There'd been a lull in hours at the surgery, so John found himself yet again down in 221-A watching some mindless talk show and drinking tea with Mrs. Hudson. He sighed and eyed the tea askance, wondering if he should ask for one of her herbal soothers. His confusing feelings for Sherlock were leaving him jittery and edgy.
"Dear, is something on your mind?"
"Hm? Oh no, sorry. Just tired."
"Sherlock does run you ragged. You really ought to do something relaxing. What about a date?"
John squirmed. He wasn't ready to have the I can't keep a date because I suspect I'm in love with my flatmate conversation with his landlady. He often failed to give Mrs. Hudson the credit she was due though, and after weeks of chatting and telly, she could read him nearly as well as Sherlock could.
"You know, he's mad about you. Have you discussed it with him?"
"He's certainly mad. I think you're reading too much into things, he's too busy with work and whatnot."
Mrs. Hudson tutted. "Who do you think he talks to at three in the morning, when you're asleep? Trust me, whatever this is" her hands fluttered between John and the general direction of upstairs "it's not unrequited."
John hugged her gratefully and headed back upstairs, his mood suddenly buoyant.