"Sherlock?" John called into the house.
He was rather breathless, having jogged up to the door and flung it open.
"John," Sherlock's deep voice called back from his left.
John looked over to see Sherlock rising from an armchair. He puffed out a sigh of relief and kicked the door closed behind him. He went forward as Sherlock came towards him. When they were about half a foot apart, Sherlock froze. His eyes widened at John and then squinted, his face becoming a scowl.
"How dare you!" he shouted, making John jump.
"How dare I what?" John sputtered in confusion.
"You went and had sex with him!" Sherlock accused, "Don't try to deny it I can smell him on you!"
"Sherlock, I didn't!" John protested.
"Look at you!" Sherlock yelled, "Hurriedly dressed, reeking of alcohol and Lestrade! Disgusting!"
"Sherlock, please, calm down," John said shakily, "Nothing happened. I just got really drunk and Greg took me home with him. Actually, he was quite the gentleman. I'm actually a really touchy, feely drunk, but he didn't let anything happen. I promise Sherlock, nothing happened. Really, nothing happened."
John took a breath, holding it in while Sherlock searched him with his eye (which sounds a whole lot nicer than it actually is). Finally Sherlock's shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit, which John only caught because he'd come to learn to read the detective much the same way as the detective read others. John let out the breath shakily and started to heave another one to go on a different rant when Sherlock interrupted him.
"I'm sorry for what I did," Sherlock said in a clear, firm voice, "Something came over me that I didn't understand. I'm very sorry."
John smiled softly at him relieved to hear the words.
"It's ok, I forgive you, you tosser," John answered brightly.
"Good," Sherlock nodded, "There, um, is something else as well."
There was a pause while Sherlock looked away from John nervously. Then he took a deep breath and turned back to John with a confident look on his face.
"I believe my chemicals and hormones have risen to a sufficient level in reaction to you."
John blinked at Sherlock and Sherlock merely blushed slightly and looked away.
"I'm sorry, what does that mean?" John questioned.
Sherlock let out a snort of frustration and his face reddened further.
"I suppose you would say, I'm in love with you," he stated, still looking away.
"Why didn't you just say that?" John asked.
"Because I am uncomfortable with those words," Sherlock muttered, "In that order."
John couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. He pushed it away and cleared his throat.
"Well, I think I should say something then," John said in a somber voice, "My chemicals and hormones have risen to a sufficient level in reaction to you, as well."
Sherlock's head jerked to look at John in surprise. John grinned widely at him.
"Oh, well, I assumed as much," Sherlock answered coolly.
John rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"Just come here and kiss me now," John commanded in a playful voice.
Sherlock once again became apprehensive. He looked away and cleared his throat.
"A different time," Sherlock answered, "I don't feel up to it now."
John tried to ignore the disappointment, but it was pretty hard considering it threatened to consume him completely. He put on a smile anyway and nodded his head for Sherlock's benefit.
"That's fine," John said, "I understand. Anyway, do you want some breakfast? Or perhaps we should go home first?"
"Mycroft should be here any minute," Sherlock answered, "He'll send us home."
"Sounds good," John said brightly, "I'm definitely ready to go home."
As if on cue, Mycroft burst through the front door and strode towards them. He nodded curtly to John and then thrust a leather bound notebook into Sherlock's hands. Sherlock looked down at it and then up at Mycroft. Mycroft nodded jerkily and John could've sworn he saw the man blush. Sherlock gripped the notebook and held it to his chest. John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, but he just blushed and shook his head. John started to wonder what was with all the blushing.
"Can we, er, go now?" he asked awkwardly.
"Yes, come along," Mycroft sprang into action, starting towards the still open door, "This house is to be used for other purposes so you two need to vacate."
John rolled his eyes and offered his arm to Sherlock. Sherlock frowned at him, but looped his arm through John's. He kept the book clutched tightly in his hand, by his side. John made a note to ask him about it after everything calmed down a bit. Or maybe he'd just look in it sometime when Sherlock was asleep. By the way Sherlock was clutching it and the way no one addressed the book, John figured he'd get more answers if he just took a look.
"Would you like breakfast when we get home?" John asked, pushing away thoughts of the intriguing new book as they walked out to the curb, "Or do you want to sleep?"
"I slept last night," Sherlock said, "I would like breakfast."
"How long did you sleep?" John pressed.
"I don't know," Sherlock answered, visibly flinching at the words, "I broke the clock. There was only one. It was midnight when I went to sleep and full daylight when I woke up."
"I thought you had a watch," John started, "Wait, why'd you break the clock?"
"It is irrelevant," Sherlock toned.
"Don't give me that," John snapped, "Why did you break it?"
Sherlock looked at John and sighed.
"It was mocking me," Sherlock muttered.
John decided to leave it at that. He looked down at Sherlock's hands to see if they were damaged as they slid into the car Mycroft had waiting. He noted that Sherlock's right knuckles were torn up and bruised. He winced slightly and turned away, making a note in his head to bandage them.
"They aren't that bad," Sherlock stated, "I'll just wash them up."
John turned to look at him, his eyebrow raised in confusion.
"My knuckles," Sherlock said, lifting his hand up and flexing his fingers, "That's what you were thinking about. Bandaging them up and all that doctor stuff you do. They really aren't that bad, I can just wash them off and they'll be fine."
"You're so brilliant, Sherlock," John said softly.
"Oh, I, uh, wasn't meaning to be," Sherlock responded, "I just wanted you to know it's ok."
"Sherlock, I'm not mad," John said, "I'm just fawning over you and telling you that you're amazing. That's what I always do. What's wrong?"
"I don't know," Sherlock answered, wincing again, "I just assumed…that things would be different."
"They don't have to be," John assured him, "Things can be the same as usual if you want."
"Oh," Sherlock stated simply.
He turned away from John, his eyebrows furrowing together. John sighed and looked out his own window. He was pretty sure he wouldn't hear anything from Sherlock for at least the rest of the car ride. He glanced back over and saw Sherlock's head buried in the leather notebook. Nope. Definitely not hearing from him for awhile.
Little note: Heya dearies! Hope you liked it! Thanks for all the reviewers, especially Peaceandunity for reviewing multiple times! Thanks also for the follows and favorites! Did anyone catch the hint at Mystrade in the last chapter? Love you all!