Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing

A/N: This is my version of Sherlock, if it's slightly OOC, well… Shit happens. If it comes of as funny, it is not intended (though I had fun writing it, so you are allowed to smile), I'm merely trying to imagine how his thoughts work, and that includes a lot of digressions – in no way a straight line. I've tried to keep them at a minimum, but it's hard because, well, it is rather fun to write like that.

And: Watch your steps... Later 'Sherlock' chapters are not as bad as this one, but it had to be done this way.

(10/5/12: again, just checking for mistakes. And removing the A/N promising this to be the last long A/N. It was a lie. I'm a bad, bad A/N-liar-person)

Lines of reasoning
Sherlock's POV

If he was to be perfectly honest with himself (well that was a stupid phrasing, since he actually always was; lying to oneself was a perfect exampled of wasted energy that normal people indulged in) Sherlock was annoyed because John apparently had banned filming DI Lestrade. Lestrade had filmed him once, so why on earth did John not protest against that, and more annoyingly: why was he suddenly lecturing Sherlock on the subject of not filming drunk-out-of-their-mind acquaintances? So it was because of John's lecture that Sherlock was annoyed and had resolved into suggesting that the film were to be used in blackmailing the DI.

But this line of reasoning left a problem – perhaps not a big problem, definitely a problem someone else would have missed – because if he replayed the conversation between John and himself in John's bedroom… Yes, the annoyance at hand was clearly connected to a conclusion he had reached a while back, and since then had tried ostentatiously to delete. Sherlock clenched his lips together and tried to focus on the still-sleepy London streets outside the cab's windows (apparently annoyed was all he was able to feel right now, but that was due to annoying circumstances that he himself had no control over – no matter how hard he tried), and reluctantly lined up the reasons for his annoyance:

1: He, apparently, had not been 'perfectly honest' with himself.

2: He had not become annoyed at John's lecture; he already was annoyed at that point.

3: He was annoyed at John because… Because of the idiotic smile on his face when he was reading the texts from Lestrade. No, scratch that. He was annoyed at John because of the clenching feeling John's idiotic smile had caused in his stomach.

4: The clenching feeling in his stomach had come because John's soft smile (soft smile! Idiotick smile, Sherlock, idiotic smile. Almost the smile of someone who had had a lobotomy Sherlock corrected himself)... John's idiotic smile had caused him to remember a mistake he had made.

5: The mistake he had made, which frequently came back to his consciousness (apparently it did not understand the concept of being deleted, which in itself made him annoyed) and reminded him that he had been to hasty in his dismissal of the pass John had made at him on their first night at Angelo's (to be fair, Sherlock had wanted to make himself clear so there would be no future misunderstandings, people who suddenly changed their agenda towards him made him uneasy).

6: John had not, in fact, made a pass at him.

7: John was not attracted to men.

8: He was attracted to John.

Number seven, eight, and five clearly was the main sources of his annoyance. He shouldn't care whether John was attracted to men or not (number seven incidentally also meant that he had had no reason for the clenching feeling in his stomach that had appeared at the same time John had smiled at Greg's texts, this was annoyingly contradictory). He shouldn't care, because he shouldn't be attracted to John (cf. the conflict with number eight as yet another source of annoyance), and, well, number five was self-explanatory – he hated making that sort of simple mistake.

"Sherlock are you even listening to me?"

Johns voice pierced his now almost perfectly sorted thoughts – and left them shattered once again. Annoying yes.

"Mmm…" Sherlock hummed.

Probably not fair to take it out on John, but since he was the source it was the easiest thing to do.

"You haven't heard a word I've been saying, have you?"

Rhetorical question, no reason to answer.

"Sherlock have you heard anything I've told you while being in this cab?"

"No, I've had more important things to focus on."

John let out a sigh, now he was annoyed too, excellent, well he was actually already annoyed before they got in the cab, so this made little difference. Sherlock could see John's reflection in the wet windows of the cab, he was looking at the back of Sherlock's head and what appeared to be an inner battle was going on inside that blond head of his. It seemed like a battle between relinquishing the subject he had been talking about up until now or continuing to demand Sherlock's attention out of nothing but defiance.

"Oh, so you don't mind then?" sadly the 'relinquishing' part had lost then.

"Don't mind what?"

Really, now was not the time he wanted to have a discussion with John, he just wanted to continue to deleting his conclusions and the reasons for these conclusions. This last one held a problem, Sherlock was well aware of that, because John was the most vociferous reason for his conclusions, and he did not want to (nor would he be able to legally – but perhaps Mycroft would be a help in that matter) delete John.

Again John interrupted his thoughts with a sigh (really, that man sighed an awful lot, it was annoying but also endearing, which again made it even more annoying).

"I've just talked to Lestrade – in case you didn't hear the phone call either – and he sounds, if possible, even more drunk than he did 10 minutes ago, so I'm thinking that it would be a good thing if we brought him back to our flat so that I can keep an eye on him. And just in case it should become necessary, my medical supply will be close at hand."

Sherlock turned his head to look at John, he had planned on giving him a blank expression, but he felt his eyebrows rise up on his forehead. Why on earth was John so concerned with Greg, surely the DI was a grown man, he was able to make his own choices, and he had chosen to get drunk, be sad, be walked all over by his ex-wife, not hitting the proper keys on his phone, and texting Sherlock. John was always good at caring for others, especially those he liked, which fortunately included Sherlock (this thought made his lips twitch and the corners of his mouth formed a small smile), but right now it annoyed the hell out of him. And apparently the facial expression he ended up having made John a little uneasy, because the blond man cringed his eyebrows and his eyes flickered a little nervously,

"Sherlock, this is not another opportunity to film the poor sod."

"I already told you I wouldn't."

"You promise, Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"And you have no objections to the man sleeping in the apartment? I can put him up in my room."

"No!"

Judging by the look on John's face that came out in the wrong tone of voice – and too hastily. Sherlock collected himself; this could still be corrected,

"No, there are too many stairs. We are going to break our backs dragging a man of Lestrade's stature up two flights of stairs. You can put him on the sofa – or, if that is not good enough Doctor, you can put him in my bed, since I'm not going to need it anyway."

John's expression softened, so it seemed like he had succeeded in his diversion from his first exclamation.

"That sounds reasonable – your bed I mean; the sofa is too small, it would just make his hangovers worse being cramped up on it."

Always so considerate, John, this normal, not-boring boring person next to him. This made Sherlock even more annoyed. According to the definitions of friendship he was aware of, one could like (even love) ones friend (but only in at strictly platonic way) and find them not-boring. But Sherlock did not only like John in a strictly platonic way, he actually wanted the man (and could not forgive the dead, Greek philosophers for inventing the term 'platonic'). And right now caring Doctor John Watson had directed all of his care giving abilities towards Greg. Usually most of them were directed towards Sherlock, which made the fact that he could never have John the way he wanted bearable.

"Fine." he snorted out as an answer to John, the man was probably right after all, and if placing Greg in Sherlock's bed made him satisfied, then so be it.

"Good…" John replied and turned his attention away from Sherlock and towards the darkly lit streets of London, a mixture of relief, annoyance and something Sherlock wasn't quite able to categorise played upon Johns face staring out the cab's window.

Sherlock turned his attention back out his own window and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. Perhaps 'annoyed' was the wrong word to describe the feelings that roared ('roared', really? 'Stirred' was perhaps more adequate)… 'Annoyed' was perhaps the wrong word to describe the feelings that stirred inside him. 'Peevish' seemed more fit – and besides it did sound better than 'Irritable', even though the meaning didn't differ all that much. But all three words did actually refer to the same thing… Synonyms were just so lovely when they made minds race in circles, at least as long as it wasn't his own mind. And to be perfectly, perfectly honest with himself, none of the words covered the reason for his annoyance; the different conclusions he had made weren't causing him to be annoyed, actually they didn't cause him to be just one word (however wonderful that would have been), they caused him to be two words: longing and jealous.

The cab came to a stop outside the Yard.