Jumpers-
Sherlock huffed in annoyance as he paced the non-carpeted space of floor in front of the stairs. His sock clad feet made little noise against the wooden floor beneath him but soon another loud sigh could be heard, echoing throughout the empty flat of 221B. This is ridiculous, Sherlock thought to himself and he halted his pacing.
Running a pale hand through his raven curls, Sherlock pivoted where he stood and forcibly made himself walk to the kitchen and throw himself into one of his experiments. Except that Sherlock couldn't concentrate, he ended up just staring blankly in the direction of the stairs from where he sat at the kitchen table.
John had gone to visit his sister. She was something or rather sober for such and such long- Sherlock hadn't paid much attention to what John had said because this was the third time in the last year and although Sherlock thought it every time, he never dared to tell John that she would just fall straight back into alcoholism the second John returned home. Sherlock never said anything but John always knew what he was thinking.
The third visit to his sister was different this time, though. John would be gone longer than Sherlock would believe necessary and even though Sherlock would never admit it to anyone and he was seriously struggling to admit it to himself, he was starting to miss his doctor.
Hence the pacing at the bottom of the stairs. Even though John and Sherlock shared a room, John still kept his favorite jumpers upstairs in his old bedroom. He was afraid Sherlock would mistake it for one of his other least favorites and pour chemicals all over it in the name of science, ruining it for all of eternity and John would never be able to wear the thing again.
There was a pregnant pause in Sherlock's train of thoughts before he abruptly shoved himself away from the kitchen table and stood again. Before his thoughts could catch up to him, he swiftly made his way back to the stairs and climbed them. Now at the top of the stairs, Sherlock took a breath and walked into John's old room.
The room way pretty much empty now, the bed was made in John's military style but there weren't any personal effects. John called it a guest room, and Sherlock just nodded his head and agreed with his doctor even though it was likely no one would ever use the room. Sherlock made his way over to John's old wardrobe and opened it slowly.
Inside the wardrobe where John's jumpers, neatly hung up on the coat rack. Sherlock reached forwards hesitantly and ran his fingers over the material of his black and white stripped one. Bow lips twitching briefly, Sherlock moved his fingers and trailed them over the one he wears at Christmas. Utterly ridiculous, Sherlock thought again as he pulled John's oatmeal cable knit jumper off the coat rack and brought it up to his nose to breath in the lingering sent that was pure John.
Carefully, Sherlock pulled John's jumper over his curls and twisted his body so he could get his arms into the sleeves comfortably. Fiddling with the hem of John's jumpers, Sherlock sat it neatly on his waist and laughed quietly. The sleeves were too short and it was really baggy on his lanky frame but Sherlock loved it. Closing John's old wardrobe behind him, Sherlock slowly made his way back down stairs with his nose buried in the collar of John's jumper.