Sorry its short.
There wasn't any particular inspiration for this, it was just an idea that came to me so I wrote it.
Sorry for any mistakes.
Sherlock had done everything that he could think of to test John's loyalty. He'd purposely been unbearable. He'd played his violin in that strangled-cat way into the early hours of the morning when he knew that the ex-army medic was struggling to sleep and absolutely worn out. He'd gone on a rampage around the flat. He'd smashed things, purposely ruined things that John owned. He'd picked at this and that. He'd deduced the worst things about John and spoke them to his face. He'd insulted him. Mocked him. He'd made John's first week a living hell and still, every night, the man simply took a deep breath, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before announcing that he was going to bed with the comment that he hoped Sherlock was feeling better in the morning.
Now here he was. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, his hands on the arms, fingers splayed across the material. His head was bowed and only the top of his hair was visible from where John was standing on the stairs from his bedroom. Sherlock was confused. He couldn't figure it out. He had purposely been the worst flatmate, the worst person he could possibly be and still, John was sticking around. It didn't make any sense.
"Alright?" John's voice rang out in the quiet room as he spoke the question by way of greeting. He stepped from the staircase, clearly intending to make his way through the sitting room and into the kitchen, most likely to make himself and Sherlock a cup of tea. When Sherlock raised his head, however, John stopped. There was a childlike innocence in his expression when he looked up and he seemed to be, dare John think it, scared. The corners of Sherlock's mouth were turned down into a pout and John was fairly certain that Sherlock's bottom lip was trembling. Pulling his chair closer to Sherlock, he sat down, waiting for him to speak.
"Why?" Sherlock questioned, his voice raising in pitch slightly. Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together as he swallowed. "Why do you do it?" He elaborated, taking in John's confused expression.
"Do what?" John questioned softly, trying to figure out what he would do should Sherlock actually start to cry. John's head was tilted to the side slightly as he observed Sherlock.
"Stay." Sherlock supplied with a frustrated ruffle of his curls. "Why do you stay? Why would you want to stay with me?" Sherlock questioned in a way that made John want to hunt down anyone who had hurt this man and tear them apartment limb by limb.
"I like you." John punctuated the statement with a shrug. "I see you as a friend, Sherlock."
"A friend?" Sherlock questioned in disbelief, shaking his head a little at the notion, as though he couldn't quite get his genius brain around it.
"Yes, Sherlock." John nodded. "A friend. I want to spend time with you. I want to stay with you." He assured him, refraining from taking his now trembling hand in a bid to comfort him.
"B-but," Sherlock stammered, "I've been so rude." Sherlock noted, his composure clearly slipping as he replayed every bad thing he had done to John and to John's belongings during the week. "I've been so inconsiderate." He spat the word as his hand raised up to his curls, a tear sliding down his pale cheek.
"Because you're scared." John informed him. "Of course you are." John stated at the watery glare his friend sent him. "You're here in a new flat with a new flatmate. And I am fully aware that you were expecting me to grow tired of you, to get annoyed and leave and to save yourself the pain you were trying to hurry that process along before you became attached." John noted. "But I'm not leaving you." He promised.
Sherlock timidly raised his eyes, initiating the eye contact he had broken during John's mini-speech. He looked John over for any telltale signs that John was lying to him. Instead he received a look of sincerity and a sympathetic one-sided smile.
"Now, please," John reached into his pocket, producing a handkerchief and handing it to Sherlock, watching as he wiped his eyes, "stop crying. You're worrying over nothing." John stood, double checking that his friend was okay before brewing some tea for them both.
Sorry if Sherlock seems a little out of character.
Thank you for reading.
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