Hey Guys, sorry for such a slow update, I will try and update quicker next time. If things go to plan there should be some case drama in the next chapter. Anyway if you are still here and sticking with this story then thank you so much, it means a lot. So guys please favourite if you think me or my story deserves it and please review. Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Thank you,

Scarlett xxx

Chapter Four

Why did he keep apologizing? Why, why, why? John was extremely hard to read. There was nothing to apologize about. Sherlock was grateful that John thought he could trust Sherlock enough to have a good cry on his shoulder. Of course he knew that John trusted him, but it was nice to have proof now and again. Not that he needed it of course, he could deduce everything anyway. Well anything except feelings, it seemed. Not that he would ever admit to anyone that he was having trouble.

Sherlock locked the door to the bathroom behind him and stepped in front of the tiny mirror, edges cloudy with condensation. Wiping this away with an annoyed growl he stared at his pale reflection and sighed. He rubbed at his temples, attempting to rid the headache he felt coming on. A headache was the last thing he needed, that would make it harder to figure out what the whole crying scenario was about.

Sherlock turned the shower onto the coldest setting, stripped off his dressing gown, underwear and slippers and stepped into the torrent of ice cold water. However the cold water didn't seem to have as much of an effect on his body that Sherlock had hoped. He had hoped it would clear his head a bit and help him focus on John's reaction. But his body seemed to be completely repellent to the freezing torrent. Sighing in frustration he proceeded to grab the shampoo off of the side of the bath, (The shampoo that John had banned Sherlock from using in any experiments. Apparently it was too expensive to go to waste. Sherlock still didn't understand how it was in any way a waste.) And squeezed it onto his palm. He then rubbed it into his untamable curls, with such vigor that the headache he had been on the brink of, suddenly seemed to engulf his whole head.

"Crap, jeez ouch." Sherlock cursed under his breath at the pounding in his head and quickly rinsed out the Shampoo. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to sleep. Wait what was he saying, he had slept three hours last night, that was usually enough to last him two days.

"Love is having some bad effects on my brain" Sherlock thought to himself sourly. Stepping out of the shower Sherlock wrapped his lower half in a white towel, scowled at his neglected reflection in the mirror, unlocked the bathroom door and walked straight into John.

"How cliché" both the men thought to themselves.

"Sorry I was just going to my room" John and Sherlock said in synchrony.

"Right, yes sorry." John replied distractedly, he seemed to be trying to look anywhere but his flat mate.

"No, it's fine" Sherlock replied, frowning at how John was acting.

"You know I didn't even realize that it's three in the morning!" The shorter man chuckled, slowly raising his eyes to meet his best friends beautiful ice blue eyes.

"As ever you see but do not observe John, there is a clock in the kitchen."

"Right sorry guess I'm just a bit tired." As if on cue the Doctor yawned and it seemed to scrunch up his whole face. This made him look almost impossibly like a little baby hedgehog. A hedgehog, maybe the annoying so called "fan girls" had a valid point. (Although Sherlock supposed they were good for something. Tumblr was a very interesting place when you followed some of these people; they really did have some very… imaginative brains.)

Shaking these thoughts away from his mind Sherlock looked back down at John, to see him rubbing his eyes and Sherlock suddenly felt rather guilty that he was keeping his flat mate awake. Not everyone had a brain that could stay awake for as long as his.

"I'll let you get some sleep then, night John"

"Night Sherlock."

The Detective spun on his heel and marched off towards his room. However he stopped turned around and walked through the kitchen to the living room and stuck his head round the doorway of 221B just to watch John walk up the stairs to his room.

"John?"

"Yeah"

"Good morning" Sherlock said with one of his rare genuine smiles.

John smiled back and Sherlock felt quite annoyed with his body as he went completely weak at the knees. His body was always betraying him, he was meant to have at least a bit of control over it.

"Good morning Sherlock" John chuckled a bit before saying "see you later" With that John continued to walk up the stairs and Sherlock watched his retreating back before heading back to his room.

Shutting the door to his room he proceeded to bang his head against the door multiple times. Ignoring the sharp pains shooting through his brain as his headache reached a crescendo.

After 46 seconds of repeatedly banging his head against the door, Sherlock decided that this wasn't helping him with his deductions. He then registered that he was still in his towel. Throwing this to the floor he grabbed a random pair of boxers from his drawer (being careful to not mess up his sock index) and shoved them on, before throwing back his covers and jumping into bed with such a force he heard one of the wooden boards snap. Sherlock chuckled and stuck his head over the side of the bead. His still wet curls hung over his face and the water droplets fell to the floor and dotted the carpet. Shoving a plastic storage box, full of old science equipment out of the way he grabbed the smaller box from behind it and pulled it out from under the shadows. Pulling up his head and grimacing at the pounding that seemed to be coming from inside his actual brain, he lifted up the box onto his bed.

He smiled briefly to himself before opening the lid and pulling out his hideous Christmas jumper. He breathed in the beautiful smell of John and felt himself visibly relax. Laying it beside him he closed the box before replacing it back in its specific spot under the bed. He then lay back down and laid John's jumper over his nose and mouth. He continued to inhale Johns smell until his eyes drooped close.

Just as he was drifting off into the realms of sleep he jolted awake so fast that he wacked his head on the headboard behind him.

Love.

Sherlock had called John love.

That was why John had been acting so strangely out in the corridor. Why had he not stopped himself before saying something so… so sentimental! Sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side. Sherlock was not on the losing side. Sherlock never lost, he was the winner, the one who won. He had never lost anything in his life, (well nothing except Cluedo but in his defense, the rules were wrong!)

What should he do? Ignore the fact he had called John a pet name such as love? Tell John he was sorry? Or just admit that he was in love with him and get it over with? He knew that the most logical answer would be to tell John the truth. But he didn't want to get rejected. That would be akward and John may feel the need to move out if he knew that his flat mate was gay. Sherlock didn't think he would be able to cope if John moved out. He would be heartbroken if John rejected him and moved out. It wouldn't be home without John.

No, no telling John was not an option. So did he apologise or did he ignore the whole scenario?

Apologise? Sherlock wasn't even sure he was sorry. He wanted to be in a romantic relationship with John there was no shame in that. Why should he apologise? Well he didn't want to scare John away if he apologised and John pieced the bits together and realized he was gay.

No ignoring the situation was definitely the best option. He wouldn't say anything. He would ask Lestrade for some case files in the morning and distract himself with that.

Rubbing the back of his head, Sherlock rolled onto his side and hugged John's jumper close to his chest. Closing his eyes against his pounding headache, Sherlock slept better than he had for a long time.