It feels like it's been forever since I've written for this! My other stories remain neglected but at least I can come up with new chapters for this. I apologize for all this waiting, and hopefully my writing is still living up to expectations. Enjoy!
"...which you can tell by the slight limp visible in the footprints. Any other irritatingly stupid questions?" Sherlock looked around at the various police officers staring at him with a mixture of awe and hate. He tried to feel triumphant, and tried to enjoy the usual post case high. However this time there was something that kept him from enjoying the moment.
For starters, he was currently out of his usual London territory in order to cater to a particularly interesting case in the country. This meant that the police force was unaccustomed to dealing with him and therefore:
1. Even more slow-witted than the Yard
2. Reluctant to allow him at the crime scene
3. Silent and stupid
It wasn't like he wanted them to thank him, just a bit of sarcasm or anything at all. Sherlock nearly found himself missing Anderson, if only because he wanted to put somebody down.
The worst part of the whole event was that John had decided to stay home to keep up with work. In Sherlock's mind this was an open betrayal, for how could work be more important than him?
Rather than stick around and deal with country officers for any extended period of time, Sherlock decided to retreat back to his hotel room. There was no point in trying to get home at this late hour, so he'd stay one more night before returning to the city.
Sherlock tossed his coat and scarf onto a nearby chair before kicking off his shoes and perching on the edge of the bed.
John probably stayed home so he could cater to that new girl's whims. Whatever her name is. She needs to leave, she's interrupting my work. He thought bitterly.
Although Sherlock would never admit it to anyone else, he had decided to admit to himself that he cared for John Watson a lot more than he should. This was a problem because the more he fawned over and admired the army doctor, the more he became frustrated that his affections were unanswered. It's not as though he was stupid enough to believe that John would love him back, he just wanted him to be a more attentive friend. He wanted John to care when he went far away on a case, wanted him to come along to shield him from words like "freak", to compliment him, to be someone with which he could joke about the stupidity of normal people.
Sherlock sighed and gave into the urge, pulling his phone from his pocket and firing off a quick almost innocent text.
Quick. Tell me I'm brilliant. I believe I have rendered everyone here mute, so I'd appreciate a reminder that people can talk.
-SH
The reply took what was to Sherlock an agonizing amount of time, although in reality it was only ten minutes. It read:
The depths of your humility. I'm only guessing here but you did something rude didn't you?
-JW
I do recall telling you to call me brilliant?
-SH
Sherlock smirked, being intolerable was what he was best at. Not to mention that he needed to hear just one compliment from John before he could go back to not caring what anyone thought.
Fine. You're brilliant. And I'm busy.
-JW
Never start a sentence with "and", it's bad grammar.
-SH
Busy with what?
-SH
On a date I presume. A waste of time.
-SH
There was no reply, and Sherlock felt his shoulders sink ever so slightly. Emotion was a fickle thing, and Sherlock hated that he'd become prey to it. He couldn't afford such weakness.
The detective tossed his phone aside and settled against the pillows, preparing for a sleepless night of pondering.
Three hours later, his phone began buzzing.
His pride prevented him from answering right away. After another fifteen minutes he allowed himself to read the messages, though whether or not he would answer them was doubtful.
Date went well.
-JW
Sherlock sneered, why should he care? Why should it matter what dull and mundane things John and his new girlfriend were doing? Why was John so focused on this girl and not him? Was she really more important?
You're boring me.
-SH
Just thought I would tell you. You know, like what normal friends do.
-JW
Sherlock's lip curled in displeasure.
Normal?
-SH
Yes. Normal. Are you above the word?
-JW
I'd like to think so.
-SH
I am just normal to you?
-SH
What else would you be, Sherlock?
-JW
Sherlock glared at the screen like it had caused him a personal affront. It appeared he had offended John and in turn John sought to offend him. Sherlock gripped the phone so hard he almost imagined the plastic casing would crack. For a moment he considered the more logical option of tossing the phone away and ignoring the insult, but for once emotion won out and maybe that was because John made him so crazy.
I certainly hope I'm not as normal and boring as the girl you shagged tonight.
-SH
It felt good being impulsive and angry, so Sherlock kept writing.
After all you could tell how much was wrong with her after one glance. Habitual nail biter, a dieter on the border of an eating disorder, self esteem issues, cheated on her last boyfriend. Honestly, it's as though you seek out the worst of womankind.
-SH
Sherlock smirked, it felt good to insult the woman stealing John's affections. Even if John didn't return his feelings or even if John grew angry with him at least he could still lash out at something.
Did you get that out of your system?
-JW
I'll take the silence and pouting as a yes.
-JW
John, I needed you here today.
-SH
Was what the next message read. Following shortly after was:
Because your input is often times not worthless, and the case is clearly more important than your dating life.
-SH
The two didn't talk for the rest of the night.
Sherlock returned to Baker Street the next day, happy to be back in the city where crime was frequent. Even if the countryside held interesting cases, for the most part they came once in a blue moon and that was simply not enough to sate the detective's hunger for work.
He greeted Mrs. Hudson at the door before walking up the stairs to his flat. He was looking forward to taking his violin in hand to play one of the somber slow songs he played as he thought to himself. However when he reached forward to open the door, it swung open swiftly and startled the detective.
John was standing on the other side of the door with his arms crossed and his phone in hand.
"Are we going to talk about this now?" He asked. He looked cross and confused.
"Talk about what?" Sherlock pushed past John, his voice uninterested. Whatever John was going on about, whether it was hands in the fridge or chemicals in the kettle, it wasn't intriguing at the moment.
"I don't know, about this?" John thrust the phone into Sherlock's view, and the detective ran his eyes over the message. He recognized the first half of it, but as he read the second half his face flushed a faint red and his mind began racing for explanations.
Because your input is often times not worthless, and I am clearly more important than your dating life.
-SH
That was his text, and his signature, but that last part...surely he had said "case" not "I". Didn't he? Was it possible during the heat of the moment he'd typed the wrong thing? Sherlock turned his head away from the Freudian slip and found an instant interest in the floor.
"What about it?" He asked innocently, already feeling doomed.
"Is there something you want to say?" John demanded, the way a parent might demand an apology from a misbehaving child.
"What do you expect me to say?" Sherlock allowed his eyes to drift up to John, he tried to deduce the man's emotions but it was hard at this moment. The air seemed a little too thick and the space between the two of them was a little too small.
"Do you want my attention?" John asked. Sherlock remained quiet so John repeated himself. "Do you want my attention, Sherlock? All of it?"
"Does it look like I require attention like some rabbit?" Sherlock hissed back.
"That's what it looks like to me, you brilliant ridiculous man." John's face softened, and then he began to laugh. Sherlock's face grew puzzled and a little annoyed.
"What's so funny?" He growled, and John smiled up at the taller man.
"So, it didn't take you very long to solve that country case did it? You're too clever for your own good. Brilliant, fantastic, amazing." He smirked.
"John?" Sherlock was blushing though he didn't realize it.
"Is that why you like me around? To compliment you?" John shook his head. "Do you need me to pay attention to you Sherlock? Is that why you scare off all my dates?"
"Don't put so much worth into a text message." Sherlock snapped, turning to retreat to his bedroom. However, John caught him by his coat sleeve and turned him back around.
"I'm not going to see Darcy again." John chuckled.
So that was her name. Sherlock couldn't help but think.
"Why does this involve me?" He asked coldly.
"Because, that means I can spend my days following you around making sure your ego is thoroughly boosted." John replied. "You seem to need it."
"What makes you think-"
"Sherlock, you're amazing." John grinned as the detective's face lowered, trying to hide it's redness. "You're also a vain little sod, but I think I can deal with that."
Sherlock studied the doctor. With one text message he had managed to free himself of the irksome woman keeping John from cases, and was able to guarantee John's participation in future cases.
This seemed like progress.