Chapter 4:
As Sherlock sits on his haunches in his armchair as John bustles about the flat looking desperately for his phone.
"Sherlock are you sure you haven't seen my phone?"
"Yes John. You had it while we were in the cab, you were texting Sarah."
John spins around to glare at Sherlock. "Yes I know that, thank you… couldn't you do some deducing, and find it?
"You know it doesn't work that way."
John sighs angrily, and continues looking for his phone. "Well I'm supposed to be half way across London by now to meet Sarah and I'm not leaving with out my phone."
Sherlock glances up "Why? So you can text me while you're on a date? Seems rather rude to me."
"You are one to talk, you're the rudest person I know." John says, coming round to the chair where Sherlock is sitting. Urgently looking beneath it and finding nothing, John leans in towards Sherlock.
"There is a difference between being rude and being honest."
John just shakes his head, and plunges his hands beneath the cushion Sherlock is seated on. "Could you move please?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I'm rather enjoying watching you be so ridiculous."
"Sherlock, I am not being ridiculous, I just really want to get on my way to meet Sarah."
"I'll help you find your phone if you stay home." Sherlock offers, tilting his head slightly.
"Um. No thank you." John says moving to the sofa to rummage through the pillows.
"Then you wont find it." Sherlock says smugly. Too smugly John realizes.
"You know where it is."
"No."
John puts his hands on his hips. "Yes you do. Give it to me."
"I don't know where it is!" Sherlock squeaks when John lunges towards him in the armchair.
"Yes, you do!" John says wriggling his fingers into Sherlock's coat pockets. Finaly Sherlock stops resisting John's seach, and sits perfectly still, watching the doctor explore the exterior and interior pockets of his dark blue blazer.
"If I did know where it was, and I'm not saying I do, I wouldn't have hidden it somewhere so simple as my jacket pockets." Says the detective. John grumbles in acknowledgment and slides his hands down Sherlock's hard flat stomach to the front pockets of his dark jeans. Immediately it's obvious that there is nothing in the pockets there, the material tis pressed tight against his hips, and it would be visable if his phone were there.
Stand up." John orders, sounding very militaristic.
"No."
"I know you have it Sherlock."
"Then get it for yourself." The taller man says folding his arms across his chest and leaning back into the chair. If John didn't know better he would have thought that was an seductive smirk on Sherlock's face, but he shakes his head and dives down onto Sherlock. Practically sitting on the other man's lap, John's hands fumble around beneath Sherlock. Coming first to his left back pocket, which is regrettable empty.
As John's hands slide between Sherlock's ass and the leather of the sofa towards the right pocket Sherlock Jumps up, and over the back of the chair.
"Well at least I know where it is now." John says, smirking. "Give it to me."
"No."
"Give it to me." John says with a low growl.
"No." Sherlock starts to say before John is bounding across the room, and leaping onto Sherlock, pinning him to the floor.
For a moment Sherlock is silent, except for his heavy breath and the pair of them stay completely still, taking each other in. John knows how this looks, himself spread over Sherlock, hands pinning wrists to the floor, in the middle of the sitting room.
"Just call and cancel you're already a half hour late."
"No. Sarah will understand." John says, but he feels his resolve slipping. Maybe it would be for the best. Just to stay home and watch telly with Sherlock. John watches Sherlock's face fall, as he rolls a bit and pulls John's phone out of his pocket.
"Sorry." Sherlock whispers gently, then pushes the doctor off him and walks into the kitchen. John thinks about following him, but instead goes to the door and grabs his coat. He hadn't seen Sherlock react like that before to anything and he was more than a little stunned.
Taking the door handle in his hand he calls over his shoulder, "Goodbye Sherlock."
There's no answer as John closes the door and hurries out into the street.
John and Sarah are sitting in a dimly lit pub at the bar and speaking lowly over a couple of drinks. John looks at his girlfriend and supposes that he is lucky. She's stuck with him even after he got her kidnapped, she's kind and beautiful, but something has always seemed a little wrong.
Sarah reaches over to him, and takes his hand. "Are you alright?" she asks as though she can read his thoughts, almost like Sherlock.
"I don't know Sarah." He says as he shakes his head, the beer and heavy food is making him tired and emotional.
"do you want to get out of here?"
John quickly agrees and pulls his wallet out to pay for their meals Sarah takes his hand again when he joins her and they head for the street. There are no cabs so Sarah suggests that they take a walk. John thinks briefly about how he would just like to go home to check on Sherlock and see if he is still angry with him.
"So what's going on?" the woman asks cheerily. John thinks about how to answer, should he tell her that Sherlock is angry with him, or upset, and John is worried about the tall detective?
"Nothing really. We've had some interesting cases."
"How's Sherlock?"
"Mad." John huffs, and the couple is quiet for a bit.
"Want to get a cab?" Sarah asks.
"Yes." John answers almost too quickly, but he doesn't think that Sarah has noticed. soon enough a cab rolls up, and being gentlemanly John steps forward and opens the door for Sarah. "Goodnight then Sarah." he says as she slides in and looks up at him expectantly.
"Aren't you coming with me?" she asks sounding affronted.
"Oh. I thought, I thought you wanted to go home."
"Yeah with you." she says smiling oddly. John mentally kicks himself. Of course she had meant to go home together, they had been sleeping together for over a month now.
"Ah, Sarah I'm so sorry." he begins.
"It's alright John, I can tell you're not really on form tonight. Go get some rest, and I'll see you at the surgery tomorrow." She leans up expectantly from inside the cab, her hands coming up around John's neck. for a moment he lets himself relax and thinks about how nice it would be to go home with her. Then the dark haired sociopath pops into his head. and As he is kissing Sarah he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.
"Good bye Sarah."
"Bye." John stands back and lets the door to the cab close.
Once John is snugly seated in seated in his own cab he pulls out his phone.
New Message: 10:13:
-SH
New Message: 10:14:
What the hell? How much have you had to drink?
-JW
There is no answer, God I hope he hasn't blacked out, John thinks as the cab makes a sharp turn.
New Message: 10:16:
Sherlock are you alright?
-JW
As The cab pulls onto Baker Street John realizes that Sherlock still hasn't texted him back, and panic sets in. John quickly jumps out and pays the cabbie. Looking up from the street John sees that all the lights in 221b are off, and dropping his cane by the door bounds up the stair case.
"Sherlock?" he calls as he enters the dark flat. There is no answer and he very quickly flicks the light on and calls out again.
"What?" Shouts the detective's low voice as Sherlock sits up from the couch looking disgruntled and angry.
"I thought you had been attacked or something."
"I was sleeping. Obviously." Sherlock says folding his arms across his chest and scowling at John. John edges his way towards him after shrugging out of his coat and realizes that Sherlock's eyes are red and raw.
"Are you high?" John asks realizing the symptoms.
"What?" Sherlock responds, affronted. "No of course not, why?"
"Your eyes. They're all red and puffy."
Sherlock shrugs, and turns away. "You know I'm clean." he says over his shoulder. Then realization hits John like a ton of bricks and he feels terrible.
Sherlock has been crying.