A/N: Hey, everyone! Just recently got this idea. I'll have you know that the reason I haven't been as active on here lately is because I'm participating in Camp NaNoWriMo. I'm writing a Star Wars fanfiction, which you can find out more about on my profile. #endadvertisement ;)

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from BBC's Sherlock. Which is everyone in this fic. So there.

Don't You Dare

John suppressed a smile at his friend's stretched out form on the sofa. "Nothing to do, Sherlock?" He walked into the kitchen and set down the grocery bags.

Sherlock lifted his head from his face-down position long enough to mumble, "Bored." then let his face fall back down into the pillow.

"How was Sussex?" John started unpacking the bags.

Sherlock sighed and halfway sat up. "Boring. It was so dull I could have killed myself."

A bang from the kitchen caused Sherlock to sit up all the way as he started at John who had just slammed the jug of milk down on the counter. John didn't face him, but his shoulders were tense and he throttled the neck of the milk jug.

"John?" Sherlock asked, wondering what his problem was.

John turned to face him and Sherlock immediately noted his flushed face and clenched fists. "Don't you dare ever say that again," John growled through clenched teeth. "Don't you dare."

Sherlock blinked. "Say what?"

"That you could have killed yourself!" John's voice rose. "Because that is not a joking matter."

Sherlock stared but for the life of him couldn't figure out what John's problem was. "Why?"

John lifted a hand to his forehead momentarily then brought it down in an angry swipe. "Remember the last time you killed yourself, Sherlock?" He demanded, his voice bitter. "Or did you delete it? Remember when you made me watch you jump off a building? Remember the three years you let everyone think you were dead? Well, I do. So don't you dare say that ever again." John whirled around and rushed into his room and slammed the door, leaving a shocked Sherlock to stare at the closed door.

ONE WEEK LATER

John opened the fridge and looked in, then closed it in surprise. He blinked, then opened it and looked in again.

Sure enough, a full jug of milk sat on the fridge shelf.

John closed the door and turned to Sherlock who sat at the table peering into his microscope. "Sherlock."

Sherlock grunted.

"There's milk in the fridge."

Sherlock didn't look up. "So?"

"And I didn't buy it."

"Mrs. Hudson must have."

John shook his head. "She's at her sister's for the weekend."

Sherlock said nothing, and changed slides on his microscope.

John stared at his flatmate, searching his memory to figure out what he'd done. There was only one reason Sherlock ever bought the milk, and that was to apologize.

John thought back over the past couple says. Sure, Sherlock had been, well, Sherlock, but he hadn't done anything bad enough by Sherlock standards to necessitate buying the milk. Or maybe it was something John hadn't discovered yet...

And then he knew. A week ago, when Sherlock had made his offhand, callous remark about killing himself and John had yelled at him and stormed off. Sherlock hadn't said anything about the incident, and John had figured he'd deleted it and hadn't thought of it again.

"Thank you," John said quietly.

Sherlock said nothing for a minute, then looked up, and to John's surprise, he could read the apology in his friend's eyes.

"Sorry I blew up like that," John said.

Sherlock shrugged.

Neither of them said anything for a moment that rapidly grew awkward. Finally, John cleared his throat. "You didn't by any chance buy any jam, too?" he asked. "We're almost out."

The smallest of smirks tugged at the corner of Sherlock's mouth. "No."

John pretended to sigh, but smiled.

Sherlock looked back at his microscope. "And don't expect me to anytime soon. There is too much stupidity at the store."

John laughed and went to pour himself a glass of milk.

Finis