Look! Look! Chapter 5 and it's only taken me a few days! I'm so happy with myself!

I'm not too sure about this chapter. Not only is it short, but there seems to be a lot of repetition inside Sherlock's head, so I'm sorry about that!

I'm still happy about how I got it out, and I'm generally pleased about how this turned out, I'm just worried about what you may think!

Also, I thought I'd mention this on my story, because I really believe in it, so here

I bet a lot of you know about Kony 2012, but those who don't check out the video on my profile because it's really important. And come out with us all on the 20th of April. It's for something great. Remember the moment we stop caring for others is the moment we lose our Humanity. Kony 2012. Be Aware. Be Motivated. Be Active.

Please do whatever you can. Even if it's just posting a Facebook status or blogging about it.

Sherlock POV

I sent a message, as if I was the woman in pink, saying that I blacked out and wanted to meet up with whoever had my phone. It was a longshot that he would even show up, but it gave me something to do instead of sitting around and obsessing about Rachel… or John.

It would also help me with my plan to get rid of John's cane. That was a serious hindrance… To me. I wanted to snap the cane, and snap the neck of whoever caused John to be like that.

Never mind. Too far.

But it was true. I was feeling weird things, and I didn't like it. I'd known John for such a short amount of time, but already I was wanted to protect him, and spend more time with him. I've already spent more time with him than I've probably done any other person, besides Mycroft. But those were forced meetings. I would never spend time with my brother if I had a choice.

"Where are we going?" John eventually asked. He just followed me, not knowing where we were going for the half hour. He seemed to trust me already. Enough for me to take him anywhere I pleased with no questioned asked until his leg started acting up.

That was a trait I liked in a companion. Not that I really knew, just a general outline of qualities in a person that I enjoyed. Loyalty was one near the top of my list.

My mind immediately went to experiments I could do to test John's loyalty. Now wasn't the time for such thoughts so I quickly sorted the thought into my mind in an area designated for further thought when I would have more time.

"To meet our killer," I replied simply. I knew he would have more questions, but I liked to draw things out when they aren't topics that make me want to punch Anderson in the face. Not that Anderson is the only one I had IQ lowering conversations with, but he was the face that came into my mind when someone mentioned that Benedict fellow. Why was everyone in a panic about him?

"What?" John stopped walking, looking at me strangely.

I sighed loudly. I always had a thing for the dramatics. "I said we must meet our killer. I texted the dead woman's phone and told him to meet us across the street from here." I pointed at the restaurant that was just in front of us. "Please keep up, John."

"Sorry, I didn't know what you were thinking," He drawled sarcastically, before mumbling, loud enough for me to hear, "I'm not a mind reader."

"Of course you're not. There is no such thing." I was just teasing now.

I opened the door for my companion, my mother taught me to be a gentleman. At least when I thought the time called for it, meaning when it was in my favour, otherwise I would not lift a finger. I didn't get anything from John, but I felt like doing the polite thing impulsively.

"We'll wait here," I chose a table right next to the window so I could keep an eye out for suspicious behavior.

"Sherlock!" I heard my name called. I knew who it belonged too. The owner.

"Angelo," I greeted.

"Sherlock, anything on the menu, whatever you want, free, on the house for you and your date." The bearded man beamed at John and me.

I didn't bother correcting him, as if it mattered what he thought, but neither did John. He just smirked down at the menu after giving the exuberant man a nod in greeting.

"This man got me off a murder charge!" The owner informed John eagerly, grabbing my shoulder, and I really just wanted to brush it off.

"It was nothing really," I replied. I might have sounded modest, but I was just stating the facts. It really was nothing. "All I did was successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly gruesome triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town housebreaking."

"He cleared my name!" Angelo declared joyously.

"I cleared it a bit." I dismissed, but snuck a glance at John. Was he impressed? What did he think of me clearing Angelo's name? I wanted to know.

"But for this man, I would have gone to prison-"

"-You did go to prison," I interrupted, staring out the window just to take my eyes off of John. Also to look for our murderer.

"I'll get you a candle for your table. It's more romantic." Angelo tossed out, walking away.

Again John didn't oppose the idea of a more romantic setting. Did he just think nothing of it? That was probably it.

"So, who is Mycroft?" John broke the silence.

"As he told you, my arch-enemy." And my brother, but I wouldn't tell him that.

"People don't have arch-enemies in real life."

"They don't? Sounds dull."

"So who was he really?"

"What do people have instead of enemies? In real life?" I change the conversation, not wanting to talk more about Mycroft.

"Friends. You know: People they know, people they like, people they don't like. Girlfriends, boyfriends." My mind zoned in on boyfriends. John had boyfriends, right? Did he have one right now? Would he be bringing this man to the flat? How could I handle that? Yes, I've already started to devise my 'cockblocking' plan, but it wasn't near completion.

"Like I said, dull," I said, attempting to keep my cool persona.

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?"

Why was he asking? Was he having the same inner problem I was having? I thought these questions as I continued scanning, head moving side to side. "Girlfriend...No...Not really my area..."

"Alright then..." John dragged out. What does that mean? "...Do you have a...boyfriend?"

I just turned to face him. I blinked, confused about this conversation. Why would he be asking me such questions?

"Not that I'd try to steal him or anything," He added.

"I know that," I answered quickly. John wasn't the type to steal my boyfriend, even one I didn't have.

"So you've got a boyfriend-"

"-No." A short, quick shake of the head to reinforce it.

"Alright. OK." He nodded, licking his lips. "You're unattached. That's fine." He shook his head. "Fine, Good."

Was he coming on to me? I couldn't tell. I felt a strange stirring in my stomach at the thought of him wanting me like that. It wasn't unpleasant, but I wasn't sure I wanted this feeling as I looked at John.

"Until recently, I've said I was married to my work," I told him. I don't know when I stopped doing that, but right at this moment, I felt wrong to say.

"Sounds lonely."

"I was," I smiled tightly at him. I wasn't lonely at the moment.

There was silence again until I looked out the window. My head abruptly jerked.

"A taxi!" I pointed out.

"So?"

"It's just been sitting there. Why would a taxi just sit there like that? Let's go!" I jumped up and ran out of the restaurant, John close behind. I didn't fail to notice that he had left his cane. Exactly as I thought. I knew that the excitement of the chase would be enough to fix that.

"Dammit!" I yell when the cab pulled away right as we approached. "This way!" I shouted at John as we weaved our way around people and eventually to an alley. I was trying to think of the easiest route we could take to meet up with the taxi. I took into account the signs it would hit, the lights, the timings of such, and pedestrians. I knew where I go, and John followed behind me blindly.

I knew he loved this. He had to be. This is what he lived for, and I was bringing that rush back into his life. I was the only one that can bring him this, and for that I was very proud.

People yelled at us, crying out, and I could hear John apologizing when they did, but I paid no notice. My thoughts were focused on the chase, and maybe the occasional John filled thought, but mostly catching the cab.

When we finally caught up to it, I practically threw myself on top of it, before ripping open the door, only to expose an American man. He couldn't have done it.

Frustrated, I just stalked away, John at my heels.

"That wasn't him?" John asked innocently, but it angered me even more.

"Obviously that wasn't him. Even an idiot could see that. That made could have only been in the country tops. Bloody Americans." I grumbled, hailing a new cab. On the way home the only sound was my constant mumbling about how we must have missed him when we went on the wild goose chase, and John's heavy sighs that would come every once in a while. I was really tempted to ask what was wrong, but figured he was as made as I was about the cab.

How could I have let that happen? John must think I was a complete idiot. For some reason I wanted him to be impressed by me, I didn't like the thought of doing something wrong in front of him.

And I didn't know why I felt like this. It was getting annoying. I've known this man just over a day and already I wanted to have him around much more than anyone. I wanted him to help me figure cases out, and I wanted him to be impressed by me. More so than I wanted other people to be impressed. There was something about John Watson.

I ripped out of the cab, leaving John to pay and ran up the stairs to our flat. I wasn't even too frustrated by the cab anymore. I was more angered by my thoughts being constantly on John.

Why? Why? Why? I had to ask someone, and I knew the perfect person.

Can I ask you a question regarding relationships? –SH I texted Molly. She seemed to know the most out of the people I was comfortable texting, and she would be eager to ask any question of mine.

Relationships? I guess I can. –Molly :)

What does it mean when you can't stop thinking about someone and you want them around you? –SH

WHO ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? –Molly :)

Please just answer the question. –SH

Well I would think that you had feelings for this person. Who is it? –Molly :)

Of course, I have feeling towards them. –SH

This was going nowhere, and I didn't want to tell her I was talking about John.

Not just any feelings, Sherlock. You like them. –Molly :)

Again, of course I like them. I asked for help, not for you to tell me what I already knew. –SH

Sorry. You like them like them. Like in a romantic sense. –Molly :)

She was using 'like' in that childish way that teenagers used to describe their infatuation.

That's absurd. Really, Molly, I will end this conversation if you're just going to joke. –SH

No, I'm serious. It's the only thing that I can think of. Maybe you don't think about this persona a romantic way, but you are at least infatuated by them. –Molly :)

Maybe she was on to something.

I'll take what you've said into consideration. Thank you and goodnight. –SH

I got what I wanted, so that was the end of the conversation. I didn't want to make her think she could text me whenever she wanted, asking me things like ''Sup?' and 'How u doin'?'

"Sherlock? Would you like some tea?" John asked from the kitchen.

My hands began to sweat as I thought about what I just talked about with Molly. Could she be right? Did I have an infatuation with a certain John Watson? It seemed ridiculous, but was it really?

"That would be lovely," I told him from my spot curled up on the couch. I hadn't even taken off my coat yet.

"How do you like it?"

"No milk and just a swirl of honey."

He went about to make and even delivered it to me when he was done. I wasn't about to get it, but it was considerate. He sat across from me, holding a mug of his own, and I took a sip, not taking my eyes away from him.

And I almost spat it out.

I settled on a disgusted face instead. "This has milk," I complained.

"Oh, sorry, that must be mine. I wasn't paying attention." He handed me the mug he held, and too the one from my hands. "I haven't had a drink yet, so there shouldn't be anything wrong with it." He took a sip from his own.

I couldn't help but think. My mouth was there. I had my mouth there. We have, technically and indirectly, kissed.

"So," John spoke, making me pull my eyes away from his mouth, rather quickly. "I've been meaning to tell you, you know how you deduced me before?"

How could I forget that?

"Well, you mentioned my brother Harry?"

"Yes," I prompted. This seemed to be going slowly. I wanted him to spit it out.

"I meant to tell you earlier, but Harry's short for Harriet," He smirked.

"Sister?" I cried.

"Yes, Harriet Watson, my sister who has just left her wife Clara."

"Sister! There's always something!" I complained, taking a drink of my tea, which was made surprisingly well. I now saw all the obvious signs of him being close to his sister. I can't believe I missed it.

"Don't worry, mate, you can't be perfect." But I wanted to be. I wanted him to see me as perfect too.

There was a knock at the door. I knew who it was, but still allowed John to look confused, because of the time, and get up to get it.

"Sherlock texted me and told me to bring this here," I heard a familiar voice say. I also heard the rustling of the exchange, John's thank you, and the other leaving.

"My cane?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

Grinning into my tea, I said, "I knew you didn't really need it."

"Thank you," John mumbled, before returning to his seat to finish his tea, and to where I could sit and admire him.

Once again I felt that tingling in my lower stomach.

Ah! I'm sorry it's short! :(

I have to tell you all, that just because Sherlock is thinking like this does not mean he and John are about to jump into bed, that's not for a long time. There will be some fun though, just not Johnlock action for a little bit.

Please review still! Please! I want to get to thirty reviews!