a/n: and i ship johnlock so much
Sherlock Holmes likes many things. He does not like many people. He tolerates DI no-first-name Lestrade, he can just barely stand to be within a hundred metres of Anderson ( idiocy is catching, really ) and the rest of the world can go to hell as far as he's concerned.
Well, apart from John. John is a completely contrary human being whose classification in the grand Sherlockian order is somewhere between "tolerable" and "friend". And on Sherlock's worst nights, he's a close friend who the former needs like he once needed cocaine. There's something about John Watson that can't help but attract Sherlock, and it's rather terrifying.
You see, Sherlock is a self-sustaining ecosystem. All the better for when humanity dies out and he's the only sentient being left. It also has the bonus of making sure no-one wants to be near him. It's like the perfect paradox: Sherlock doesn't like humans, turns into a sociopath, humans don't like Sherlock, everyone is content.
Except he's not content. Not now, especially not with John being his bloody friend when all of a sudden he wants more. Even worse? He has zilch idea of how to go about making John feel the same way. But don't ask him that because Sherlock Holmes never admits that he's clueless. Ever.
So there. Life goes on at 221B Baker Street, Mycroft is repulsive, Lestrade provides cases, Mrs Hudson denies she's their housekeeper but does the work anyway and John - infuriating John who never does what he's told - is oblivious.
So maybe Sherlock doesn't like human beings and has a perfectly good reason to.
And maybe he's also a childish idiot who can't say the words "I like you" straight to John's face like those things he deduces about everyone and their great-aunt's cat on a daily basis.
(on the plus side, obsessing over his flatmate does mean that that he's less snipey. you can thank cupid now, world.)