Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh and steepled his fingers in front of his face. He glared at the computer screen, a deep vertical line forming in between his eyebrows. "John," he called lazily, not bothering to look up from the computer.
Muffled footsteps above him on the second floor. Thumping down the stairs, irritated mumbling. Doctor John Watson popped his head into the living room. "Yes, Sherlock?" he said with mock politeness. Sherlock glanced in his direction. From behind the door, he could make out a book in John's hand. Passing time before his "date" with that surgery girl… What was her name? Sandra? Sally?
"Did you need anything," John snapped, dropping the fake friendliness, "or did you just call me so that you can say more insulting things about Sarah?"
"Yes and no," Sherlock said calmly, dismissing John's hostility completely. "Pass me my phone."
When John didn't move from the doorway, Sherlock gave him the most genuine smile he could muster. "Please?" Groaning, John trudged to the dining table and rifled through the clutter of dirty dishes and loose paper. "Where is it?"
"Pants pocket," Sherlock mumbled, typing absently at his laptop in order to look busy. Grumbling again, John shuffled over to where Sherlock sat and felt for the phone.
Sherlock hid this face as John's hands passed over this thighs. The burning sensation in his cheeks unnerved him. He took a deep breath to calm himself just as John dropped his phone carelessly onto the table in front of him. "When are you meeting the surgery girl for your get-together?"
"I'm meeting Sarah for our date very soon," John said, enunciating the words clearly. Sherlock wrinkled his nose. Obviously, he didn't need John to treat him like an idiot. Still, the burning in his cheeks returned when John had clarified that it was, indeed, a date. What did he see in her, anyway? Sherlock, of course, didn't truly understand all that ridiculousness with attraction and what-not, but the girl was so very… loud. And never stopped talking, oh, it drove him mad! How could John stand being with her alone for such long periods of time?
"Alright, Sherlock, that is enough!" Sherlock jumped, and gazed at John's furious expression quizzically. He hadn't any idea he was speaking out loud… his cheeks burned hotter.
"Sherlock," John said curtly, "I am tired of hearing this nonsense. I like Sarah, and I would very much appreciate it if you would put your jealousy aside for a moment and be happy for me that I've found someone!"
"You don't need to find someone!" John stared, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. It made Sherlock's anger and hurt burn even hotter until words just started to tumble out of his mouth. "You don't need to bother looking for someone when you've had someone here this whole time, John! And that person, to listen to you blubber on about this new girl you've met, how wonderful and intelligent she is, is… is…" Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard not to let the tears escape. His rage had burned out, and all that remained was pain. The aching hole inside his chest, the one he had tried so hard to ignore, had torn too wide to keep silent.
After a moment of silence that felt like decades, Sherlock sighed and opened his eyes. He didn't look at John, afraid to see what reaction his best friend had to his little rant. Instead, he stared intently at the yellow spray-painted face on the wall, the face with bullet holes for teeth.
"Sherlock…" Sherlock felt a stab of guilt through his chest. John's voice had caught, and it was far too quiet. There was also pain. So much pain.
Sherlock turned to John, intent of apologizing and silently trudging up to his room so he could burst into tears, but was too shocked to move at the look on John's face. The man's eyes sparkled through the tears streaming down his face, the hint of a sad smile playing at his lips. John took a step forward. "Sherlock, I never… I never knew. I'm so sorry—" Before he could finish, however, Sherlock closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around John.
He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. All he felt was a violent, aching relief wash over him like a ruthless tidal wave. After a moment, Sherlock felt John's hands hesitantly wrap around him, and he sighed. "You're going to be late for your… your date…"
John pulled back, and stared at Sherlock. A grin played on his face, his eyes sparkled. "Do you really think I'm going to be going after a thing like that?" John chuckled at the blush spreading over Sherlock's face. "Sarah's going to have to wait this one out, I think."