John had surpassed worried. It wasn't like Sherlock to not text or call or let somebody know where the hell he was and when he would be getting back. John couldn't help but think the worst. What if he's been hurt? What if something happened when he was off working on some case only he knew about? No one would know where he is. What if he's been kidnapped? John knew he shouldn't worry so much, but Sherlock would nearly always let at least John know where he'd be at.
John checked his phone every two minutes, checking for messages or calls and checking to see how long Sherlock had been gone. He left at 8 this morning. It's been over 12 hours, something must have gone wrong. John resisted the urge to call Mycroft. He knew that he'd be brushed off immediately and be treated like a child by his flatmate's brother. Sometimes it paid to have Mycroft there but most times he was reluctant to help and came off as impatient and like he couldn't and shouldn't be bothered by peasants like his brother's associates.
John knew that he could call Lestrade, but he didn't want it to sound like he was clinging desperately to Sherlock. He knew that there'd only be more rumors as a result of being worried. John couldn't help but be attached to Sherlock, but he knew that that was a line that he could not cross. But even with not crossing that line, it was still perfectly acceptable for him to be worried and concerned for Sherlock's well being.
Suddenly, John heard a stomping coming up the stairs. Sherlock slammed the door opened and yelled, "JAAAAAWN!" Sherlock stumbled to the couch and collapsed on it.
John walked over. "Sherlock, where the hell were you?"
Sherlock looked up, eyes looking glazed. "Hello there, John. I was dragged against my will to go and get a drink with...some people. On a separate and more important subject, we need jam, John. And we need it now." Sherlock looked as serious as someone drunk out of their mind could. "Also, on a very important subject, John," Sherlock paused. "I need to tell you something. Something very important. John...I more or less love you." Sherlock closed his eyes.
John stood in front of him, almost in shock. First of all, Sherlock drunk? Definitely a sight to see. Second, could what Sherlock said be true if he was drunk? "I...I love you too, Sherlock." Sherlock's eyelids fluttered slightly and smiled, seeming to understand what John was talking about.
"Now that that's settled, the jam will have to wait until tomorrow because I have a feeling that I will fall asleep."
Staying true to his word, Sherlock was soon asleep. And John was wide awake, feeling overjoyed.