Disclaimer: I do not have any affiliation with the BBC and do not own Sherlock, if I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction, I'd be living with Sherlock and John in their spare room.
I fell in love with Sherlock when it first came out and have been reading other people's fan fiction on it ever since because there is no possible way I can wait until Autumn for the new series without having a substitute. This is my first Sherlock fic, with more to follow. Hopefully.
This short one-shot is based around a couple of seconds in 'The Blind Banker' where Sherlock actually shows some emotion
Sometimes it hurts.
He didn't want to be doing this, he didn't want to be sitting, he didn't want to be having to concentrate on mundane things, and he certainly didn't want to be having to make 'polite' conversation with Sebastian, and listening to him put him down in front of John. He wanted to be working on the damn case, he wouldn't be here if the case hadn't seemed intriguing, goodness knows he didn't owe Sebastian any favours, he didn't owe anybody favours, except for Mycroft (unfortunately), perhaps Lestrade (who wouldn't request one because he was too intimidated by Sherlock's vastly superior intellect) and John, who Sherlock didn't really mind owing a favour too, although he did wish that John would regard him as a friend, it had hurt when he had corrected him, saying he was a 'colleague', but not as much as it hurt now. He knew nobody at Cambridge had liked him, he didn't need to be liked, he didn't need friends, not anyone there anyway, they were all so DULL, but for Sebastian to say he hated him, to John, that hurt. His eyes widened by a fraction, and then he turned his head away, and averted his eyes from Sebastian's mocking smile. This was why he hated feelings, because no matter how protected you thought you were, sometimes it hurts.