A few weeks later, after having an awkward dance of avoiding each other, John handed Sherlock a cheque. 'What's this?' Sherlock scanned the piece of paper, it was payable to him, but far too much to be rent. 'I… I'm moving out, I thought I'd give you a few months, because it might take you a while to find someone, a new flatmate, and I've got a flat, it's nice, a bit smaller than this, but… yeah.' John walked out, heading for work. 'I think we both need some space' he called behind him.

Sherlock sat for a while in the kitchen, he definitely didn't want John to go, all he could think to do was to beg him never to leave, so he kept his mouth shut. How was he supposed to find a new flatmate? Someone to replace John, he couldn't… and he didn't want to. He certainly didn't want any space, he wanted to be as close to John as humanly possible. At all times.

Avoiding Sherlock was pretty easy, until he started doing huge experiments in every room of the flat, John found mould experiments on the window sill in his bedroom, and Sherlock checking them at 2am. He was not amused.

He got a call from his new landlord saying that the flat was ready early, and decided to move right away. He had packed the majority of his possessions already, it was just a few clothes that were left to go in boxes.

'Sherlock I'm going to move early, I got a call this morning, the flat is ready, and I thought no time like the present. I'm going to go on Friday.' John walked around the living room picking up various books and papers and stacking them on the desk, and then collecting the discarded mugs of tea and taking them to the sink.

'Stop moving my things John' Sherlock hadn't seemed to have been listening, but now he frowned up at John from his upside down position on the sofa.

'Well don't worry, I'll be out of your hair soon enough, now go take a shower, you've been wearing those same pyjamas for three days.' Sherlock grimaced but didn't reply, or move for that matter. The atmosphere in the flat was tense and John decided to go out and get some shopping and as he headed out of the door he shouted back to Sherlock 'You'll have to start shopping for yourself you know.'

As John disappeared down the stairs Sherlock rolled over and frowned. He was trying to think of a way to make John stay, but he didn't know what he was doing, and John seemed to be perfectly happy moving out. Sherlock knew he had to do something though, he rolled off the sofa and picked up the phone, dialling Lestrade.

'Lestrade?'

'I haven't got any cases for you at the moment, unless you want to look over these cold cases or something?'

'No, I need your help'

'Sherlock? Are you alright, what's going on? Are you in dange—' Lestrade sounded almost panicky, but Sherlock cut him off with a annoyed 'No.' and then sighed and continued 'It's about John, he's moving out and I would like to arrange something to see him off, as I am not well versed in the social norms I was wondering if you could help me to organise something that John would enjoy.'

'Uh yeah, sure… Why don't you just have drinks at the flat? Invite everyone, like at Christmas? I'm sure John would appreciate a small gathering to send him on his way' He sounded a little dismayed but carried on planning the 'party' with Sherlock for another thirty minutes. When Sherlock got off the phone he was thoroughly tired of human interaction for one day, so he took a shower and retired to his bedroom to think.

He was led on his back on the side of his bed that wasn't covered in case files and papers, 'I've got it!' he exclaimed, snapping his eyes open. It was perfect, John was always so enthusiastic about having dinner, Sherlock could make dinner, it was only simple chemistry, and then John was sure to realise that leaving was the stupidest idea he had ever had, and he would stay.

'You want to make John dinner?' the DI said sceptically, 'YES! Now tell me what his favourite food is.' Sherlock sounded like a frustrated teenager whose parents were annoying him.

'Spaghetti Bolognese I think Sherlock, are… are you sure you'll be alright cooking?'

'Don't be patronising Lestrade, afternoon.' Sherlock stalked out of the office and hailed a cab outside NSY. On the ride home he wrote a mental list of ingredients and plotted out the exact timing, he then rang around John's friends, telling them to tell him they were busy on Friday, if he asked, and simultaneously inviting them to the get together. He thought he had better invite Sarah but he didn't have her number, he made a mental note to get it from John's phone later.

When Sherlock rang Sarah later she was all too happy to come. 'He'll love that Sherlock, do you mind if I bring my new man?' Sherlock stopped and considered for a minute, how would John react? No, wait, it was the perfect way to force John to spend the evening sat with him. 'That'll be fine, see you there' Sherlock hung up and returned to the kitchen to complete the experiment he was holding, John had complained about it earlier when he had found 4 pigs' tongues sitting on a dish on the table.

'Who were you on the phone to?' John looked at Sherlock suspiciously from where he was sitting in his armchair. 'Molly, I had to check some things about some body parts she's obtaining for me, why?' Sherlock continued to look down at his experiment, keeping calm and cool, it was okay, John wouldn't suspect a thing. It was a Thursday night and John was usually out by now, curious. 'Oh…' John seemed subdued and went back to reading his book.

John wasn't really paying attention to what he was reading and he had read the same line over ten times, but not really absorbed it. 'John, you haven't turned the page in fifteen minutes' Sherlock had moved over to his armchair whilst John had been absorbed in his thoughts. He could feel Sherlock trying to deduce him, and felt a little uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. John looked up and his eyes met with the icy blue pools of the man opposite him, they stayed still, lost in each other's eyes for longer than John deemed to be 'just friends' but he shook himself out of it and got up. 'I'm just going for a walk' he blurted quickly and practically ran from the flat. Sherlock got up and watched John from the window, he stopped on the pavement outside the flat and just stood there for a moment, before seemingly deciding to walk off down Baker Street. I love you. Sherlock knew it was true, but it was a vulnerable thought, sentiment. He didn't really want to accept it, even less so because there was no definite reply of I love you too. He felt exposed and raw, but quickly plastered on a cold exterior when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Mycroft entered the flat and smiled, it seemed to be genuine enough, curious, he picked his way over the various scattered papers on the floor and then spoke 'I hear you're having a small arrangement for John's leaving, now that Gregory and I are a unit, I was wondering if it would be acceptable for me to attend.' Sherlock spun round and looked at Mycroft accusingly, 'You came all the way here, just to ask me that?'

'And to see if you're okay, dear brother.'

'I'm fine Mycroft, why wouldn't I be?' Sherlock scowled and noticed a hint of concern behind Mycroft's sharp façade 'You can come, now go away.' He picked up his violin and began plucking it violently, another strange look from Mycroft and then he turned and left. Sherlock picked up his bow and began to play a cold sharp tune.