This isn't how things are supposed to be

Sherlock looked down, hands dancing nervously across his lap, but he did not say anything. "Please Sherlock, this is serious, I need to know how to help."

"Leave me alone," he said though his voice sounded unsure, a distinct lack of conviction as if he didn't really mean what he was saying. It was as if he was trying to imitate the man he usually was to try and convince John, or even himself, that there was really nothing to worry about. Of course there was, and he knew it, but it was humiliating, he couldn't bear the thought of people knowing he let emotions get a hold of him, that he let them drive him to such extremes so he could stay detached when he needed to.

John sighed; he knew this was going to be hard. "Ok, let's start with something simple, something a little more specific." That was something Sherlock could answer, it did not require him to bring any emotions into the equation, it was a simple fact.

"On and off since I was fourteen."

"Does anybody else know? Did you tell anyone when you first started?"

"No, Mycroft found out when I was sixteen. But then after a couple of years I learnt how to hide it better so I told him I stopped, he believed me."

"Why did you tell him you stopped?"

"I didn't want him interfering with my life." John smirked, that sounded like the Sherlock that he knew.

The two sat in silence for a while, a comfortable silence, John knew he wouldn't get much more out of Sherlock at that moment. If he felt it was an interrogation he would not cooperate and John needed him to cooperate if he had any hope of helping his friend recover. "Right, I'm going to make dinner, Bolognese sound ok to you?" asked John as he stood up from the settee.

"Not hungry," stated Sherlock childishly as he tucked his knees up to his chest, all but hugging his mug of tea, curling up in on himself.

"I don't give a damn, you're eating. You can have the choice of what we eat but if you don't choose it's Bolognese.

"I said I'm not hungry!" Sherlock shouted hurling the mug of tea at the wall, luckily he had almost finished so not much splashed up the wall.

"And I said that I don't care."

At this Sherlock threw himself onto the sofa in a lying position facing away from John, the doctor at first felt angry but then he saw Sherlock's shoulders shaking. Despite himself all of the anger suddenly drained away making him feel exhausted, maybe he'd just order a pizza instead, actually, that wasn't such a bad idea. Sherlock was quite partial to pepperoni pizza, and if there was some left in the fridge overnight it wasn't uncommon for one or two slices disappear, even with a case on. John grinned to himself but then it was wiped of his face when he saw Sherlock's vulnerable form. He really hoped he could help. There was nothing he wouldn't do to try. But for now John would have to play along with Sherlock's act of being angry instead of being upset. For now he'd have to pretend Sherlock had won and to do so he'd have to ignore him, pretend he was annoyed at him to lull the detective into a false sense of security. This went against he doctor's instinct. He wanted, no needed, to comfort his hurting friend but he was sure that such an act would be detrimental to the man's recovery. So, just for Sherlock, he'd have to leave him to hurt and go and order some pizza.

I hope you enjoyed that, I didn't think it was a very good chapter myself but I may update again tonight, just to make up for it. Thank you for all your reviews, it makes my day when I open my inbox and see those emails. :D