John was stunned. Almost speechless. "Wha-you...Sherlock!" The doctor's face was crumpled in confusion. "You were the person who told me to go!" Sherlock didn't move; his eyes were still locked on John. "You were the person who convinced me to go, and now less than 24 hours before, you change your mind?" The detective opened his mouth before abruptly closing it. This earned a frustrated sigh off of John. "Look, Sherlock, I've already confirmed my stay there, the food is planned, my room is set up and loads of money has been spent on my accommodation and printing sheets for my lessons. I can't just back out now; it's too late." John watched ebony curls engulf Sherlock's face as he bowed his head down to his hands. "What's happened, Sherlock? Why don't you want me to go?" Sherlock hesitated before answering, something that is unlike him. He tapped a random beat on the surface of the table with his fingers. He was thinking for a suitable answer that didn't make him seem as selfish as he was being. The fact that he won't be with John for a month sent his stomach plummeting; his heart to his throat. Every time he imagined waking up to an empty flat with not a doctor in sight, he had to hold back tears. Mrs Hudson couldn't be more right: this opportunity will open doors. Behind these doors will be even more opportunities, more trips, more time away from each other. It hurt. There was always the option of going with him to other ones, but it would be very limited in places other than London to work. It would be difficult to solve cases without talking them through with Lestrade in person. Sherlock wouldn't be able to see crime scenes in real life, making them more difficult to observe, more difficult to deduce and more difficult to solve. He was fully aware of his selfishness; he didn't care though. Seeing John after 3 years made Sherlock discover that life was just dull, mundane and uneventful without his trusty blond by his side. He wanted as much time physically possible with John.

"Sherlock?" John halted his racing mind.

"I'll miss you." The detective replied honestly. He was then given a sympathetic smile. John reached across the table to put his hand over Sherlock's. He gripped tightly.

"I will too; but trust me, the month will just fly by-"

"It will for you."

"And you too," John insisted. "This will be good for both of us, Sherlock. We'll get money, you'll get some peace and I will get more opportunities-"

Sherlock sighed irritably. "That's why I don't want you to go!"

"What?" John looked hurt. "Oh, so you don't want me to have good job opportunities, you don't want me to progress...what's wrong with you? You don't want be to be happy, Sherlock? Is that it?"

At that point, Sherlock lost it. He didn't care how selfish he sounded. "Yes, John. That's exactly it." He raised his voice slightly. "In all honesty, I don't want you to spend time away from me. I can see exactly what's going to happen! You're just going to become more and more known and higher in demand. You will meet more people, more people will want to meet you and guess what, John? I may even end up with competition!"

John stared at the man in front of him in disbelief. "Oh don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not! Take it from the superior mind!"

Anger now simmered in John. "Listen, I have to put up with your shit every day, you pompous arse! Surely the fact that I'm still here shows that I care about you, otherwise I'd be with someone else right now!"

Sherlock was now the one who was hurt. In fact, 'hurt' was an understatement. "Well fine! Go! Have a nice break from my shit! And yeah, clearly I'm your whole world if you refer to me as a pompous arse!" John immediately regretted letting his anger take control. The rage got too much for him; he needed to leave before he did something else he regretted. He needed to cool down. The doctor aggressively pushed his chair backwards and stood up before storming towards the door of the restaurant.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock demanded.

"I'm going to finish packing!" John yelled, more harshly than intended.

"You left your coat at Angelo's." Sherlock tossed the coat onto John's bed.

"Thank you." The doctor replied as Sherlock turned to leave. "Sherlock, wait."

The man remained silent; he didn't turn to face the guilty blond. His only acknowledgement was stopping in his tracks.

"I'm sorry for what happened."

"Oh no, it's fine." Sherlock replied icily, "You were just angry. You lost control."

"Yes," John confirmed. "It was wrong and I'm sorr-"

"I mean I can't blame you, it must be easy to be angered when you're constantly around my pompous nature."

"Sherlock-"

"It's fine John!" He called as he made his way downstairs. John could easily decipher the pain and anger in the detective's voice. Most people couldn't; Sherlock would sound blank to them. Emotionless. John however was the only exception; most of the time, he could read Sherlock's emotions as easily as he could read a book.

"I thought you two were going out," Mrs Hudson was dusting the shelves of 221B as she spoke to a rather emotionally confused detective. "Did you have another domestic?" Sherlock grunted in response, trying to concentrate on his book. Sentiment. The man scowled. It weakens you; hurts you. Just like how John hurt him. Lack of concentration. Anger. Pain. Oh how love was a disadvantage. Sherlock hated the impact it had on him. He could barely read without being distracted, he certainly couldn't solve a case. Isolation. That's what I need. Isolation to compose myself. John's departure was the perfect opportunity to help the detective calm down. Despite the fact that Sherlock absolutely despised the thought of John gone for a while, he knew it would be for the best; for both of them. Yes, he was still selfish and yes, he wanted John Watson all to himself, but that obviously wasn't going to happen. He tried to block the desire in his mind because of this; the anger which blinded his heart helped. Unfortunately, he knew that it wasn't going to last and a few days later he will yearn for the doctor, suffer with his broken heart after the anger dissipates through his silent tears. The detective oh so desperately wanted to eliminate John's hurtful words from his brain but it seemed impossible. Sentiment was like a shield; an encryption on a file that could not possibly be deleted without access. Sherlock lay back in defeat after Mrs Hudson left. He finally let his tears spill...Late afternoon eventually struck; the horizon began to glow softly as the sun dipped behind it. Despite the warm sun softening the features in the lounge, the air was cruel, bitter and icy. John had finally finished packing and Sherlock was fully aware of it. There was no more cursing and no more crashing from above. One would think he was now relaxing, if there weren't rhythmic thumps through the thin ceiling. What the raven-haired man below could hear as he stared into the hungry fireplace, was anxious pacing. He sighed, trying to convince himself that he shouldn't feel guilty for putting John in this position. Sherlock knew of his compulsive nature and the fact that he was selfish; he also knew that many people disliked him for that. John was the only person he trusted, the only person who would willingly protect Sherlock. The fact that he said those hurtful words in Angelo's made Sherlock believe that John deserved a bit of guilt. He couldn't shake of his own though, for making John upset angry and confused. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair as each nervous step through the ceiling made him feel worse. After what felt like hours, the pacing stopped, much to Sherlock's relief. Minutes later he turned his head to a familiar voice which caught his attention. "Sherlock." John was stood in the doorway; he manipulated his posture by straightening his back to make him appear more confident. His arms were folded-a sign of defence. In addition, John was unaware of his foot which was subtly tapping on the carpet, revealing that his confident and strong body language was created to mask his truly nervous state. "Hello, John." The detective's voice now sounded exhausted

"Would you like dinner?"

"No, thank you."

"Ok..."John paused. "Sherlock," the man responded with an exaggerated sigh. "I know I shouldn't have lost my temper and insulted you, but you're not the only one who's been hurt." Sherlock looked up. "You were being selfish, Sherlock. You weren't happy for me, in fact, you didn't want me to have any success." The detective nodded sharply before getting to his feet and walking over to the window. Water vapour had condensed on the glass due to the contrast of the freezing air outside and the heated room. "That's it then?" anger once again grew within John.

"What else do you want me to do, John?"

The doctor scoffed. "Apologise, for a start!"

"Sometimes apologies don't fix things."

"No," John agreed. "But it shows that the person actually cares."

"So why haven't you?" Sherlock retorted sharply. "You and I both know that you haven't come down here to apologise, you've come down here to try and put some of your guilt on me."

"I-I" John was left speechless. "That's not true."

"Do you know what I think, John?" The man spun around to face the doctor.

"I don't know, Sherlock, what do you think?" John's voice had turned cold.

"I think you don't want to apologise! You felt good to reveal what you thought of me, didn't you?"

"Oh, don't be stupid! I was angry! I was upset and confused so naturally I would want to say something to cause a bit of defence!"

"But you didn't have to think, John. Those word flowed from your mouth as swiftly as water down a river. You didn't need to think of those insults because you've already thought it. You didn't need to think about it; you didn't make it up."

"Sherlock...I-"

"It's fine, John." A hint of sarcasm in his voice. "It's not like I haven't had offensive remarks thrown at me before. I've become used to it."

John felt sick as he was flooded with shame. He understood now; he understood why the brilliant Sherlock Holmes who normally doesn't let anything bother him seemed so pained at John's words. Besides Mrs. Hudson, John was all Sherlock had. Of course he had Molly, Lestrade and Mycroft as well, but they weren't as trustworthy. They weren't as loving. They provided help but never praise and appreciation like John did. They never protected him from verbal abuse from others; John however took those hurtful words and turned them into positive ones while giving Sherlock sympathy and praise for being so unique. Sherlock always appreciated it when John described him as special and his deductions as 'brilliant' or 'outstanding' and every other positive adjective under the sun. John was his loving shield; his only protection. By offending Sherlock that afternoon, John may have made Sherlock lose a bit of hope and trust in him. Suddenly John saw Sherlock in a different light. Vulnerable; almost child-like.

"Sherlock, I'm so sorry. Really, I am..." The lovely inky curls that John admired bounced as Sherlock subtly nodded his head. He avoided John's eye contact entirely.

"Goodnight, John." His voice was close to a pained whisper. He reached for his violin beside him and started gliding his bow across it's strings.

'How do you feel about the violin?'

'...Sorry?'

'I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't speak for days on end..'

The memory was so vivid, it made John smile. He admired the melody before leaving the man to his privacy. He obviously wanted time to think. "Goodnight, Sherlock."

The next morning, John gave Mrs Hudson a warm goodbye. Sherlock watched out of the window as John walked down the street; he endeavoured to compose himself but he was failing. As he watched John walk up to a taxi, suitcase in hand, tears began to blur his vision. John glanced over his shoulder before getting in; he looked in the window to see Sherlock, clutching an envelope in his hands that was slipped under his door minutes before...