AN: Sorry that I've been away so long. I'd kind of stopped writing for a while. I don't know if anyone will even remember this story anymore, but I thought I'd post more. Sorry this chapter is so short, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. :D

xxx

A few days passed before Sherlock or John spoke of his revelation again. John somehow felt he had wrung the subject for all it was worth, and he felt that he also might have touched a nerve. Not wanting to expose Sherlock further, he'd decided that, despite his burning curiosity, he would let things settle down for a few days.

There were still no cases, and Sherlock was more focussed on his perfume samples than ever before. John couldn't decide if it was his own imagination, but Sherlock somehow seemed a little more distant and closed off. In fact, he was virtually silent over those few days. That was common enough for Sherlock, but usually he talked a little more.

It had been something of a shock to John. He'd never imagined that Sherlock had been in a relationship, had sex or fallen in love. Somehow those things didn't seem to fit with his image of Sherlock. The idea of him with this lecherous professor was extremely distasteful to him. It made his skin crawl, and he couldn't help but feel angry that Sherlock had fallen for such a worthless character. And, in spite of Sherlock's protestations to the contrary, John was entirely convinced that he had indeed fallen for his professor.

Had Sherlock ever loved anyone else? Maybe there were other guys he'd fallen for too. Maybe there'd been girls? He couldn't quite make up his mind on that one. Sherlock certainly wasn't your typical heterosexual man, but who knew if he was attracted to women as well as men?

He was sitting in the living room as he pondered this. Sherlock was close by, busily typing on his laptop. John had been feeling so tired that he was close to dozing off back to sleep, when Sherlock spoke.

"Have you eaten this morning?"

That was random. John cleared his throat. "Erm...no, not yet."

Sherlock shut his laptop and stood. "Then let's go to the cafe down the road. My mind needs some stimulation, fresh air. I can't work here anymore." He sighed, frowning in irritation.

"Yeah," said John. It was a somewhat out of the blue suggestion, but John was used to such things. Besides, now that he thought of it, he was quite hungry and could do with some fresh air as himself.

They didn't speak on the journey, something John was well accustomed to. The cafe was relatively quiet when they arrived. They were early, John supposed. Most people who went to a cafe for breakfast went at a more leisurely time, perhaps. He made his order of fried egg and toast and a pot of tea.

Sherlock just had a large coffee, into which he tipped two packets of sugar. John shook his head at this, tut tutting internally. The man had the most bizarre eating schedule and primarily relied on sugary tea and coffee to function. He didn't pass comment, however. He'd done that enough times and was thoroughly tired of the response by now. Apparently it all had to do with quick energy release to provide the brain with fuel, without wasting it on digestion. As a doctor, John knew that much sugar couldn't be healthy, but in fairness his own diet wasn't exactly stellar either.

He looked down at the puddle of runny yolk on his plate and dug his fork in and took a bite. He eyed Sherlock wordlessly, waiting to see if he would speak.

"What?" Sherlock said, noticing his look.

"Just wondering what we're doing here. I mean I'm enjoying it," he said, gesturing to his plate of food, "but, you know..."

"Does there have to be a reason?"

"There's always a reason," said John. "The only thing that varies is whether you tell me what it is or not. So..." He trailed off expectantly.

"So, it's a nice morning and I thought it would do my mind good to get out of the flat," said Sherlock.

"Okay, so you don't want to tell me anything then? Discuss anything?" He was trying to sound casual, but he was secretly hoping the conversation was headed in the same direction as his curiosity. He didn't want to be the first to bring it up, but he wanted to ask more about it.

"No." Sherlock stirred his coffee slowly, and then raised it to his lips to take a sip. Both his hands cupped around it, probably to warm his hands. Sherlock's hands were always cold.

Curiosity was starting to get the better of John. "Look, can we just talk about this? About this relationship you had. I'm your friend."

Sherlock's lip curled at that last statement. "What do you want to know?"

That was a surprise. John had expected him to be more resistant. "Eh, I don't know. No, actually..." He rubbed his temples, suddenly a little agitated. "What...exactly did you see in him?"

"I've already answered that. I found him physically attractive. He was remarkably well-preserved for his age. He could have passed for a decade younger." Sherlock raised one of the paper napkins on the table to his lips. "The more interesting question might be what did he see in me?"

John wasn't sure how to take that. He couldn't decide whether Sherlock seriously didn't see why people would be attracted to him, or whether he meant something else. "Well, I'd have thought that would be obvious."

Sherlock frowned at that. "Obvious? Enlighten me, please."

John was genuinely puzzled now. There was no way Sherlock couldn't see that he was attractive, was there? "Well, I mean you were...are...young, attractive, single, intelligent. You know. Maybe you were more of a bookish type, but I'd imagine a professor would go for that."

Sherlock winced, and immediately John knew he'd said the wrong thing. "Yes," he replied coldly. "I don't think that is how most people would have described me then – or now for that matter."

"But you are!" John was amazed. Did Sherlock not realise how often people fancied him? He had always seemed able to deduce that.

"I didn't say I wasn't. I said that's not usually how people would have described me." There was bitterness to his words that John quite put his finger on. Had someone else rejected him before?

"Was there someone else?"

Sherlock's eyes fixed his sharply. "No."

He'd said it too quickly. There had been someone else. There must have been. And John was damned if he wasn't going to find out who.