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"New case?"

John's words from the morning replayed in his mind caused Sherlock pain again. He was on his unkempt bed, lying in a foetal position facing the wall.

Is that the only reason you could think of that I look like this John? Couldn't it be that I missed you? I wanted you to be back so badly that I couldn't concentrate on anything else? Couldn't it be that I realised something? Don't I feel anything else than… oh yes of course, I've always told you so. I made myself a monster in your eyes, who am I to complain about your perception?

"When did you last sleep?"

I can't sleep John. I can't sleep because I'll have to wake up to your absence. It'll all come back to me in a flash. I may as well scream for tea forgetting everything. It's better that I don't open my eyes to this emptiness. It's better that I don't close them to be opened to oblivion and pain. You know why I haven't taken any drugs John? Because I'll hallucinate you. It'll pain me more instead.

Why haven't you moved on John? You told me you would? Is one week a very short time to move on? It seems so long to me. Why haven't I been out? Where would I go? You make me work John, without you I don't. nothing does. My experiments fail, I just stand at a crime scene and fail to think rapidly. I've embarrassed myself twice this week like that. So I just don't go. Solve on the phone if I can. I don't go out for food, when did I do that if not with you. I don't have any other friend. I have no one except for you. I saw that look on your face today, when your emotions were giving away for a moment. Why didn't you let them John? I promise I wouldn't have let you down. No! the question is why you still had them for me, I don't deserve them anymore.

You won't listen to me, would you John? Listen to my blabbering? I want to tell you so many things. The first thing I want to tell you that I don't deserve you. I don't deserve you coming down to visit me, I don't deserve you still worrying about me. I don't deserve your touch anymore, I've violated and misused it so much. I deserve your anger John, I deserve your hatred. I deserve to see you with someone else, happy, someone who really deserves you. No John, those women who loved you were not incorrigible, they knew what they had. Very unlike me, they knew how special you were. I came between you and your relationships so many times, if it was not for me you surely would have moved on by now. You didn't notice how I came in between neither did I. How you were always occupied on a case or had to cancel a dinner date because I needed you. Just to prevent me from taking drugs you would stay behind. People left you for me. But you never left me, until I made you. You were always occupied with me and you never complained. I took it for granted, I took you for granted John. I had the audacity to think that I gave you a life worth living when it was you who gave up everything he could have had, everything you deserved for a monster like me and made my life worth living. I want to tell you John that I was just walking and seeing life before you came, I started observing, craving, living life after you came, you appreciated, you cared…you loved.

I want to tell you John that I'm a liar.

I want to tell you that I had false pride.

I want to tell you how right you were.

I want to tell you that I realise now what you are to me.

I want to tell you that I lo…

John's footsteps on the stairs broke into Sherlock's monologue. He was startled. He felt John going into the kitchen, putting things on the counter. Trying very hard to make some space on the kitchen table, dropping a few things in the process. Clearing the sink, trying to find equipment for making tea. Putting things in the fridge, swearing at the things he finds inside. Just like he did before leaving.

He's back! Why is he back? Has he pitied me? my condition? Has he changed his mind?

With a mind riddled with questions Sherlock got up and went to the kitchen. He was greeted with the warm familiar sight of John making tea.

Sensing Sherlock John turned and met his gaze.

"Hi, I came back…" Because I couldn't leave you like this. "Because I thought you could use something uh…other than nicotine patches."

Doesn't your generosity have any limits John? Sherlock tried very hard to say something, to express his gratitude, to ask for forgiveness, to say that it was too good for him but all he could manage was some incoherent words.

"I…John…this…help…not…I…"

John sighed. "Look, why don't you take a bath, clean-up a bit while I arrange some food." It was becoming increasingly necessary to get Sherlock out of the room. John needed space. Everything going on was taking a toll. He wanted to manage things and get back as early as possible. Every cell in his body was screaming get out! But he couldn't, because he thought he shouldn't. Isn't this the man he claimed he loved? His love was not retuned, but that didn't mean he should be able to kill the feeling for this man. Nobody could. Nobody human enough could. Because once you love this man, this enigma, this angel, this almost celestial being called Sherlock Holmes you just keep falling deeper and deeper. There was no way out.

Sherlock was being very obedient and very silent. By the time John left he had resorted some of the man he had left behind a week ago.

"Don't empty the fridge again. Remember your supplies." With those hurried words John ran down the stairs. He heard a faint "Bye, John."

Just outside he bumped into their landlady.

"Oh! How good of you to come down! How is he now? I bet very happy." Said she glowing.

"Yeah, is…okay." John was at a loss of words.

"John? He is very unhappy without you." Mrs Hudson's face was filled with concern.

John smiled at her, you don't know Mrs Hudson, you don't know your favourite boy.

He gave her a small warm hug and turned to leave. He had taken only a few steps when he heard Mrs Hudson calling him. He turned to look.

"This was not planned you know."

Oh great now she was reading him too. With an exasperated sigh John turned and started walking again.

He tried to get his mind off things. He took a deep breath and let the cold air cleanse his system. He took in every single minute details of the daily life on the road. Shops, people, cars, the buzz, the smell, the mannequins wearing bright cloths on the window displays.

John halted as realisation hit him. A person almost stumbled on him in the process.

"Sorry…sorry I…"

The shirt that Sherlock was wearing…

"It doesn't fit me."

"Why did you buy it?"

"It seemed it would."

"God! John, you still haven't lost any of that weight you came here with? After all this running around!"

"Can you just please…Oh sod this. Your highness wouldn't wear cloths discarded by me anyway. I'm just wasting…"

"Put it in my closet."

"Sorry? What?"

"You heard me."

"Are you actually…"

"I can use it as a costume someday!"

"Oh you bloody arrogant self-obsessed idiot!"

It was that shirt! My shirt!

John stood there looking back at the way he came down.