The army doctor found himself, tired with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, on the doorstep of 221B Baker Street. He often unconsciously walked here, mostly in the habit of this being his old home, but now because of what Sherlock had said nearly a week ago. John had been worrying himself sick since! But today, like every day when he looked up to see the door of his former flat, he was going to knock and ask to see Sherlock.
And like every day, that didn't happen. The doctor ended up trudging back to his and Mary's house.
The next morning wasn't any better as all the mornings since that night have been. John woke up with a throbbing head, though he had nothing to drink the night before, and one heck of a dizzy spell. That's it! He needed to talk to Sherlock that day!
Did that happen? No.
Sherlock's situation was no different, except he spent days and nights pacing the floor and nearly wearing a hole in it. He thought and thought about what he had said and how he knew John would want nothing to do with him after that. John wouldn't understand; he'd think the love Sherlock felt for him was strictly platonic. Of course, Sherlock loved him as a friend, one that he sure as hell didn't deserve, but that didn't mean there wasn't a possibility of anything more (in Sherlock's case that is. John was already married).
Married. To a woman. He'll just have to get used to it, because that'll never change no matter what comes out of Sherlock's mouth.
The consulting detective was staring at the wall when knocking at the front door jolted him. He waited for Mrs. Hudson to get it, but then he realized she was out of town. He muttered under his breath all the way to the front door and yanked it open.
"John." The name left his mouth without his brain's knowledge, as do most things, but that's not the point.
The army doctor tried to smile, but he really couldn't. "May I come in?" he asked.
Sherlock nodded and let him in. They walked up to 221B and it almost seemed like nothing had changed. Once they were inside, Sherlock offered his ex-flatmate a seat and sat at his chair at the desk.
The silence between them was anything but comfortable. John's eyes wandered around the room while Sherlock's were focused on a small piece of wallpaper that was coming up. It was about ten full minutes before John cleared his throat.
"Uh, Sherlock, I wanted to talk to you about what you said a week ago," John managed.
The other man nodded and swallowed.
John was shaking his head. He looked at Sherlock. "Why did you say that to me?" he asked.
Sherlock shrugged. "I wanted you to know," he croaked. "I never meant to hurt you, John. I was just tired of keeping it a secret."
"You do know that this can never work out," John said painfully. "I can never love you the way you want me to. I-I have Mary-"
"I know, John," he replies quietly. "I should have never spoken about it."
John shook his head again. "No, Sherlock. It's not your confession that has me upset... it's the timing of it." He watched a frown settle on Sherlock's brow. "If you would have told me before you died-"
"You would have killed yourself, John. I couldn't do that to you," Sherlock interrupted. "My sudden death would have driven you mad. That's why I didn't tell you. When I returned, I... this is the explanation for my behavior toward you. I had no right, John. You're are married to a lucky woman no doubt. I shouldn't've-"
"Sherlock, I'm still your friend," John said. "I... I love you too, but-"
"Please," the other replied weakly. "Don't repeat it. Those words are all I wanted to hear."
John smiled. "Are you still my friend?"
The consulting detective looked John in the eye and smiled too. "Yes," he nodded. "I am."
Sherlock and John's friendship grew stronger after that. They continued working cases together. Sherlock came around enough to visit Mary quite often, mostly when John was at his real job. And John, oh, he was not at all jealous when Sherlock told him he had found someone to love.
No, he wasn't jealous. They had talked about it ages ago when Sherlock told him he loved him. No, absolutely not.
Dr. John Watson was not jealous!
Nope.
... Fine... but a little... mostly.
The End.