The Enigma
John was mad. No, that was an understatement. He was furious. Standing in the living room of Baker Street, glaring at Sherlock's back, he had to grip the back of his chair to gain control of his emotions.
"How could you be so careless?" John asked, trying hard to keep the angry tone out of his voice.
Sherlock leaned down and picked up his violin. "Really, John? I'm not the careless one," Sherlock said in a calm tone that began to make John's blood boil. "I'm the one who caught a murderer tonight."
"You ignorant twat! You could have gotten shot! You could have.." John shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
"What?" Sherlock asked, but John is sure he already knew the answer, using his knowledge to irritate him.
"Died, Sherlock! You could have died!" John shouted. "Why do you never wait? You always go off on your own!"
"I was hardly in danger," Sherlock spat, whipping around to face John and angrily placing his violin on a chair.
"Not in.." John repeated, running a hand through his hair. "You had a gun to your head, for god's sake!"
"How does that concern you?"
"Jesus christ...Sod this." John turned away, heading to retrieve his coat.
"See what sentiment does to your mind?" Sherlock inquired, following behind John. "You're acting like an idiot."
"I care, Sherlock. And if that makes me an idiot, fine, but at least I'm not.."
Sherlock grabbed John by the arm forcing him to turn around. His eyes bore into John's trying to read the answer. "What? A freak?"
John looked away from Sherlock's scrutiny, regretting his choice of words. Regretting this conversation, actually. "No. Emotionless. A machine."
John met Sherlock eyes once more in time to see a flicker of what looked like pain, but it was gone as soon as it came. "You're just realizing that now?"
"I just...It's like you have a death wish," John stated, internally shivering at his own words. "I care about you and I don't want anything to happen to you. Even if you don't care about yourself."
Sherlock tightened his grip on John's arm causing the man to try and flinch away, but his hold was too strong. "Ugh! Why is it always 'care about this' and 'care about that'! Why can't you just leave me alone and stop giving a bloody fuck!"
John was momentarily shocked by Sherlock's choice of words. The man rarely cursed and when he did it was used to describe other's intellect.
"I can't do that."
Sherlock sighed exaggeratedly. "Can't do what?"
John cleared his throat and looked away once again. "I can't stop caring about you."
"Why?" Sherlock asked, a perplexed look overtaking his dark eyes.
"No. I'm not doing this right now," John stated, gently pushing Sherlock's hand off his arm and grabbing his coat.
"John-" Sherlock started, but John was already walking out the door.