Sherlock sat in intense thought. His eyes closed gently while his hands clasped together in front of his face. John just sat there, observing Sherlock. He knew that this pose meant that a plan was formulating inside of Sherlock's complex mind. He had discovered this about Sherlock because of all the cases they had worked together. Sherlock had named this pose his 'Mind Palace.' John didn't understand it at first, but after a few more of his clever postures, everything became clear to him.

After a while, Sherlock quickly opened his eyes and sat upright.

" Its nothing but a old case but I'm going to need to go see Mycroft. We need more information."

John sat there looking confused. He wondered what made this case so special. Of course, there were a few special cases that Sherlock had wanted in the past, but none of them seemed to catch Sherlock's eye.

"So why is this case so important to you?" John asked as he rose out of the chair. He wanted some answers.

"It's not important. I just need more information and anyway, there were no other cases that were out there. Do you want me to be bored?" he teased. John recalled the last time Sherlock became bored. That wasn't too fun. For Sherlock, maybe it was a bit amusing. For him...not so much.

"Sherlock, you know that I locked up all of the guns in the house, don't you?"

"'Course I do. But, you forget i know how to pick locks and open vaults anyway there are other way to have fun, you know."

John didn't want to think about it. There were endless possibilities of what Sherlock could do.

"Alright, let's go then. Wouldn't want you blowing up the flat."

Sherlock grinned.

"There's my good man."

Sherlock and John both snatched their jackets off of the coat hangers. John was actually surprised that Sherlock cared to hang it up this time. After they had entered the taxi, nothing much was said.

Silence for John was always awkward. For Sherlock, that was a different story. It meant time to think and concentrate. So silence was always one of those things that Sherlock enjoyed. That is, until John started to speak.

"So...Sherlock, um...I noticed that you got a new scarf."

"John, don't speak. Things are much better without people babbling on about things that I don't care for. Besides, if I did, I wouldn't talk about them out loud."

There was not much talking after that.

After the uncomfortable ride (at least it was awkward for John), they had finally arrived at Mycrofts place.

"John, I want you to wait here while I go talk to him" Sherlock commanded. John was a bit surprised at the tone of his voice. This was certainly a conversation that Sherlock didn't want him to hear. Sherlocks' eyes were piercing into Johns' looking as serious as ever. After Sherlock had decided that John would stay right where he was, (considering the faint glimmer of fear in his face) he wandered into the office, and over towards the door.

Sherlock had managed to close the door while looking at John giving him a 'you better listen to me' face before the door clicked shut. John was left standing alone in the living room. He stood there for a minute pondering over what in the world made Sherlock so defensive and stern. He had never really gave John this type of lecture unless something was going on.

Of course John wasn't going to stay here. He wasn't a dog. Sherlock wasn't his master. In a matter of seconds John sneaked over to the door. Gently, he placed his ear against the wood. At first, he started to curse the fact that Mycrofts' office doors where so thick. All he could apprehend were little words here and there. Suddenly there was yelling. Yelling that John didn't need to stand next to the door to hear.

John then had a thought. What if Sherlock opened the door right now and John was standing here? Certainly Sherlock would give him another lecture, and he would be insulted even more than usual. He then quickly scurried over to the couch just in case one of then rushed out.

As he settled on the sofa, John could hear Sherlock's voice getting more audible.

"Mycroft, I am not refusing to do this because I'm going to get emotionally involved. I've been told by others I don't have any!" That was followed by a loud slam then a crash. John reckoned someone pounded on the desk and something tumbled off.

"Then why not?" There was a small pause.

"I'm busy! I have a case!" John knew that was a bold-faced lie. He hadn't had a case in weeks. Although, he did do a little detective work this morning. But finding chocolate isn't considered a case.

"Sherlock, he was your closest friend! You can not let this just rest!" John froze. This was definitely not what he was expecting to hear. Things had never gotten this serious between Sherlock and Mycroft. Well, maybe it had, but John certainly didn't want to be near when it happened.

He could hear someone stomping across the room. The doors were then thrown open with much theatrics.

"John, we are leaving now!" Not waiting for John, Sherlock stormed out in a huff and marched outside.

After John was sure Sherlock had left the building, John peeked at Mycroft who sat at his desk. The door to the office was open wide. His head in his hands. John hadn't seen Mycroft this upset in his entire life. Of course, he hadn't known Mycroft for a long time but still...He couldn't imagine seeing Mycroft this distressed.

John quickly turned back to leave. He didn't want Mycroft to see him spying on him. That would be hard to explain.

As he headed out the door, he spotted Sherlock in the taxi. That same taxi was heading down the street. Without John. This only happens when something is seriously wrong. And now he had his proof.

He sprinted towards the taxi, trying to signal the driver to stop. Unfortunately, the car was too far ahead, and he couldn't keep up. The speed of the taxi didn't help his situation either. He finally stopped running, breathing hard. John sighed in exasperation and walked home the rest of the way. He considered many things he could say to Sherlock when he arrived there. But he wanted answers from Sherlock, so he decided he better keep his mouth shut.

After a long dreadful two hours of walking, he reached their flat. He noticed Sherlock sitting in his chair watching TV.

"Why didn't you wait for me? " John asked in annoyance.

"I didn't notice you weren't here. You know, you really need let people know you're not here."

John sighed, feeling exhausted. "So you never noticed me running along the car screaming 'Sherlock stop?'" Sherlock thought that over for a few seconds.

"I didn't notice a thing." Sherlock tried to seem unconcerned. John just shook his head and thought to himself typical Sherlock. He then plopped in his usual chair, feeling very exhausted, and wondering what just happened.

Mycrofts words were gnawing at Johns brain. Who was Sherlock's closest friend, and why should Sherlock care for him? Sherlock never cares for anyone. Ever. Unless it's someone really special. But then why would Sherlock deny any involvement with him? It was very puzzling.

Sherlock snatched Johns laptop off the table and placed it on his lap. John usally would snap at Sherlock for taking his laptop, but he wanted information from Sherlock. Information he assumed wouldn't come easy without a lot of questioning. So he let it slide. This time, at least.

John placed his hands on his face, running over ways on how to approach Sherlock about the case.

Sherlock examined John out of the corner of his eye. He knew why John was so quiet. Mycroft had such a big mouth that everyone in the world probably heard him. It would be no big surprise if he heard the whole thing. Sherlock went back to his work, knowing that he would be interrupted. He didn't know how long it would take for John to find the right words. He would be busy with the laptop until then.

John shuffled into the kitchen and seized a small treat from the fridge, hoping it would help him get some answers. He then trudged right back into the living room, and perched himself right in front of Sherlock.

"So, what's so interesting about this 'James Johnson'" John asked, hoping that the question would get him something. He studied Sherlock, waiting for an answer.

Sherlock slowly looked up from the laptop. Was this seriously the best John could come up with?

"Nothing really. Just a unique kidnapper who now has seemed to disappear" Sherlock replied quickly. He then went back to the laptop. He typed away, knowing that John wasn't done with his interrogation yet.

"Then why did Mycroft say he was your closest friend?" John asked while playing with something in his pocket. He was trying to look casual. Of course, it didn't work on Sherlock. He knew what John was doing.

"Because he was" Sherlock stated, starting to get annoyed. His typing became a little louder. He was starting to wish John would just piss off.

Wow. Sherlock had a closest friend. Sounded like an even closer friend than himself. He wanted more answers though.

John acquired a small piece of chocolate out of his pocket and threw it to him.

"Here."

Hopefully he would take the piece and tell him everything like a 10 year old boy. But he knew this would never work. Well, it was worth trying, wasn't it?

Sherlock looked up at him giving John his best glare, knowing it angered John.

"Are you trying to buy me off?"

John hated it when he glared. With his piercing eyes, it made it feel like he was tearing his body inside out.

"No, I just thought you would like some chocolate after today." Sherlock knew he was lying but he accepted the treat anyway. He threw it on his desk. He already digested one, and if he had a second piece it would just slow him down. He then went back to his laptop, hoping to to god that he would just leave him alone already.

After a few minutes of silence, John decided to try again. "You never answered me."

Sherlock let out a low growl and shut Johns laptop with a slam. Now he was on the verge of throwing something.

"So, you really wanna know." John definitely did not like the look on Sherlock's face. His piercing glare was in full effect. This was the one he only used on people that really pissed him off. Like Jim, for example.

John gave a hesitant nod. He was almost scared of what Sherlock was going to do next.

Sherlock gradually closed his eyes and sighed gently before answering in a low, quiet voice.

"I lied. It wasn't a case. He was a kid I met in my teens. He was a lot like you, actually." John smiled. Finally he had gotten some answers. There was more.

"His mind was filled with useless facts. He was boring and calm. Oh, and he followed me around like a puppy dog. Just like you do. He also has an IQ as low as yours. But I assumed that because you both fill your mind with useless facts and yours is not well tuned like mine. Life must have been as easy for you two. Not thinking. He assumed he was my friend. But as it's been said before, I don't have friends. Mycroft said he was my friend. But this is the same man that has a obsession with umbrellas, so I wouldn't trust his opinion." There was bite to Sherlocks words. As soon as he was done speaking, he reopened John's laptop. John could mull over his words for a while. He now had more time to work.

John just sat there pissed off. All he did was ask a question. He wasn't expecting a full on insulting party.

Sherlocks words were affecting him. I don't have useless facts, and I don't have a low IQ. Who the hell does he think he is? Earlier today, he ordered me to stay in the same spot like I was a dog! He doesn't realize who he's talking to! After those thoughts (and much more inapporpriate thoughts) boiled inside of him, he kept on getting angrier and angrier until he couldn't take it anymore. He suddenly snapped at Sherlock.

"You know what? They where right. You have no emotions ."

And with that, John stormed to his room closing the door behind him with a slam. Sherlock would have noticed, but there was something else more important on his mind.

John paced around him room, thinking about how cruel Sherlock was to him today. How dare he treat him like this...but wait. Sherlock didn't respond to him. That was definitely not a good sign. Whenever something was really bothering Sherlock, he would always keep to himself, and never answer to anything or anyone.

John slowly sat on his bed, suddenly feeling horrible. What have I done? None of this was his business anyway...

John gradually stood and crept into the living room.

"Hey Sherlock?" He received no response. He walked closer to Sherlock's chair.

"Um, Sherlock?"

Still nothing. Things didn't look too good.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry." Sherlock still would not answer him. He just stared into space.

"I'm really sorry. About what I said. The whole emotions thing. I didn't mean it."

Once again, there was nothing. Finally, John sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair. "Sherlock, I'm really sorry, ok. Please don't do this."

Sherlock suddenly realized John was talking to him. How did he get over here? I thought he was still sitting across from him.

"What John?"

"I, I was just saying I'm sorry. For...For what i said. It wasn't ...you know...right." John looked at the ground in defeat as he stumbled over his words. He was embarrassed.

Sherlock looked over at John with a very what-do-I-do-next face.

"This is where I say thank you or something like that, right?"

John couldn't help but smile. Sherlock was a genius but when it came to social interaction, he was lost. "Yes Sherlock, this is where you say 'thank you or something like that'."

"Thank you." He left the last word in a high pitch making it seem almost like a question.

Sherlock suddenly pulled his phone out. "Hey John, can you run over to Lestrades office?"

"Why?" John asked, looking very perturbed.

"He just sent me a text saying he needs me, and because I can't possibly leave the house at this moment. You can go and see what he wants."

Sherlock hoped that John would leave.

After all that just happened, John didn't want to upset him more. So he just snatched his jacket and left without a word.

As the door shut quietly, Sherlock allowed a big smirk to spread across his face.