irene Adler, The Woman, was once again back in their lives. She hung around Sherlock constantly, batting her pretty eyelashes and speaking in a secretive voice. It irritated John. Who did she think she was? The weird part about it was that Sherlock didn't seem to mind, which annoyed John even more. Did Sherlock enjoy the company of that vixen of a woman? John could not comprehend the thought. After all, Sherlock had told him that he was married to his work, but it could have been his own weird way of letting John know that he did not stand a chance with him, even though John had only been trying to make small talk? The thought hurt, but he didn't know why. Was he jealous of Sherlock? Was John actually pining for The Woman? No, he most certainly was not! Then why did he feel the need to hit something, or someone, every time he saw them together?
"John?" a voice said, and John was shaken from his thoughts. It was Sarah.
"Oh, hey" John said tiredly, barely lifting his head from where it had been resting on his desk.
"You won't believe what happened to me today!" she exclaimed, with a giggle. She seemed to have forgotten all about their quarrel the day before, something John was glad for. He did not know if he could take another row.
"What happened?" John asked, not really paying attention.
"Well, I was in the cafeteria when this patient from earlier came over to say hello," she began, her voice almost smug, obviously expecting some kind of reaction "and he asked me out, can you believe it?"
"Oh, how nice."
"Nice?" Sarah said, her voice shaking with disbelief.
"Cute, kind, whatever" John said with a yawn. He really was not in the mood for this. "I'm going to get some coffee, I'll just-"
"Sit your arse down you prick!"
John quickly sat back in his chair at sound of Sarah's shrill and desperate voice. Great, another rant about him not being a good boyfriend.
"Sarah, I'm really not in the mood for this, can we fight some other time, maybe?"
"No, you will sit back, and don't you dare interrupt me." Sarah said calmly, though she looked absolutely furious. "You are so frustrating John, you know that? I mean how you pretend to love me, but really you're just filling some need you have to be a good guy!"
"Where the fuck is this coming from? What do you want from me Sarah?"
"I want you to care! I kissed Anderson at the Christmas party and you just shrugged your shoulders. He rubs it in your face constantly, and still you get a good night's sleep! What do I have to do? Oh, I know, maybe what I should do is to get flirty with Irene Adler, because that seems to be something that sets you into a blind rage! Oh, but wait, that won't work either because I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"
John had had enough now. "I don't need this shit" he said, raising from his seat and walking away.
"We are through!" Sarah yelled after him.
Like he cared.
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Sherlock was resting on the couch, being bored out of his mind, when he heard the front door open and then being slammed shut. He assumed it was John. Of course it was John, when had Sherlock ever been wrong about kinds of things? He expected John to enter the living room and say something about the mess that had been made or something about Sherlock's little mishap in the kitchen (to put thumbs in the microwave had seemed like a good idea at the time), but he only heard his friend stomping noisily up the stairs and into his bedroom.
That was weird. John was never like this. He always made his presence known, and he never ignored Sherlock, even though Sherlock constantly ignored him. Sherlock didn't have enough to make a proper deduction; he hadn't seen the man since yesterday. Maybe John was ill or something. After all, they had been out in pretty bad weather yesterday evening. Still, that didn't explain why he wouldn't at least say hello or something, he couldn't be that ill. Or could he?
Before Sherlock knew what was happening he was sprinting up the stairs and into John's bedroom. John was on his bed, just staring up at the ceiling. Sherlock thought John looked ill, he was white as a sheet. Still, there was something very appealing and welcoming about him, something Sherlock could not quite put his finger on. But then again, what was not to like about John?
"John?" he said gently, and the older man looked at him, finally realising that he was not alone.
"Hey," he said, not turning to face the detective.
"You alright?"
John just sighed in response.
"Did something happen?" Sherlock asked softly, approaching the bed. Normally he would have tried to deduce it, but he did not think John was in the mood to listen to his deductions right now. No matter how accurate they were.
"Bad day, that's all," John said, gesturing for Sherlock to sit on the bed "plus, Sarah broke up with me."
John did not seem to notice the little glint in Sherlock's eyes.
"That's her loss" Sherlock said, lying down next to John. To John's surprise Sherlock took his hand in his, and squeezed it comfortingly. They did not speak for a while, they just enjoyed the silence and the comfort.
Sherlock did not want to ask about the break-up, because it was very clear that John did not wish to talk about it. If there were one person whose wishes Sherlock at least tried to respect, it was John's. John was special. John was wonderful. John deserved respect.
"Thank you" John said after a while, finally managing a small smile "Where is The Woman, by the way, Irene Adler I mean?"
"Oh, she's gone." Sherlock said absentmindedly, still holding John's hand.
"Why? You two seemed to be getting along fairly well?"
"We were, but I asked her to leave because she started getting on my nerves, always nagging me about my-" Sherlock stopped midsentence, looking somewhat flustered.
"About your...?" enquired John, slightly taken aback by the blush creeping up Sherlock's cheeks.
"Oh, not important, in fact I think I deleted it."
If he had been talking to anyone else, John would have found that comment extremely weird. Was it actually possible to delete things, or was it just Sherlock's way of avoiding the topic? He was not in the mood to play detective, so he just let it slide. After all, he did not have any wish to talk about The Woman, and how amazing she was.
"Okay, then. Do you regret asking her to leave?"
"No, why should I? She was getting on my nerves. Besides, that woman is more than capable of looking after herself." Sherlock snorted, looking indifferent. Then he smirked at John "We are going out tonight, you and I, to take your mind off Sarah. How does that sound?"
"What is wrong with you?" John blurted out, startling Sherlock.
"Huh?"
"Sometimes you are so good with me." John said, looking fondly at Sherlock. "I know people say that you treat me poorly, and that I'm just some slave to you, but I know that's not true. You could've figured out my bad mood by deducing it, you would've been able to, but you didn't, because you knew that I wasn't in the mood for it. You didn't ask me details about my break-up because you sensed that it wasn't something that I wanted to talk about. Don't think that I don't notice all the little things you do to make me happy."
"Well, I-" Sherlock began.
"I'm not finished." John said, calmly, but Sherlock shut his mouth quickly. "As I was saying; you are so good to me, but I want to know what's wrong with you. You are so good to me, so why is it that you can't be this good with someone you have feelings for? What happened to you, Sherlock?"
Sherlock froze, and his eyes lingered on John for some seconds. What was he supposed to say? There were many things he wanted to say, but he knew there was no point. Why even go there? It could only lead to disaster. So he decided to take the easy way out, by being ignorant or spectacularly ignorant as John liked to call him.
"Maybe I've deleted that too?" Sherlock chuckled, but John just frowned. However, he did not push the topic any further. That was one of the many wonderful things about John. He was never pushy, he was always patient and understanding, and Sherlock was well aware that this was a quality he lacked himself.
He then let go of John's hand and rose from the bed. "Be ready for dinner at 7:00" he said with a wink and headed out the door. If he kept his cool now, he could almost make himself believe that he did not feel anything but friendship for John.
But Sherlock was a terrible liar, or at least when he tried to lie to himself.