What the bloody fuck? John was taken aback, it seemed like Sherlock would've been able to handle the revelation better than this. He explained everything to him and he was completely truthful which, not a lot of people have the luxury of getting. What more did he want?

Sherlock was glaring at him now, because he was standing, jaw dropped in the doorway making no move to leave. Shutting his mouth John glared right back at him, he saw Sherlock flinch.

"What the fuck, Sherlock. You wanted me here, even after the incident at the pool, what changed?" The last two words were a whisper. He really had no idea what had changed since then and now and all he wanted was Sherlock to change his mind so they could sit and have tea. But obviously that wasn't going to happen, so he stomped up to his room to grab the first suitcase he could find and stuff it full of clothes.

When he got back downstairs, Sherlock was facing the back of the couch and it was clear to him he wasn't getting an answer so he left without so much as a goodbye.

John felt odd standing on James' doorstep, but he had nowhere else to go, he had given James this flat after he met Sherlock and moved in with him. It shouldn't be that odd, but he hadn't lived in this flat for very long in the first place and it never felt like home to him either. He wasn't sure whether or not James was even home so he knocked and hoped for the best. Not even a minute later the door opened to reveal a smiling James, who's face dropped into worry when he saw John.

"Johnny? What happened?" John just shrugged and stepped past him into the flat.

Looking around the room he noticed it hadn't really changed. The small tv had been switched for a bigger flat screen (roughly 52"), a bunch of monitors were set up in the spare bedroom showing CCTV footage from all around London and there were bits and pieces of James' influence. The flat had been well looked after, better than when he had it but then again he was busy controlling a criminal empire and all that.

It was strange seeing James in stay at home clothes, it made him seem so much more normal. The grey sweats and the black Beegees t-shirt wasn't helping the matter at all. It wasn't like he was wearing anything fancy either, just blue jeans and his cream jumper. So he flopped on the couch and James went to make tea, he knew James was going to demand what happened as soon as he got back. But what would he even tell him? Sherlock kicked him out because he didn't like the fact he was a criminal? He would totally pull the 'I told you so' card, he had told John from the beginning that this was a bad idea but he had no say because John was the boss. It was a silly notion anyways, Sherlock was a consulting detective, who not only solves crimes but only likes criminals because they're interesting not as his best friend. And what did he really expect, Sherlock not to put him behind bars?

Everything about this had screamed horrible idea but all he wanted was to meet Sherlock Holmes and live under his nose, but now it had all gone to shit. Just then James came out of the kitchen carrying tea, (thank god) and gives him a look.

"John Watson you tell me what happened or will I have to cut it out of you?" James snickered and John glared at him.

"Don't forget who you're talking to, James." His voice sounded monotone in his ears, this event shouldn't have affected him this he was a soldier for god's sake. But James continued to snicker and it was the end of John's fuse, he pounced.

John pinned James to floor, hands behind his back while he straddled his waist and James was still snickering so he shoved him harder into the floor.

"Ohh Johnny you fight dirty." And John didn't have the energy anymore, it was useless so he slumped to the floor beside James and covered his eyes with his arm. He just couldn't do it anymore, he was sick of trying and all he needed was to sleep. Or maybe get pissed, he knew James had the expensive alcohol, so why not?

Hauling himself to his feet, leaving James still lying on his stomach he rummaged around the cupboards until he found half a bottle of whiskey and plopped himself down at the kitchen table with a glass.

Took John about two hours to finish the bottle and he knew he was drunk. James had sat with him and had a few shots of vodka but nothing more, he claimed one of them had to be sober to help the other get to bed okay. John ranted to James about everything that had happened and how Sherlock was being a massive dick about it, kicking him out of the flat and such. His drunk ramblings weren't something to be proud of, he could hear his own voice slurring severely and decided it was time to go to bed.

Stumbling up from the table, James was immediately behind him with a glass of water and a few paracetamol for the hangover in the morning. James made sure John was tucked into bed all snug before he made him drink and take the pills, his head hit the pillow and he was asleep.

His dreams were colours, melting into one another, dancing and swirling. Green melting into yellow, yellow into gold, gold into orange and orange into red. The red turned into fire, a mixture of oranges and yellows accompanying the red. The fire danced into beautiful autumn leaves which fell at the slightest blue breeze, the blue breeze swirling into raging waves in the sea. The blues and greens mixing together to make their own unique colour which melded themselves into iris', the black pupil contrasting greatly with the bright colour and they were cold as if they were made of ice. The eyes were analyzing, like they were reading you like a book and they were familiar. The eyes then changed from cold to angry and a deep baritone voice rang out, echoing around in his mind.

"Leave."

John sat up in his bed covered in a cold sweat, he was shivering and his bed sheets were soaked. He had never once had a dream like that, especially one ending with Sherlock. God, what was wrong with him? Scrubbing his face with his hands he wiped away all the sweat and he was about to get out of bed when he mobile phone went off. There were 3 missed calls and 6 text messages. All from Sherlock and the latest text read.

Shouldn't have left him alone, John. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

A/N: Wow fuck, sorry guys it's been almost a month since I last updated. I went on vacation, then my cousins slept over, I got caught up most nights talking to my boyfriend and honestly some nights I just didn't want to write. But I'm sooooo sorry (x10000) I should update more regularly now. xoxo I love you guys!

(Also I'm ecstatic that Panic! At the Disco is back)