The next few days were nothing but a painful display of awkwardness as neither detective nor doctor knew what to do, let alone say, to their flat mate. At first, they tried to simply ignore each other, but they kept glancing over their shoulders to see if the other was looking at them. They attempted to go on with life as usual, but the same problem arose and both men found themselves staring longingly at the other's face (or other various body parts). John could feel the tension and need building between them and knew Sherlock could too. It wasn't until a bleak Monday evening that the soldier uttered the first word of his well-thought out speech. He cleared his throat thoroughly. "So."
"We pretend it never happened, that's what we do." Sherlock said, placidly, not looking up from the bow he was rosining.
"Wh-what? I thought we could try to-"
"Make this work? No. I don't think it will."
"Well it certainly wasn't working before! You can't keep me boxed up on a shelf! I've gotta have a social life! I'm not like you who can just sit in a stuffy flat with no one but a fucking SKULL to talk to all day!" As soon as the words came out if his mouth he wanted to suck them back in like a spaghetti noodle. "Sherlock I'm so-" *BANG* Sherlock's bedroom door slammed shut and the whole place shook, causing the skull to roll from the mantelpiece and rest near John's shoe.
"FUCK! FUCKING FUCK! SHIT THAT'S JUST GREAT." John was pacing in front of Sherlock's door, debating wether he should drown or burn himself to death. He had half a mind to burst into Sherlock's room, grab a lighter and let Sherlock watch him die in a heap of flames to show his shame and sorrow. "You know what? Lets go with our first instinct shall we?" And he opened the door to find Sherlock lying on his bed, face down as something slick and red oozed from beneath him. "OH CHRIST NO!" John hurled himself over the threshold and flipped the man he truly loved over onto his back. Before John could inspect Sherlock, the taller man had closed the space between them and there was only bliss. All too soon John broke away, panting and ripped Sherlock's blood-soaked robe off to find a quite muscular albeit unscathed alabaster chest. Without thinking, John ran his hand over his lover's breastbone and sighed in relief that this man was not dead.
"I'm so sorry." Sherlock whispered into John's ear after nipping the shell.
"No it's my fault. I shouldn't have ever said that. I don't care about a social life. I just need you." John let himself fall onto Sherlock and rested his head under Sherlock's chin. "But why did you do it?"he asked, his voice muffled as he spoke into Sherlock's neck.
"I needed you to understand that this isn't the kind of thing we talk about. It just needs to happen on its own. I find that's when we're best together. When it just happens. I knew you would try to orchestrate it, and I thought this would be better." He sighed and watched John rise and fall with his breaths.
"You thought pretending to kill yourself AGAIN would help our relationship? You nearly gave me heart attack!" The soldier lifted his head to peer incredulously into the taller man's face.
"Yes but I knew you'd already figured out what you were going to say and predicted my responses. You'd even planned where you would sit. This way I could show you that we need each other and that it doesn't happen like that."
"Yeah well that's all swell, but couldn't you just tell me that next time?"
"But see the problem with that is you would understand it too much to fully realize. This way I actually triggered your fight or flight response and-"
"Sherlock, lets not get all sciency. I understand why you did it I just don't like when you pretend to die. "
"Clearly." He replied, petting the sandy hair before him.
"I love you Sherlock." John said.
"I love you too." And they fell asleep.
