Remorse
John stands in the kitchen for half an hour just crying. He can't bring himself to move from that spot; he can't stop himself from hearing Sherlock's words.
"Being sorry isn't going to take back how you've made me feel!" John hears in his head. He wipes his eyes and sniffles. He can't take back how he made Sherlock feel. He regrets his actions, all of them. He regrets making Sherlock go on a date with him. He regrets convincing Sherlock that he loves him. He regrets all of it.
John finally regains his thoughts and goes to bed. He's suddenly very tired despite the fact that it's only 7 PM, so he slips into bed without even thinking about it. He lies in the dark, only the faint light from the street streaming through the window, and falls asleep to the memory of Sherlock's arms around him.
Somewhere in his dreams, John hears the front door open and close. He opens his eyes and checks the clock; it's midnight.
Sherlock doesn't return home until 2 PM the next afternoon, while John's at work. He didn't sleep the night before, not that he needed it, but he does feel very tired. Sherlock changes into his usual pajamas and sits on the couch to check his emails.
Two hours later, John returns home. He silently pads up the stairs and when he opens the door, he nearly jumps at the site of Sherlock on the sofa.
"Did I startle you?" Sherlock asks.
John nods, stepping further into the living room.
"I do still live here, you know," Sherlock says, redirecting his attention to his emails.
John stands next to the sofa and bites his lip, at a loss of words.
Sherlock looks at John impatiently. "Yes?"
"I…" John tries. "I just…"
"Do you have something to say or are you trying to waste my time?"
John blinks at him. Anger rises in John that he tries to suppress.
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "If you're going to tell me you're sorry again, save it. At least choose different verbs."
"Can I at least try to tell you how sorry I am today?" John asks through gritted teeth.
"Find a thesaurus first. There's one in my bedroom."
John takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes. "You know what, Sherlock? Fine," John says. "Be angry. Never be with me again, that's fine. I can absolutely promise you that I'd never, ever do anything stupid again. I completely regret what I did. And yes, I am sorry. But you need to stop treating me like this, Sherlock. Whether we're together romantically or not, we're still meant to be together. I know you've never believed that, even when Mrs. Hudson said it a few years ago, but we're meant to at least be friends, Sherlock. Fate brought us together, and I believe that. So please, be my friend."
Sherlock looks at John and listens to everything he says. John's right, Sherlock thinks. "I don't trust you, John. We're not a rightful fit romantically. I can't be with someone I don't trust."
"I'm not asking you to anymore, Sherlock. I just want to be able to go on cases and have you consult me for my opinion rather than boss me around as payback for hurting you in our personal life."
Sherlock nods. "You are my friend, John. You're all I have."
"I know. And I'm sorry that the only person you can count on let you down. I'm saying that as your friend, not as your…" John waves a hand trying to dismiss his confusion. "Your ex…whatever. I'm genuinely sorry because being hurt sucks. The arse who hurt you deserves to miss you."
Sherlock half smiles. "Thank you," he says.
John nods and turns to head upstairs. He gets halfway up the stairs when he hears Sherlock shout, "Friends make other friends tea!"
John, really still apologizing to Sherlock, smiles and turns back down the stairs. "Wanker," he mutters as he passes Sherlock on the way to the kitchen.
*So much angst? One more chapter.