Sorry for the HUGE wait. I was very distracted by school and now Merlin is out and OMG soooo very epic XP But I am back on track, this chapter is here and the next one is one the way :)

As usual thanks so much for your reviews and please please please feel free to review again, I love to hear from ya :P

Sherlock is still not mine :'( Also I am not making any profit with this fanfic :P
Hope you enjoy.

Sherlock heard John shuffle down the stairs, limp worse than ever, until he reached their floor and moved rapidly to the kitchen. It didn't take much to deduce that the usual nightmares had driven him there, the events that had occurred in Afghanistan replaying in his mind.

He couldn't help but wonder briefly if the dreams were driving him away but that was quickly discarded. He was leaving because he was angry, disappointed even. The dreams were an after affect along with the limp.

Sherlock scowled at his doorway, lying slumped in his bed where he hadn't really been sleeping, tapping at his violin that he had no intention of playing. The shuffling noises in the kitchen went on until he found it was the sole focus of his concentration. It was insanity, lying in the dark and listening to the footsteps and wondering why they were so determined to walk away.

Insane, stupid, illogical.

Sherlock sprang to his feet with a light hiss, avoiding the clutter and mess that took up the majority of his floor. Stupid and illogical were things he wasn't- couldn't be, insane could be debated though he didn't care so much for Andersons small minded ideas.

Sherlock stood by his bed practically buzzing in place as the storm clouds rolled over his face and anger filled him in a clogging mass. Fury was cold, betrayal was burning and if he was battered by these emotions for much longer he felt he would literally explode. He felt like he was literally shrinking in place. Changing where he stood, or maybe he had already changed without even noticing the difference, because he was feeling again and it was John's fault.

He barely realized he was standing in the front room until he heard his voice break the suffocating silence with the shatter of broken glass.

"So when are you moving out then?"

John jumped, tensed and then his dark eyes flickered to Sherlock looking every bit as exhausted as they usually did after one of his nightmares. There was a lingering of something else there, fear? Hurt? Though why he should be hurt when he was the one leaving Sherlock the consulting detective would never know.

"What?" His voice was softer then Sherlock's, more mellow and mournful but Sherlock had no time for that now he was bundled up in his anger and betrayal and he was not about to crawl out until John was gone or staying here forever.

"You heard." Sherlock growled and the sound was positively filled with bitterness to his own ears.

John seemed to be in a state of shock. His facial features flickered through a series of emotions and somewhere along the way there was anger but the emotion seemed to be battling for dominance rather than his usual short fuse. He settled for disbelief for a moment pushing all the other useless emotions aside.

Sherlock practically growled in frustration before marching across the room to- to- where was he going again? His thoughts were lost, clouded by emotion from the first and now, where? Sit down, he had to sit down. Couch or armchair? Armchair he could scowl at John better.

By the time he fell in to his usual seat he was already scrabbling for his thoughts, John was going to leave/ John wanted to leave. His only…friend would be leaving him just like all the rest. He forced down the lump in his throat, he'd faced worse, world famous consulting detectives shouldn't get lumps in their throat.

He glared at John, John who was leaving, John who didn't care, he glared at the Doctor and ignored the flinch, ignored the sunken shoulders and baggy eyes and the fear. Because John was the one in the wrong, John made him care that he would leave. When he spoke next his voice was frosted with fury.

"Well?"

John said nothing.

Sherlock usually saw everything but he didn't see the moment it happened, later he could infer. John was hurt for whatever selfish reason that may be, the flash of pain in his eyes at Sherlock's words were as clear as ever and when John was hurt in proper warrior fashion he came back fighting. Anger that had been struggling for control so long was dragged to the front in a rush, John's eyes narrowed, any fear or weakness pushed away as his mouth pressed in to a firm line.

"Any reason you so suddenly want me out on the streets?"

"Hardly sudden, John. You have been contemplating leaving the flat for, I would say, well over a week. As you have yet to make your decision I thought I might press the subject. We are approaching the end of the month after all and Miss Hudson will want some forewarning."

Sherlock smiled the fake smile he used on Lestrade and murder suspects and watched John repress the urge to recoil at the sight.

"I don't remember ever mentioning wanting to leave." He growled as if holding out, pushing back the argument that would almost be inevitable in the circumstances.

But that wasn't what Sherlock wanted, waiting, he wanted them to argue, wanted John to shout, if anything then at least to see some measure of emotion back in his eyes, rather than misery and disappointment that seemed a constant in their current lives.

"I think we both know it's hardly necessary for you to voice your thoughts without already making them painfully obvious." John eyes narrowed and his teeth gritted but he made no move to speak again. Sherlock pushed harder, wanting to know… What exactly? Anything, everything, he wanted to know why, he wanted John to stop leaving him. "You're disappointed with me… again. This time though you actually show signs of giving up. Moving in with Harry?"

Sherlock hadn't expected the bark of bitter laughter from the Doctor, his eyes burning with…something. Something, for all his studies of human behavior why was it that John alone seemed to elude him? Sherlock focused on his annoyance and ignored the way the cold, harsh laughter made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"You really have no idea do you?" John snorted. He was still smiling, though to call it a smile wasn't quite right. A grimace maybe but not John's usual smile that brightened up his whole face until you couldn't help but smile back, this one was different and Sherlock didn't like it.

"Are you leaving?"

"No." John answered in something that only just fell short of a snarl.

That wasn't the final answer though; Sherlock knew that there was more that John just wouldn't say.

"You want to leave." He murmured matter of factly, "anyone would think you had only stayed this long for the financial benefits-"

"I've told you I'm not leaving Sherlock!"

"Then what else has changed?" Sherlock snapped.

John fell silent once again, jaw straining reflectively. He wanted to shout, wanted to walk out, Sherlock could see it in his eyes and knew the only thing holding him in his chair was a desperate need to see this through, and to win if at all possible. Maybe he had already won, he had stated that Sherlock had no idea what was going on and he was leaving-

"Why do you care?" The voice was flat, pressed through gritted teeth and Sherlock once again found himself staring in to furious flint like eyes, "You're a sociopath aren't you? You've told everyone enough." Sherlock glared, he didn't have an answer.

John shook his head irritably before standing. With a last scowl at Sherlock he strode from the room leaving his tea where he had left it, still steaming on the small table. Sherlock sat in silence glaring at the wall trying to convince himself he had won. It didn't work.

Sort of a filler chapter on top of being so late sorry guys but if all goes to plan we'll have Mycroft turning up next chapter to give Sherlock a quick kick so maybe that will help make it up to you.
Once again reviews are ALWAYS apriciated and I am very sorry for any and all spelling mistakes do feel free to call me out on them.

Hope you enjoyed
SQ