Yes yes now I'm back :) Not really satisfied with this chapter, but school takes a lot of my time right now. Thank you for the PM:s, and please keep throwing your suggestions at me, it's nice to know what you want out of this story. Oh and thanks to my latest follower: alimela8 :)

Please review/comment! Lots of love to you all!

Chapter 6

John's little flame of hope died in a second. How could he ever have thought that Sherlock would care about him? That way he had said "sentiment" had clearly stated that he did not like the feeling, and what Sherlock didn't like, he usually got rid of (maybe except for Mycroft). Perhaps John overreacted a bit, but considering his newly discovered feelings for Sherlock he found himself to be rather vulnerable, and it actually hurt to see that even though Sherlock cared about him, he clearly didn't want to.

John cleared his throat a bit, to keep his voice from cracking, and then said "Stop caring then Sherlock. No one forces you." He stood up to leave the room when a hand suddenly gripped his arm, stopping him. "I can't John. I have tried, but I just can't." Sherlock caught himself and quickly corrected, "No I didn't mean it like that. I want to care about you John. I am just not used to this kind of feeling, I have never cared for another person before, if you don't count Mycroft, but I don't think we should. But I am afraid John, because caring is not an advantage. It puts you and me in a much greater danger. If my only vulnerability is you, who do you think will be the obvious target? It would be you, John. Which is why I haven't allowed myself to care before, but I can't stop anymore. It is too much too bare." Sherlock looked into John's eyes "I am sorry".

"No no Sherlock, don't apologize for caring." John turned back, and kneeling beside Sherlock's chair he said in a soft voice "Never apologize for being yourself Sherlock. If you, caring about me mean that I'm in greater danger, I would have it every day. I think most people have figured that out quicker than you actually, haven't you noticed how I'm usually the target when it comes to you?" John said, chuckling a little, more to ease the tension than anything else.

But Sherlock didn't smile. He still looked John straight in the eye. "You don't understand John. You will get hurt, some way or another. If not someone else, then I will hurt you in some way. That's why people always leave. Maybe you should too, before it is too late."

John suddenly felt very cold. He was listening to the other man and he couldn't believe what he was saying. The detective had never spoken like this before, about other people leaving, about the fear of doing something wrong. He didn't know what to say at first, but he finally decided to ask "Sherlock, do you want me to leave?"

Sherlock looked like John had punched him in the face. He was quiet for a minute and then he said quietly "I never want you to leave, John." John relaxed a bit after the words he longed for was spoken and, taking Sherlock's hand he said "Then I never will."

"Are you sure?"

"More than ever before." John stated in a voice that was both soothing, and clearly said that the discussion was over. But somehow he couldn't bring himself to move. It was a bit too nice sitting beside Sherlock like this. Sherlock seemed to have wandered off in his own thoughts, but he nevertheless kept John's hand in his. It was warm and comfortable, and John couldn't help but taking in the beauty of the moment. He watched Sherlock in a rather not-so-discreet way. He took in every inch of the other man's face, his closed eyes, and the full lips. His gaze wandered down to Sherlock's other hand, where the fingers danced across the thigh in a sort of random rhythm, and John realized the detective was composing. He wondered if it was subconsciously, and wished he could hear whatever it was Sherlock heard in his head.

Suddenly Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he watched John with such intensity that he almost felt it a bit hard to breathe. His heart-rate went up, and he cursed himself for blushing so easily. He was desperately trying to come up with anything to say, just to stop this, but all he could think about was the sudden urge to just lean forward and kiss him. He realized that this was becoming too dangerous and, reluctantly letting go of Sherlock's hand, he stood up. Sherlock's gaze followed him, and he looked thoughtful, a crease in his forehead as though he was working on a particular difficult clue. "I don't understand." He said slowly.

"What don't you understand Sherlock?" John asked, quickly going through their latest cases in his head, but couldn't come up with any missed clues. Sherlock stood up, facing John, once again looking directly into his eyes and mumbled "…but it seems like I'm right…"

"What Sherlock? Stop doing that, I can't follow you." John was feeling a bit uncomfortable under Sherlock's intense stare, and wanted to get out of the room and the weird atmosphere as quickly as possible, but at Sherlock's next words he found himself glued to the floor.

"I took your pulse, John"