To Sherlock's disdain the situation did not improve over the next few weeks. John was getting grumpier and less content with every day. Although Sherlock had to admit that he could see the improvement in John's physique he refused to acknowledge it fearing that it would encourage John even more. Therefore their communication was reduced to everyday necessities and the usual case chat.
It was at a case that Sherlock lost his usually made of steel nerves. The case had not been very interesting and once again he was doubting the intelligence of the force. Maybe they should simply select better who was going to run after criminals in this country. But on the other hand he could not imagine so many people being interested in the whole paperwork which he was luckily able to skip. The murder was easily spotted since he was still standing in the crowd and once being pointed out to John had started running. The bored consulting detective was after him in the fracture of a second with his assistant following on his footsteps. To his surprise John overtook him quickly and with an unknown easiness despite disadvantage of his much shorter legs. He tackled the murder and managed to hold him down one-handedly. Lestrade and the rest of the force caught up with them rather quickly and one of the dim-witted officers whose name Sherlock could never remember took the criminal away from John to lead him to his rightful place in the police car.
Lestrade looked at them disapprovingly. "How many times do I have to tell you two that you are supposed to leave the chasing to my people?" The looked on his face changed to a more approving one. "Although, John, I am impressed. That was really quick and probably quicker than most people who are younger than you. Are you working out?"
The tips of John's ears turned the slightest shade of pink. "You know, just a little bit. Traing to get back in form after leaving the army."
Lestrade petted his belly. "Well, congrats. Maybe I should follow your example. Way to go, John!"
Sherlock could not hold it anymore: "Stop encouraging him, Lestrade! This whole obsession has become a terrible distraction and is impossible to incorporate into our life. This has to stop!" With a dramatic twist of his coat he turned around and left a stunned DI Lestrade and John Watson behind. The first turned to John: "What the hell is wrong with him?"
John shrugged and turned to follow the detective. He had noticed the strain it had put on their relationship but he was not going to let Sherlock boss him around in this just like he did with everything else. He spotted Sherlock getting into a cab and started running towards it, shouting his partner's name but the bastard did not stop and didn't even turn around to acknowledge John running. The cab left and John started swearing. This was of course the only cab anywhere close by. He reached for his phone only to realize that he had given it to Sherlock earlier who had sent a message using John's phone and had not given it back. Great, he thought. He considered going back to Lestrade to ask for a ride but was in no mood to discuss Sherlock's obviously strange behavior in more details. He started walking and silently cursed Sherlock for being the stubborn idiot that he was.
After a very long walk and even longer ride on the tube John finally arrived at 221B Baker Street. Having thought that his mood would have lightened up by the time he arrived he realized that the exact opposite had happened. He was more furious at his flatmate and maybe partner than ever. Sometimes he wished they would just go back to being friends and flatmates although he knew that it was impossible. Sherlock could not go back to unknowing everything John had told him and John could never see Sherlock simply as a friend. If the idiot was just easier to talk to but for somebody so brilliant the concept of let's sit and talk seemed to create some kind of time-rift problem since every time John only mentioned it Sherlock would magically disappear only to be seen again at night when he was sure John was sleeping.
The door creaked as John opened it. The living room was dark but after his eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness he could see the outstretched form of Sherlock Holmes laying on the sofa, unmoving as always but undoubtedly deeply in thought.
"Sherlock, we need to talk." There was no answer and John realized he hadn't expected an answer. Maybe everything about Sherlock Holmes was a lost cause and maybe he was just as lost as the man on the couch. He waited for another few moments and then, without turning on the light, walked off in the direction of the stairs.
"John, did you know that 69% of men consider themselves to be physically fit whereas only 13% are actually physically fit?" Sherlock asked into the silence.
John stopped in his tracks and turned around. "What?"
Sherlock suddenly jolted up into a sitting position. "I said that 69% of men consider themselves to be physically fit whereas only 13% are actually physically fit."
"Aha" John said not knowing what kind of contribution was expected of him.
"You on the other hand fall into a different category. You don't think you are physically fit and attractive yet you never fall behind running after me across London. You have a steady hand when shooting which indicates normal muscle tissue, you don't have any medical symptoms that indicate lack of work-out and I don't see any need for you to be attractive to people outside of this flat. Or is there a need?" Sherlock stared at him through the darkness.
John was not sure whether he was more surprised at the thought that Sherlock had given this, although maybe it had been just a fraction of a second for him, or at the thought of Sherlock sounding jealous. Sherlock did not do jealous; he was so sure of himself he would have taken over the world if his brother led him without even thinking about competition.
"Didn't you ever consider that I am doing this for myself?" He asked Sherlock with a certain restrain in his voice.
Sherlock got up in a very quick move and was in front of John in three long strides. "No data indicates this variance. You are usually very much focused on other people. Not exactly caring about their opinion but wanting to make them comfortable which makes you the ideal partner at my side." "Gee, thanks!" John snorted but Sherlock was not done yet. "John," he insisted and scooped a little bit closer. "I need to understand this for me to even consider accepting it. Why is this becoming so difficult for us?"
John shook his head not knowing what to say. "Sherlock, I…" he took a deep breath. "I tried to explain this the other day to you but you weren't listening." Despite his tries to not sound accusing he could quite stop his voice from whining. "But I am listening now. I am not going to stop listening so explain yourself." Sherlock had somehow gotten closer and was now merely a few inches from John's body.
"I used to be very well trained and used to have a great endurance. Of course that was due to rapid army training but still. Ever since I came back I have slowly been degrading and I am just trying to stop that. As well as the fact that working and living and everything else with you is putting a certain restrain on my self-esteem. I know that I am more social than you and that there are certain things that I am better at but it is nothing that people notice. I am average to most people. To them I am just your sidekick. But I am definitely too old to be Robin." Sherlock frowned. "You know, Batman and Robin, the kid that was his sidekick wearing only green pants and a red shirt." Sherlock could not help but grin for the fracture of a second at the thought of John in just green pants but John fortunately did not notice.
"You are not my sidekick. I need you." Sherlock said with an unknown urgency in his voice and now being completely sincere again. "I need you whether you are trained or not in my working life just as much as I need you in my private life. And you are far form average, you are very special indeed."
His face came closer to John's and within a second his lips were pressed against his flatmate's lips.