John Watson had always considered himself a man who did not get jealous.

Granted, he had never had any reason to. He hadn't had any serious relationship when he was younger, and after he came back from Afghanistan, a relationship wasn't exactly a priority. But of course, everything changed when he met Sherlock.

Or more importantly, everything changed when they met Irene Adler.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, John"

With a tired sigh, John closed his laptop, left it on the coffee table, and turned his attention to Sherlock, who was sprawled on the sofa, his gaze unfocused.

"Feel free to explain yourself, whenever you feel like it."

Sherlock distractedly glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. "What I meant is that I observed. You have been acting estrange since we left the Adler residence, but you completely withdrawn the moment you saw her on our bed."

"Have I?"

Sherlock huffed. "Do I have to remind you that I'm very much uninterested in sex? I have no intention of sleeping with Mrs. Adler," he said, finally looking at John, "so whatever it is that is worrying you, stop. Nothing will happen. I have no interest in her beyond an intellectual level."

And that, John mused, was exactly the problem.

For someone as observant as Sherlock, John was surprised he had been so utterly wrong about the reason behind his concern.

He knew Sherlock would never sleep with Adler, he had no doubts about that in his mind. Sherlock had proved how uninterested in sex he was, and that was fine.

His worry came from the knowledge that, to Sherlock, who was so beyond the physical, the mind held much more value than the body. And Sherlock had shown how much he admired Adler's mind, how brilliant he thought she was. How could he, average John Watson, ever compete with that? He had always had doubts about the possibility of a relationship between them, but he had kept those worries in the back of his mind since Sherlock kissed him. But now, there was someone else interested in him, who wasn't scared off by his singular mind, and who could actually compete with him in an intellectual level. And that interest went both ways. Why wouldn't Sherlock want to be with someone like her? What could John possibly offer him that was better than what she had to offer?

"I'm sorry," John said. "About Adler."

"It's a great loss."

For the world or for you?

"I know you... cared about-"

"Must we have this discussion again" Sherlock said, a tinge of exasperation in his voice. "She had a brilliant mind, and that was it. I'm sorry she's dead, but empathically, I couldn't care less."

"All right."

He rolled over, his back to Sherlock, and a few seconds later he heard a sigh and felt his arm encircling his waist.

"It's funny to me how you get jealous so easily when I'm the one who has more to be worried about."

"Hmm?"

"You've dated before. In fact, you were dating Sarah a few months before we got together."

"I've never had a serious relationship before you. Even with Sarah... nothing happened. I was too busy pinning over my eccentric flat mate."

Sherlock huffed, and placed a soft kiss on the nape of his neck.

"I've never had any relationship, period. You're the only one who's ever captured my interest, John. Why can't you understand that?"

But I'm not the only one anymore. And what's going to happen when the interest fades away?

Irene Adler wasn't dead.

While the revelation had worried him a bit, he was glad it meant Sherlock's silent brooding would stop- until he found out that Sherlock knew, because he had been the on to save her. The fact that Sherlock had lied to him about it hurt even more than the truth- that Sherlock did care about her, enough to risk his life to save her and keep her safe, and lie to him about it.

He knew he was being selfish. He was thankful that Sherlock had found someone who he could relate to, someone who understood what it was like inside his head, because while it pained him, he knew he could never be what Sherlock need in that aspect.

In fact, that was the core of it. He would never feel good enough, because he would never be able to give him what he needed. On cases, he was merely a sounding board; he would never be able to actually participate in his deductions, to have an input, because he wasn't smart enough. And while he knew physical appearance didn't interest Sherlock that much, he couldn't help but feel a small ache every time he looked a his wounded shoulder, at how average-looking he was compared to Sherlock.

And looking at Irene Adler, who had captured Sherlock's attention the moment he laid eyes on her, had caused him to face the thoughts that he had been trying so hard to ignore.

"So," John said, "she's alive."

"John-"

"You lied."

"It was necessary. And may I remind you, that you lied-"

"Because I was trying to protect you," he snapped. He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. "You didn't trust me, and you kept lying afterwards."

"John, you're taking this out of proportion."

"Are you in love with her?" He regretted it as soon as the question left his lips, and instantly felt foolish about it.

Sherlock stared calmly at him, his expression turning serious. "I think I have underestimated how worried you truly were. This isn't solely about jealousy, is it?" He walked up to him, his eyes roaming over his face. "You are genuinely upset about it. You truly think I have feelings for her, don't you?"

John lowered his gaze, taking a step back. "I don't want to talk about this. Forget it, just- delete it." He turned to leave, but Sherlock caught his wrist, pulling him closer again.

"John, talk to me."

"Let go."

"John-"

He tugged his wrist off Sherlock's grip. "Why? Why are you with me, when you could be with someone like her? I have nothing to offer you." He shook his head, lowering his gaze again. "We both know all you care about is this," he said, pressing a finger to his temple, "and I'm not smart, I'm not- but she is. You keep telling me how brilliant she is... and how could I ever compete with that?" he whispered.

Sherlock tentatively took a step towards him. He grabbed his chin and tilted his face up, seeking his eyes. "Is that how you have been feeling all this time?" John nodded. "Why didn't you tell me? You're the one who always says we should be honest with each other."

"Because it's stupid, and I though you would mock me for it. And... I was scared."

Sherlock's hand moved to cup John's cheek, brushing his cheek with his thumb. "You're an idiot," he said, without his usual bite. "I won't deny I admire her mind. I find it fascinating. But," he added, "that's all there is. I saved her because I do think it would have been a great loss if she had died, if a mind like hers would have been wasted like that. If she had died, yes, I would have been upset. But if something happened to you, John, anything... I don't think I would ever recover. I would curl into a ball and rot, because I can't fathom a world without you in it."

John let out a shaky breath. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against Sherlock's. "I am an idiot."

"You are. And I love that about you. I don't think our relationship would work if you were more like me, or Mrs. Adler, John. You're fine just as you are."

"I love you," John breathed out, merely a whisper.

Sherlock pulled back a bit and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I know."

Author's notes:

I have noticed that there has been too much John whump (sorry. I do love John whump). The next few chapters won't be nearly as angsty as these past ones, but there will be more angst (including Sherlock whump) in the future. Sorry.
Please let me know if you see any mistakes, and constructive criticism is more than welcome.
Hope you enjoy x