Hello, friends!

I'm sorry for the waiting, but I had a lot of work and my free time disappeared, so I couldn't write a word. Here it is the second chapter of "The answer to your fears". The first thing I want to say is that I apologize because of the grammar and vocabulary mistakes I made in the first chapter. I'm not English and I'm still learning this wonderful language, so now I've got a good friend that helps me with the translations: special thanks to you, my first reviewer, you're incredible =)

And, of course, THANK YOU SO MUCH to all the people that has reviewed my story, put it in story alerts and in favourite stories. You have made me really happy with your comments (Lyricoloratura and Meredithriddle, an enormous hug for you two). Well, now, after all this agreements and apologies, let's begin with the second chapter of "The answer to your fears". Hope you like it and, please, stay awesome!

Chapter 2

The London sun is pushing through the window curtains, showing its warm light for the first time in weeks. Sherlock hasn't even noticed. His mind is racing, working to solve the puzzle named John. He has been awake all night, hoping to hear a noise, a door closing, steps, a breath, a word, even a tear, from the bedroom upstairs. This is not Sherlock's normal behaviour. He has never worried about anyone previously.

But, in fact, that's because I've never had anyone to worry about, he thinks.

He's often judged to be a sociopath by those around him who have only observed his outward mannerisms. He isn't a psycho-sociopath, or whatever those damn people say. He knows who he is. He knows he's just different from others, and he's proud of it.

However, he's still surprised about this completely new feeling, this feeling of helplessness.
His mind continues waiting. He's absolutely sure that John's night hasn't been all sweet slumber. He can imagine him, in bed, with the bed covers untucked, laying flat on his back with open eyes, observing the ceiling or maybe nothing. Lying there with nothing but a blank expression on his face again. What's happening inside him? Is he still shocked?

Of course not!, the detective thinks.

The Moriarty event was a terrible experience, but not at that level. At the end of all, John is an ex-soldier. He has seen and lived a thousand things worse.

Then, what is it?

Is all of this about feelings? It's the only possibility that fits this whole situation the consulting detective confirms to himself.

Unfortunately, he isn't an expert on that unknown and complicated world of feelings. It's not something he has been able to study or experiment on.

But feelings about what? Is it fear? Fear that the bored psychopath will return? It's so obvious that Sherlock is sure that isn't the reason of the doctor's strange behaviour. Is he afraid at the thought of Moriarty catching him again and making him wear another Semtex vest? No, Sherlock doesn't believe that. But what if something else happened that night in the swimming pool? What if Moriarty did something to John before he got there at midnight...?

Sherlock glances at the kitchen clock for the umpteenth time. Just before nine o'clock, Wednesday morning. John should be leaving the flat to go to work at any moment, but he hasn't even risen from his bed. The detective thinks for a moment and gets up, leaving the violin on the armchair, his last thought still weighing heavily on his mind. He goes quickly upstairs and stops in front of John's bedroom door, his hand shaking, waiting in the air, doubting, not sure if he should knock or enter directly. They are flatmates and best friends too, but Sherlock thinks it isn't a good idea, so his hand raps lightly on the door. On the other side of the door there's only silence. A second knock, stronger this time. The silence is the only welcome. Sherlock bows his head, his eyes closed with worry. The third knock is accompanied by his voice.

"John! Everything all right?"

A few seconds without answer.

"Yes, Sherlock. I was just asleep." John mutters, his voice low.

Liar thinks the detective.

"Do you know what time is it? You should have gone to work ten minutes ago!"

"I know, but I don't feel very well today. Could you please phone Sarah and tell her I'm ill?" The doctor's voice was so raw and far and... empty.

"You aren't ill, John."

"Can you just do that, Sherlock? Please?"

"But... alright, I'll call her. But, at least, can I come in? I prefer talking to a person, not to a door."

"I want to be alone"

Sherlock is worried and he is tired of not knowing what is wrong. He steps closer to the door, his voice rising.

"Damn it John, what's the problem? What's going on? What's happening to you?

"I am fine Sherlock, now please go and call Sarah," answers the doctor with the door still closed.

"Don't lie to me, you know you can't!" The detective's voice increases as he begins to lose his temper, something that rarely happens. "Is it because Moriarty did something to you apart from the Semtex? Did he touch you?" He finally said it.

Silence, then steps sound loudly before the door opens. An angry face with deep circles appears in front of Sherlock.

"Go away" says John with a cold voice.

"But... John... I'm so-..."

"GET. THE. FUCK. AWAY!"

The door closes with a terrible slam. Sherlock stays in front of it for a few seconds, eyes wide open, blaming himself because of his lack of sensibility. How can he say something like that in such a way? Maybe all the people around him are right. Maybe he isn't suited to live with anyone. Maybe he's the world's worst sociopath...

.oOoOo.

John hears Sherlock heading slowly down the stairs, then complete silence. He's still standing by the door, leaning his forehead against it. He can't believe what he just heard. Sometimes he doubts the deductive skills of the consulting detective. Does he really think that's what happened? He moves and goes back to his bed, sitting with a tired sigh. He knows he shouldn't be angry with Sherlock, he is just trying to help him. In fact, he seems really worried about John's problem, something new for both of them, if they're honest. John can't stop thinking.

I want to tell him. But if I do... he will do all kinds of stupid things that would put his life in danger. And I can't allow that.

John starts as another rap sounds at his door. He hadn't even heard Sherlock climb the stairs.

"John, look, please. I'm really sorry. I'm an idiot, I shouldn't have said that. I apologise."

John can't even talk when he hears Sherlock's raw voice.

"I... I know you haven't eaten a thing in nearly two days, so I'll order some Chinese for lunch, and I promise I will eat too. And there's some hot tea downstairs, I've just made it fresh. It's ironic, yes, I've finally done something productive and normal in our kitchen." Sherlock chuckles softly and John can hear the smile in his voice.

John wants to open the door and say all the things he's been keeping inside since that moment in the swimming pool. But instead he squeezes his eyes tightly closed as tears flow down his cheeks.

"Please, John, say something. John, please..." Sherlock's voice cracks.

The detective's feet move slowly back down the stairs and John continues crying, curled on the bed, hugging himself now.

I can't, Sherlock... I can't

No smut in this one! Sorry, I promise I will make those two get better and... in sexier situations ;)

Review, comment and enjoy the continuation of "The Answer to your Fears".