John lay on his back, arms folded under his head. "Yes, Sherlock, what is it?" He called, staring at the ceiling.

"I brought tea?" he asked meekly. "An apology for yelling at you?"

John sat up, making room for Sherlock on his bed. "Well, that's fine. Though I wished you would just tell me what's bothering you, Lockie." He shrugged a bit. "I'm your friend, remember? And you are mine. My best friend."

Sherlock sat down, giving John one of the mugs and hesitating before sitting down on the edge. "It's nothing, John. Nothing…nothing you can change." He took a sip of his tea, focusing on the mug. "I'm sorry if I'm different. I don't mean to be touchy."

John sipped his tea and gazed at his friend. "That's alright, I'm not angry, just worried. You can talk to me, you know."

Sherlock caved, biting his lower lip and staring at his feet. "I'm thinking of dropping out of Uni."

John's eyes widened, but he managed to keep his voice even. "Okay. Erm…why would you do that?"

"Because everyone there hates me."

"Sherlock..." John fully faced his friend, and gently held his beautiful face in his calloused hands. "Why did you never tell me before?" His thumbs rubbed his cheekbones, ever so gently.

There was a time when Sherlock would have loved John's gentle touch, and enjoyed it, but now – knowing it was given to dozens of other women – he no longer felt special when the young soldier was so gentle with him. He averted his gaze, "What were you ever going to do about it, half way across the world?" He sighed a bit. "That's why they offered me the extra degree in return for my help. They've used my services, now even the professors are done with me. They reckon if I take more classes, I'll meet more people who hate me, finally take the hint…and leave. And I think I should."

John's hands slipped from his face until they rested on two bony shoulders. What had happened to make Sherlock this gloomy and sad? He sighed softly and gave the younger man a soft shake. "Hey, Sherlock, I am your friend, and that means that when I ask how you are, I want the truth, however horrible that may be." He smiled a little, sadly. "I am sorry they hate you, but not everyone does."

"Yeah they do," he mumbled. "It wasn't so bad in the first year. But they when our exam results started coming back, that's when it all began. And when they pestered me, they didn't expect me to retaliate or defend myself by saying something back. But I couldn't help it. And now even the teachers all which I left. No one would care if I did, so I might as well. You might be my friend, but you're barely ever here. You can't help. So what's the point in making you worried to no end?"

John sighed softly and gently squeezed his shoulders, and then pulled him in for a hug. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. Sometimes... sometimes I regret my choices of joining the army, especially when it comes to you." He smiled a bit tightly. "I wish I was there for you more often, to show that I really am your friend."

"Don't say that," he whispered, wrapping his arms around John tightly and sighing. "What you did was right for you. You're happy. And my life leaves a bad imprint on yours – if I told you what really goes on here, you'd just be upset. Maybe…maybe we should go our separate ways after this fortnight passes. For good."

John shook his head and held Sherlock close. "No, Sherlock, please," he whispered in the other man's neck. "Please, tell me what's going on, Lockie. We have been friends for so long, what could possibly push me away from you?"

"Me." Sherlock responded. "The fact that I'm so hopeless at anything but my work. There was an incident…about four months ago. Something that happened on the campus. I was on and off drugs for a month after that, then I stopped taking them completely, but I didn't go back to university for a week. I still remember walking into class again, and everyone's shocked and disappointed faces because they thought I'd gone for good." He teared up a little, biting his lower lip.

John's heart clenched and he held Sherlock even tighter. "I could have lost you," he whispered. "Sherlock... I could have lost you." He swallowed with enormous difficulty and pulled away to firmly press his lips to Sherlock's forehead. "What happened to make you do drugs?"

Sherlock bit his lip, stomach flipping over. "It was nothing major, actually. Just a prank on their part…I overreacted."

John frowned. "Tell me, please."

"I…" looked away again, "I was sitting under a tree one lunch time, just doing my own work, and…and a group of the other students came up and…" he trailed off. "Do you really want to hear this? It doesn't matter anymore."

John's stomach twisted and he felt nauseous. "What did they do?" he asked rather breathlessly. "I do want to hear, Sherlock."

"They asked me what brand underwear I wear, and when I told them it didn't matter to them, they decided they'd find out for themselves…"

Horrified, John sat up, his eyes wide and dark. "They did what?"

"Whatever they wanted with me, I suppose." Sherlock mumbled. "I went to see a couple of the teaching staff, and they just told me to grow up because it wasn't primary school and to leave if I couldn't hold it together and forget about it."

John gritted his teeth, already planning to talk to exactly those people. But first... "Did they…violate you?" he asked carefully, once more gently holding his best friend.

Sherlock moved out of his grasp. "I…no, no of course not. They – uhm – wouldn't go that far." Finishing his tea, he stood up. "I have to uh…do some work. I'll let you get some rest now."

John got up too, and grabbed his friend by his upper arms before he could leave. He stood close to Sherlock, his face open and even loving. "Sherlock? You... you can tell me anything, yes? You are…you are the most important human being to me, and I can't…can't stand this, seeing you like this."

Sherlock looked into his eyes, stormy gaze piercing into cobalt blue. "I'm alright," he promised, "I'm really okay. I'll be finishing at the end of this year. It's just six more months. I don't want you to worry. I wish you wouldn't – it doesn't solve anything and it makes you upset. I just want you to be happy, whatever you do and wherever you are."

John shook his head, stepping closer. "How can I be happy if you are not?"

"Only if you stop being friends with me," the other said softly.

John shook his head and looked up at his best friend. "Never. You are the most important thing, Sherlock. I…I love you." He paled when he said those words, and his eyes widened. "I meant, as a…a friend, of, erm…of course."

A tiny sparkle had appeared in Sherlock's eyes at those three words, but it quickly faded when John looked so regretful for them. "Of course. I'll be happier, then. Promise. Uhm…do you want to go somewhere for lunch, maybe? You must be hungry?"

John cleared his throat and then nodded. "Yeah, lunch. And a sightseeing tour through London. You promised." He managed a tight smile and smoothed his shirt down.

"Of course!" Sherlock said, cheering up. "They have some new exhibitions at the museum, I'm sure you'll like them, some are actually military-inspired. I'll get my coat."

"Brilliant! Yes!" John nodded and got up to get his shoes and coat, too. "That sounds perfect." He grinned brightly as his friend moved down the stairs, and soon followed him, eager to go out - with Sherlock. The man he had a crush on ever since he went into the military and he realised that he missed him more than a normal friend would. He shook the feeling off and was once more his cheery self. Sherlock would never return those feelings, let alone for him..

Sherlock's demeanour, now that he had got the real situation off his chest, was more playful and bright. As they walked out into the busy London streets, he asked, "Where to first? My only suggestion is that we should save the Eye till tonight – it looks so much better all lit up."

John grinned and nodded. "Eyes normally do," he replied, smirking, refering to that one time when Sherlock had set some experiment with eyes on fire. He chuckled. "Can we get some fish and chips? I haven't had that in ages."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, playfully pinching John's shoulder. They turned down a smaller London street to a row of small shops, cafés and delis. "If you ever want me to send anything over to your camp, you know I'd be happy to, right? I mean, I obviously can't send most foods, because they'd go off, but if there's anything else you miss…" Sherlock offered, opening the door to a cosy little café.

John stepped inside and sat down at a table in the far back. "I know," he said, "Thank you. I will keep it in mind." He smiled at his friend and patted his hand. "Do you want anything?" he asked, glancing at the menu.

Sherlock was about to reply with his usual 'I'm not hungry', but seeing as though he hadn't eaten in weeks and he had not ended up having dinner the previous time that John had gone off with Mary, he knew John would only lecture him. "I'll order something," he responded with a smile, "maybe the baked potato, I'm partial to theirs."
"Sherls!" came a happy voice as the shop owner, a middle-aged woman with dancing green eyes, walked over to give Sherlock a hug. "It's been over a month! Have you been looking after yourself?"
"Yes, Mrs MacPherson, I certainly have," Sherlock lied with one of his sweetest smiles as he returned the hug, which made her totally melt. "Good boy! I'll be calling that lovely landlady of yours up to make sure you continue with that." The woman turned to John with a warm smile, "And who might you be?"

John gave the two of them a bright grin, and offered the lady his hand. "I'm John Watson, ma'am. Sherlock's friend. I'm on leave now, so I'm indulging in English food." He smiled and looked at ease.

"On leave? Whatever do you do?" she asked, looking him over with a grin as she shook his hand, "I'd say some sort of physical work? Navy, maybe?"

John laughed softly. "Not the navy, but the Army. I'm stationed in Afghanistan. You were close, though. I just can't stand to be locked up on a ship."

She chuckled, "Can understand that. Now, boys, what can I get you?"

John smiled at the kind lady and sat down again. "Fish and chips for me please, with mashed peas, if you have them."

Sherlock ordered some baked potato, and the lady asked them what drinks they wanted.

John decided on a coke, and once Sherlock had ordered the lady left them. John sat back in his chair and glanced around at the cafe. "Nice place," he said, "I've never been here before."

"Definitely cosy, but not as good as Angelo's. I've only been once or twice before, I must admit," he smiled, "I ran an errand for Mrs MacPherson once. Looked into one of her son's girlfriends for her." They were interrupted by a waiter bringing their drinks - a waiter with short dark hair and jeans, who happened to be grinning at Sherlock. "Fancy us meeting again!"
Sherlock looked up in surprise, "Jim." He extended his hand, and the man shook it warmly.
"You didn't /really/ think I was a gas-pipe fixer, did you?"
"You couldn't have fixed a leak to save your life."
"Don't bet on it." He grinned at him, "Saw you at your Uni last week. James Moriarty? He's my brother. Have no idea why he went into teaching mathematics - wants me to follow in his footsteps, but I have other plans."
"Oh?"
"They're irrelevant - for the moment. Anyway, saw you conversing with one of the other teachers, and you looked cute. My brother got me your address."
"Against-"
"Against the rules, I know, I know, but take him to court and it's your word against mine." He turned to John with a forced smile, looking rather condescending, "Oh - it's you again."

John disliked Jim. He disliked him very, very much. He was too cheery, too smooth - and he was flirting with Sherlock. But the worst part was that Sherlock almost flirted back. Sherlock didn't do romance, he told John so himself. Yet here the man was - flirting. John managed a smile. "Yes, me again." He offered his hand. "John Watson."

He shook it like it was some kind of bacteria-infested item. "Jim, but you already know that." He turned back to Sherlock. "I'll be right back with your order, handsome." He winked playfully and swaggered off. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but didn't respond.

"Well, lucky you," John mumbled, curling his hand tightly around his cool glass.

"Lucky, me? Why?" he asked, looking back at him with curiosity.

John scoffed at him. "You are kidding me, Sherlock. That chap is all over you. One grin from you and you'll get laid."

Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and decided it was better not to ask. "Why would that make me lucky?" He took a sip from his lemonade, turning his gaze out the window to analyse the passing people.

John raised one eyebrow. "Why wouldn't it? Sex usually makes people happy."

It was Sherlock's turn to scoff. "Most people, John. /Most/ people." Upon his word, Jim returned a moment later with their orders, tossing John's down carelessly so that he could delicately place Sherlock's in front of him, with his most charming smile. "Now that you know I work here, why don't you come visit one day?" he asked sweetly, "You know…when you're /free/?" he shot John a brief glance of distaste. "My lunchtimes are quite flexible. I'd be happy to take it early or late to join you…"
"I already frequent the venue, so it is possible that I might drop by on my own, but it would hardly be necessary for you to – "
"On the contrary, it would be an honour! I'll look forward to it. Enjoy your meal, and if there's /anything/ you need, just call." He squeezed his shoulder before striding off again, leaving Sherlock to frown and straighten out his jacket.

John glared at the waiter and stared down at his plate, picking up his fork. He didn't want Sherlock to go out with that idiot. He began to eat almost angrily.

Sherlock was totally oblivious to the exchange between Jim and John, and happily settled down to his food, "So, the museum after this, yes? Where did you want to go after that? They're currently doing tour-cruises down the Thames, or we could go for a walk over London Bridge…"

John hummed a bit, still angry at Jim. He knew exactly why he was angry, of course. Sherlock was his friend, no that stupid Jim's. And Sherlock didn't even know he was being flirted with. "Yeah, museum is nice," he mumbled, "And a walk. I don't like boats."

Sherlock leaned forward with concern, touching his hand tenderly. "John...is everything okay? You're really out of it."

John jerked up, his hand twitching under Sherlock's. He felt as if he were on fire. "I'm…I'm fine," he managed, forcing himself to look into Sherlock's eyes and not lower. It wouldn't do to push everything out in the open now. He valued his friendship with Sherlock too highly. "I'm good."

Sherlock smiled comfortingly at him, gaze softer. "If you're sure, Johnny," he chuckled softly, giving his hand a squeeze, "but seriously, if /anything/ is /ever/ troubling you, just talk to me. You know I'd do everything and anything in my power to help."

John's face softened, and he smiled a little. "Yes, I know, Lockie. Thank you." He squeezed Sherlock's slender hand in return. "And the feeling is mutual." /If only.../

Sherlock returned to his food with a nod, but kept his hand interlocked with John's.

And when John stared at their hands at the table, he knew that Sherlock was the only one for him. He hadn't known for sure, but all he wanted was to be with Sherlock for ever, help him through his Uni, his bad days, hold him... kiss him. He sighed and felt his heart ache in longing. Sherlock would never want him as more than a friend. He cleared his throat and went back to his food. He was a soldier, and soldier on he would.

Sherlock smiled sweetly at him. They spent the rest of the meal in comfortable silence, and when they finished, Sherlock went and paid and said his goodbyes to the owner. He returned to John's side. "Shall we go?" he asked with a happy smile.

John nodded and briefly pressed his hand protectively against the small of Sherlock's back when he steered him past Jim.

Even though Sherlock didn't quite catch the meaning of the gesture, he liked it, and grinned down at John playfully. "You've gone quiet."

John smiled back and said, "I know. Just enjoying this, I think. I don't always need to talk. Unless you want me to, that is." He grinned and opened the door for him. "After you, Lockie."

Sherlock nodded his thanks, "You're right, y'know," he whispered, beaming down at him. "Thank you for agreeing to spend the day with me."

My life, if only you ask, John couldn't help but think wistfully. He smiled, though, and nodded. "And you with me." Together, they walked to the museum, enjoying their London.

This time, Sherlock held the door open for John, letting him walk in first. He watched him smile his thanks, and he felt himself melting again. Why couldn't he do it? Why couldn't he just resign himself to the fact that John was straight, and give up on his hopes? They had known each other so long, they had spent pretty much all their lives together…and then John /had/ to go and join the army, hadn't he? He bit his lip, following behind his friend.

The museum turned out to be quite perfect. Sherlock was in charge of the little booklet, meaning he read everything out loud. John thought it was all brilliant, and often had to laugh at Sherlock's face. Yes, it was quite pleasant. As was the walk past the Thames, where their hands brushed each other now and then.

By the time they were done, it was early evening. The young detective turned to his friend with a smile. "Did you have a pleasant day?" he asked, "So far, anyhow?"

John stretched his legs, feet scraping at the gravel. They were sat on a bench on the eastbank of the Thames. "Yes, it has been great, /so far/," John replied, grinning. "What else have you planned?"

"We still have dinner and the Eye to go, if you're feeling up to it," he reminded him, leaning back against the bench.

John turned his head and looked at Sherlock. "Of course, Sherlock. Always." He winked cheekily and sighed happily. "I love London."

The other grinned, leaning lightly against him. "Mm. Same here. Do you plan on eventually retiring here?" he asked, turning to meet his gaze.

John curled an arm around Sherlock's shoulders and nodded. "Yes, as soon as I have finished my degree, and the army will let me go."

"Twenty or thirty years in the future, you mean," Sherlock laughed lightly, but there was a sad undertone. He smiled at him, "You make a good solider. You always were caring and helpful, easily adapting to change and being resilient."

John gave Sherlock a soft smile and shook his head. "Sooner, I think, truly. Five, six years. And you are right. I don't know if I am a good soldier, but... apart from missing London, I have never regretted this."

He nodded slowly. "Why do you think they'll let you go that early? You're only in your twenties. Aren't some of your superiors in their late forties to early fifties?"

John licked his lips. "I am almost done with the education, so I have to serve them a few years and then I can go home. To you." He looked up at Sherlock. And right there, he just wanted to kiss him, feel so close to that wonderful man. He didn't. He just…couldn't force himself on his best friend like that, so he looked away again. "It will pass, too."

Painfully, Sherlock thought to himself, but smiled, heart skipping a beat at his comment. "Hope so. Until then, I'll be right here missing you, all by myself," he chuckled, drawing a lazy pattern on the other's knee. "I never thought it would be like this, you know, when you said you wanted to be a doctor." John was so amazing, so perfect, and he knew Sherlock better than anybody else did. If only they could – no. No, that would never be. John was a straight, attractive soldier. He deserved better – to settle down with someone who meant something to him, and somebody he loved.

Author's Note: SherlockedSherlockian

Hey everyone!

Thank you for your lovely reviews, and a special thank you to Cherik221b, Serenityofthematrix and Starlight05! Lovely readers make happy writers! Note to my readers in response to your queries: PM me anytime you'd like! ;) Communication is cool!

I'd love to roleplay/co-author a fanfic!

This chapter's shout-outs:

Cherik221B (All my love!) Starlight05 (This chapter is dedicated to you. The Fandom Medal for summing up all your feels to the story in a review! Love you! Xx) CowMow ( :) ) johnsarmylady (Hi!) Serenityofthematrix (THANKS FOR THE REVIEWS! x) My Sergeant Told Me (Glad you're enjoying this fic!) SpencerReidFan89 (Hi!) Noxlupis Lamiamedicus (Thank you so much!) MouraMoura (You're awesome 3) Sparkie98 (Hello!) outofcornflakes (love the username ;) )

Yours Always,

SherlockedSherlockian xxx