AN: How are you liking the story? A bit boring? If it is, I promise it will get better. I just don't want to rush things and this ends up being a few chapters. I want at least 20+ chapters in this story, so I'm trying my hardest to keep it interesting! The next chapter is going to be in Sherlock's POV, so you can see how he feels about everything. Additional note, Mycroft may possibly show up in the next chapter, so beware. :)
When they finally arrived back at the flat, Sherlock was in one of his moods. That mood where he's in his mind palace, thinking about the case. He does this for a few hours sometimes, or just a few minutes. John loved watching Sherlock when he was in his mind palace, he was completely innocent. He adored Sherlock the whole time.
John opened his eyes and looked around, the detective no where in sight. Where did he go? He was just here, wasn't he? John looked at the table in front of him, there was a still steaming cuppa tea and a note. He picked up the note and read:
Went out to get some milk, be back soon.
SH
John smiled, although Sherlock never went out to get milk, it was a nice thought that he did. John wondered how long he was sleeping, he looked at the clock, it was 5:30pm. A few hours. John got up and started cleaning things up, whenever there was a case Sherlock always got carried away and never focused on anything but the case, he really was married to his work. John sighed, he wished it wasn't really like that.
John stopped and looked around, what was he thinking? John wasn't gay, why did he feel like this? He tried so hard to get these feelings out of his body and mind but they wouldn't disappear. They wouldn't go away. Why did he have to care about Sherlock Holmes like this? How would Sherlock even react if he knew? What if he already knew? John's heart stopped for a moment. What is Sherlock could read John's emotions? John started getting frustrated, he picked up the pillow on his chair and threw it at the couch. Why did Sherlock do this to him? Why?
He heard the door open downstairs and footsteps. Sherlock was home from the store. John panicked and put the pillow back where it was and ran off to his room before he could face the detective. If he saw him, Sherlock could easily read every thought going through John's mind. He didn't want that, not that all. He didn't want the amazing Sherlock Holmes to know that John Watson cared much more for him.
