A/N: Merry Christmas to you all, and as a gift, not only is this a quick new post but also something I think you've been waiting for :D Hope you liked it.

For those still with me...Hope you enjoy :D Thanks to my Beta Magpieintheshadow

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

When John turned away from the library he was calm and collected. At least that was the outward appearance the guests saw, but no one could see or would believe the volcano bubbling with him. - Least of all John himself.

Walking in on Holmes like that had shocked the colour right out of Watson. After everything he'd said about not liking or trusting Jacob, Holmes had gone back to the jerk, completely disregarding his friends' opinion. Typical Sherlock really.

Heading towards the stairs John clenched his jaw at the pain radiating through his leg. It hadn't hurt this badly in months. - Not since meeting Sherlock. Now it felt like someone was driving nails straight through the bone. His mind was uneasily silent as well, like those moments before a thunder storm when the whole world was in expectation of the chaos to come.

John walked on, his gaze fixed on his destination, when a figure rushed into his path.

"John, my dear. Thank heavens. - Could you come please? Mrs Singer looks terribly ill and Doctor Wilson was called away."

Unthinkingly John nodded and followed Mary into the reception room where a large older woman sat on a chair by the fire breathless and flushed. John worked on autopilot, dealing with the patient without much thought. Something he'd done a lot of while on service. Deducing that there was nothing seriously wrong with her and that all she really needed was some fresh cool air and a glass of ice cold water, he lifted himself off the floor with a wince and continued of his way to his room.

He froze at the sight of Jacob leaving the library. His features flushed and his suit still in disarray from Sherlock's desperate clawing hands. The man caught sight of John and sent him an arrogant, self-satisfied grin, while running his thumb over his lips in a gesture usually reserved for removing a lovers lipstick, but in this case was clearly meant to highlight the fact he'd just finished snogging Sherlock.

As was usual when John was swamped with adrenaline, the pain in his leg vanished and his hand stopped shaking. He wasn't thinking, that was the thing, he was acting on instinct and at that moment his instincts were those of a soldier who saw a threat to what he'd sworn to protect.

He was in front of Jacob before either of them knew it, his fist raised and swinging, all the forced that years of military training gave him behind it. John Watson was a doctor; he knew bodies which meant he knew exactly where to hit to cause the most damage and pain.

Bone hit bone; a yell of agony erupted, drawing everyone's attention. John stood staring at his victim - if he could be called such - as he doubled over, both hands clutched to his nose as blood poured. John was well aware that he'd broken the bastards' nose, as much as he was aware that he'd broken his path as a doctor. - but it hadn't been the first time and right now as that satisfied hum filled his body he didn't give a shit.

After watching the bleeding man for a few seconds more, John stepped past him and started up the stairs. He could hear the sound of surprised people behind him, but didn't stop to explain his actions - probably because he didn't understand them. He knew that his reaction was unwarranted and senseless but something in his gut and that dark unexplored part of his brain said it was necessary.

John arrived back at his room and just stood there for a second staring at it. The bed was made perfectly, but the room was a mess with Sherlock's discarded clothing from earlier. It was all so completely familiar and natural to him yet for some inexplicable reason…new.

~ SHERLOCK ~

The conversation in the library was interrupted by a yell of agony and rushing footsteps that had all three occupants sprinting for the door. In the doorway they froze to watch John Watson walking calmly up the stairs and Jacob stood bent double as blood gushed from a broken nose with Mary staring at the scene with a great deal of confusion.

Sherlock's gaze remained on the retreating John with surprise. Watching as he ever so calmly took one step at a time and noting the flexing of the fingers on his right hand.

"Yeah, totally straight." Anna grinned with satisfaction.

Sherlock remained silent from the surprise. Surely John hadn't hit Jacob because of what he'd walked in on. Jacob must have said something. That was the only explanation - except all the evidence said otherwise.

Sherlock suddenly felt himself go a little light-headed as his heart rate increased.

"If I were you big brother…" Anna said at his side. "I'd go and grovel… a lot."

Sherlock was rushing towards the stairs before the last words were out of his step-sisters mouth.

"Sherlock?" Mary called. "Sherlock, what's happening?"

But the detective wasn't speaking; he was taking the steps two at a time.

~ SHERLOCK ~

John was packing away his things when Sherlock burst into the room breathlessly, causing Watson to jump.

"Dammit Sherlock." John snapped, clutching his chest.

Sherlock took in the sight before him and felt his heart sink. "You're leaving?"

John shrugged and glanced over at his flatmate, not answering straight away. "I think it would be best if I head back to Baker Street."

"Why?" Sherlock frowned.

John stared at him like he was the most brain-dead creature in existence. "Because, I just punched your boyfriend in the face in front of your family and their guests." He turned back to his bags, "Sorry about that by the way."

"He's not my boyfriend John - What you saw…"

"I'm not an idiot Sherlock, I know what I saw, I don't need a blow by blow account thank you." he murmured harshly. "I just…"

A heavy silence fell on the room. Sherlock shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "You're angry with me again."

John took a deep breath and released it with a huff. "I'm not angry Sherlock, I'm disappointed… again." Watson turned to glare at him. "After everything he did, after all those years of getting clean, why the hell would you go back to him? - And after everything I said."

Sherlock frowned. "How do you…"

"Anna. - She told me everything. - She was worried about you, with good reason apparently."

Knowing that John and Anna had been talking about him hit that sensitive nerve in Sherlock. He hated having his personal life discussed. He hated being told what he should or shouldn't do. Especially by idiotic people who didn't understand a thing. They had no idea who Sherlock Holmes was or what he wanted.

"I told you before John; don't make a hero out of me. Don't think that I think or feel the way you do, because I don't and never will do. I have my needs and have no intention of altering my life just to please you and my family." he snapped coolly.

John shook his head. "You're better than that Sherlock. We all see it."

"No John, I'm really not."

The two men stared at each other for a few intense moments before John turned away from the consulting detective, disappointment and anger blazing in his features.

"Fine." he sighed. "I'll see you back at Baker Street when you've finished feeding your addictions."

Sherlock lifted his head in an act of defiance, ignoring the painful pounding in his chest. He hated arguing with John, he hated John being mad at him. He hated his own damned arrogant pride. "Th-that's not necessary John."

"Yes it is. - I've spent the last twenty four hours lying to your family, which I'm sure they won't appreciate, especially after the scene down stairs. - Besides, I'm not going to stay here and watch you make a fucking idiot of yourself. - All I ask is that if you're bringing that bastard back with you, let me know so I can be out of the house."

"John I…" Sherlock's voice gave out. He couldn't say it. He couldn't beg John to stay any more than he could admit just what the doctor meant to him. It was easier just to let him go home. Let him calm down then after Christmas, with any luck, this whole ridiculous mess could be forgotten and they'd go back to normal. Sherlock could do that. - After all, he's spent six months ignoring his feelings for his flatmate, what was another fifty years.

"Very well John - I will return… after New Year." Sherlock stated. That should give him time to calm down. He thought.

John paused, staring down at his bag. His heart pounding in his throat so hard he had to swallow a few times to dislodge it. He hadn't been away from Sherlock longer than a night and the idea of almost a week away from the irritating man should make him sigh with pleasure, only it didn't. He was dreading it to the point of pain. He was beginning to wonder what was wrong with him. The words co-dependent screamed through his head. Maybe they needed this time away from each other.

"Ok." he murmured.

"I'll get Mycroft to have his car take you home."

"That won't be necessary Sherlock, I get the train."

"It's Christmas Day, John… there aren't any trains. - besides it's the least he can do after dragging you into this nonsense."

John wanted to argue but the thing about Sherlock was he was always right. So he remained silent as he watched the detective leave the room and tried his hardest to explain away the painful feeling in his gut as indigestion.

A/N: Sadly this might be my last post for a few days, you know Christmas Chaos. :( But don't worry, I may not be able to post but I will be writing. So hopefully you'll have the rest of the story after Boxing day. (fingers crossed)

Again wishing you happy holiday and see ya soon.

Gatergirl :D