Sherlock looked up from his laptop as John entered the flat. He could tell that something was bothering the doctor from the sound of his tread on the steps. It was the same something that had been bothering John for weeks, since the case that had taken them out of London. They had been forced to share a room and the doctor had made his usual protests that he wasn't gay. It had irritated the detective to no end. Three days later, they had returned to 221B. Two days after that, John had started seeing Ella again. Sherlock wanted to know why. Of course, he wouldn't ask. He couldn't bear the idea that sharing a room with him had been so traumatic even though they hadn't shared a bed.
Shrugging off his coat, the doctor hung it up, then he walked over to his chair. Instead of sitting in it, he stared at it, then he began pacing. Ella was right. He needed to talk to Sherlock about this, about everything, but it was so incredibly difficult to get started. He turned, determined to begin, but found himself in the kitchen, putting on the kettle. John stewed as he waited for the kettle to boil. Why was this so difficult. He opened his mouth, willing the words to come forth, but they wouldn't. In frustration, he hit the counter top with his fist.
"And how did the counter offend you?" Sherlock asked from just behind the doctor.
John spun around, swearing. He hadn't hear the other man approach. "Sorry. Sorry." He swept a shaking hand over his eyes. "It's been a rough day."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I've had enough of whatever this is, John. I know you're seeing Ella again. Oh, don't look at me like that. It's obvious. And I know why. I make you uncomfortable. Fine. You can at least be a man about it and admit it."
"Wh... What? No! That's not it at all!" John protested. It was about as far from the truth as one could get. He simply had to come clean to Sherlock and he had to do it now.
"Of course you are," the detective sneered. "This crisis started at the inn when we shared a room. I assure you, you haven't caught the gay disease from close proximity to me." That John of all people should be so unthinking, so callous, hurt to no end.
"Shut up and listen. You don't know everything." John's voice shook with suppressed emotion. He turned off the kettle, then sagged against the counter. "It's absolutely not what you think. It's... Christ. Can we go sit down?" He didn't wait for an answer, just went to the living room and took a seat in his chair. John stared at his hands whilst he waited for Sherlock to join him. As soon as the detective had sat, John took a shaky breath and began.
"I haven't slept with anyone since I came back from Afghanistan. I'm not using that as a euphemism for sex. I've had plenty of sex. I mean it literally." John kept his gaze on his hands. "You don't just say that to somebody and you bloody well don't tell them why." Here he paused, grateful when Sherlock didn't rush him to continue. "You don't tell people that you're afraid. You don't tell them that your biggest fear is waking from a nightmare to find that you've killed your bed partner. With my girlfriends, I always had work or you as an excuse. I've had to rush off because you were in trouble enough that they were always willing to believe my excuses." The doctor looked at Sherlock and made a guilty face. "With you..." He sighed. "I'm ashamed of how I handled it. I thought if I played the 'not gay' card, you'd be offended and get another room. Hell, I did it preemptively when I first moved in."
Sherlock laughed bitterly, causing John to look at him questioningly.
"Idiot. Offending me would guarantee just the opposite."
"Yeah. I noticed." John looked back down at his hands. "I've never understood why you put up with me after all of that."
The detective thought for a moment. "Because I always suspected there was something I was missing. However, I was starting to think I was mistaken. For once, I'm glad to have overlooked something."
"Yeah." John forced himself to look at Sherlock. "There's more, if you want to hear it."
"Go on." The detective inclined his head towards John.
"You'd think this part would be easy." John gave a self deprecating laugh. "Right. So. About the whole 'not gay' thing. That's actually a lie. Sort of. I'm bisexual. That makes what I did that much worse because I know how much it can hurt. And it keeps getting worse. I kept doing it. Even after I fell in love with you." John barely looked up, terrified of what he might see.
Sherlock was staring at him, completely nonplussed. He had lived with the idea that his sexuality repelled John for so long. Always, he had lied to himself and said it didn't matter, but there was a wound there that the doctor's words had made and they would need time to heal. He understood why John had said those hurtful words and he thought he could love him. A part of him already did, despite everything, but it would take time.
The doctor took a deep breath, then spoke. "Say something?"
Sherlock stood and walked to the window where he looked out. "Give me time."