AN: It was intended to be a mellow chapter, but there is a little bit of drama. It's in a mostly Sherlocky point of view rather than John because... well you'll see why x)
Sorry about the lateness of this, I had exams x( - I haven't proofread this too because I didn't want to prolong it any more u_u;

CHAPTER 10

The weekend finally arrived and John was excited to finally have a day where he wasn't ignored, kidnapped or bedbound. He had just returned from the hospital and his relationship with Sherlock was improving. Of course, he had a big decision to make but for the moment he wanted to relax.

Sherlock was also excited at the baby steps that he and John were taking, he played a jubilant tune on his violin as he got lost in thought. It would not be long now until he could do all sorts with John, and he plotted how and where he'd do it - smirking devilishly as he did so. This weekend was focal for the two's progression, and he didn't want to waste it.

"Sorry Sherlock, gotta dash." John said as he hurriedly packed his essentials into his bag,

"Wait, what? What about lunch?" Sherlock asked in surprise,

"Gotta cancel it, something came up." He glanced in the mirror for a moment, and changed into another shirt. Without letting Sherlock reply, he took his bag and ran out of the door. The now lonesome roommate was about to run after him when he felt a slight dampness on the door handle,

"Sweaty palms? Shirt-not a jumper, nervous, vague response, new shampoo, different hair parting and a lot of cologne. Date. Gotta be a date." He pouted miserably at the thought of it, and a wave of boredom hit him, "Well, might as well follow him." He muttered to himself and he left not long after John. Of course, going out in his usual garb would not be suitable for stalking, or "roommate surveilance" as he called it, so he would have to wear something no one would expect him to wear; he left wearing a tracksuit, cap and sunglasses. He hated the texture of the synthetic fabric, and he despised how he had to wear his trousers at a height that flashed his boxers, but it was all for the greater good. Or at least he told himself that.

It was a cloudy day, and Sherlock didn't understand why people wore sunglasses in this sort of weather, but he carried on with his mission. John had entered Baker St. station. It was crowded with businessmen and travellers, so Sherlock had to fix his eyes on John like a hawk in order to not lose him - but he had already gotten good at that. The train wasn't too crowded luckily as it wasn't one of the more busy lines - Sherlock quietly hoped that John wouldn't change over to central. He hated the central line.

But he did.

Sherlock found himself stuck between masses and masses of people, but he was the lucky one: John, being as short as he was, was wedged in the middle of hot, damp armpits of people who were holding onto the bars above them. Although John was in such discomfort, Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle to himselfat the sight of it. Eventually the two left the train station, Sherlock still a couple meters behind him and. He followed John all the way into Chinatown, which was delightfully decorated with vivid red lanterns. As the street was filled with tourists, Sherlock had no trouble hiding himself as he watched John meet a girl, not much older than him, in front of a small cafe. Sherlock was filled with hurt at the sight of it, "How could he?" He thought to himself, returning to 221b dejectedly.

He entered the flat and sulked on his armchair as the aching sensation of betrayal overwhelmed him. The flat was silent, except from the murmur of the TV as he stared at it blankly while he waited.

It was late in the afternoon before John returned, and Sherlock had not moved at all. "Sherlock, what are you wearing?" He said, mouth agape at the sight of Sherlock wearing a tracksuit.

"A tracksuit," Sherlock said as if it was normal, before shouting at the TV, "Of course he's not the father, just look at the turn up on his jeans!" John almost fainted,

"First the clothing, and now Jeremy Kyle!" John yelled, "What the hell happened?" he turned off the TV, demanding attention from the gloomy roommate. He recieved no answer. "Sherlock!" John stood infront of him, and forced eye contact with Sherlock,

"None of your concern John," Sherlock snapped,

"W-what have I done now?"

"Oh, don't play dumb, I saw you with her."

"Her?"

"Yes, I never thought you were the type to cheat John." His voice was sharp and cold.

"Cheating?" His voice grew louder with each word, "There are two things that make that completely ridiculous!" He paused and rubbed his eyes, "First off, we're not going out, and secondly, that was my SISTER."

"Your sister?" A single eyebrow rose, "But you only have one sibling, and that was Harry,"

"Yes, Harry was short for Harriet." Sherlock's face was puzzled as he realised his simple mistake. Burying his face in his hand, Sherlock got up; he suddenly realised what he was wearing and was filled with a desire to change attire. As he removed his jacket, he returned to the main room,

"We're not going out?"

"What made you think that?"

"Th-the hospital..." His face blushed ever so slightly as Sherlock, for the first time, had a vulnerable expression on his face. He was genuinely hurt.

"I said I'd think about it." John said in a tone that came out a little harsher than he expected,

"Well, what do you think?"

"I don't know."

"For goodness sake John, stop being so indecisive, it's a simple matter, yes or no?"

"I don't know!"

"YES OR NO?" Sherlock demanded, there was a silence as he waited for a response.