Here's the second chapter:)

Enjoy!

And because I forgot to put it on the last chapter, I own nothing:(

This hasn't been checked so all mistakes are mine.

John Watson was a simple man so naturally the first thing he did when they got back to the flat was boil the kettle for a cuppa. Taking out two cups, he made the tea and took it in to Sherlock who had thrown himself onto the sofa with his usual grace.

"Here." He said shortly, he was still reeling from what he had been thinking about on the way back, first and foremost; could he actually leave, could he give this up. After thinking about it, now he was starting to think that no, he couldn't. It was a well known fact that he was an adrenalin junkie and he needed the rush that Sherlock's work gave him but something had to give. Glancing over to his flatmate, he saw that he had his good arm thrown over his eyes as if blocking out the world and had not yet touched his cup of tea, "Drink your tea Sherlock, the way you've been going God knows you need it."

Slowly one of Sherlock's eyes cracked open and started to flicker all over his face and run down his figure, any other time it would have almost been welcome, the attention, but now with Sherlock looking at his like an experiment he thought he'd rather go without. He needed to think about this with a clear head, not one fogged with fatigue and simmering anger that was still directed at his flatmate.

John watched as Sherlock took a drink of his tea and decided to down his so he could go to bed before he did or said something he would probably later regret.

"Right. I'm off to bed, I'll see you in the morning." Sherlock didn't acknowledge him but just turned around on the sofa so his back was to John.

"Right, okay then."

Once again his mind strayed to Sherlock, he probably should leave that was a definite, people had said it to him enough but he didn't know if he could. He would more than likely have to stay with Harry for a little while so he could find a place, he may need another flatmate; everything at this moment was up in the air.

The idea of talking to Sherlock popped into his mind and was quickly dismissed, it would be awkward and he didn't think he could take the inevitable rejection.

He would just have to wait and see what morning would bring him.

John woke slowly to that sounds of a violin being tortured and his mind immediately went back to last night and what he had been contemplating before he had fallen asleep. Not only might it be a cruel thing to do, but if Sherlock called his bluff and actually let him leave then he would be devastated. Last night he was thinking that Sherlock never showed any kind of emotion unless under stress, Baskerville for example, so what if he could threaten to leave and see what happened. It would be a huge risk as he had decided that he didn't really have the will to leave the man he had fallen in love with but it would be worth it to get some sort of response from him. The only problem was though that the best lies had an element of truth in them and if what he planned to say strayed into dangerous territory, then Sherlock would find out how John felt about him. It was a bad plan, but it was the only one he had, he needed to know if there was any point in him staying.

John slowly made his way out of bed as his legs were like jelly from chasing Sherlock around London. Pulling a worn beige jumper over his head, he made his way down the stairs towards the horrible sounds coming from the living room.

"Sherlock! Would you cut that out! Mrs Hudson is probably still asleep." He had to raise his voice to be heard over the din and when his words did reach Sherlock, he lifted his bow and turned around slowly.

"Good Morning John." There was something wrong. Even John could see that much, the way Sherlock was holding himself for one thing, he was as taut as a violin string, and his eyes, whereas they usually rested on his violin or John, they flitting about all over the place. He reminded John of something but he couldn't put his finger on what it was until Sherlock spoke again, "Are you still angry?" John would have to say that he had never heard Sherlock's voice sound like that before, small and quiet and then John knew what is was Sherlock reminded him of. The great consulting detective looked like a scared child in front of an angry parent and didn't that sting. Granted he was older than Sherlock but if the man saw him as some sort of authority figure then that pretty much blew John's plans to Hell.

"Yes Sherlock, I'm still angry and you shouldn't be playing when your arm is bandaged up like that, let me have a look at it." He held his arm out and Sherlock slowly approached with a crestfallen look on his face.

"What's wrong Sherlock, does your arm hurt?"

"No it's fine. Why are you still angry? It's not like I haven't done this sort of thing before and you've never cared before. You've never reacted like you did last night." Again that small voice was back and John hated it. It was so not-Sherlock that it made him very worried. However, it was then that Sherlock's words registered and John once again felt that white hot rage fill him. He had never cared before! What planet had Sherlock been living on, to say he was the observant one, sometimes he missed the obvious.

"Sherlock," John spoke with clenched teeth and measured words, "we will talk about why I am angry later after I have redressed your arm."

For better or for worse, it only took a few minutes to redress the 'scratch' on Sherlock's arm and soon his attention was back on his face. They looked at each other for what felt like a long time and John thought about his plan to get Sherlock to open up. This was a perfect opportunity and it was now or never, he knew it was cruel but he needed to know if he had any chance whatsoever and no way was Sherlock going to make a move if he felt the same way John did. He just hoped it wouldn't backfire and end up with hurt feelings on both sides.

"Sherlock. What you did yesterday was stupid and unnecessary! You know I would have come to help you if you needed me, for that matter you know Lestrade would as well." John spoke in a quiet voice because the way Sherlock was acting scared him a little, he had never seen him look so vulnerable.

"Sherlock, will you please tell me why you thought it was a good idea to run after Peters alone?" He wasn't really expecting an answer so when Sherlock looked up and opened his mouth, he couldn't help but be surprised.

I know the ending is horrible but the next chapter will be up soon:)

Any feedback would be very, very much appreciated.