Disclaimer: I still own nothing…...but I wish these men were all mine.
Every few months, Sherlock would become unbearable. John knew that most people thought of Sherlock as unbearable at all times, but really normally he was like a cuddly teddy bear compared to now. He knew it was overstimulation. Sherlock's brain never really let him relax; it was a machine that never stopped running. He could only hold the madness at bay for so long before he had to do something. John had watched Sherlock go through this cycle many times. He tried to help but he knew Sherlock would never accept his assistance. Not with this. Instead, he was forced to sit back and watch until Sherlock erupted. He never saw the actual eruption, but he knew it happened. When Sherlock would come home after, he was always so calm. He would talk to John; tell him things about himself that he would say at no other time. John came to treasure these days. He planned his life around them, making sure that he was home so he could share these moments with his normally impenetrable flatmate.
There came a time however, when John was no longer satisfied with being there for the calm after the storm. He wanted to follow Sherlock. He wanted to see where Sherlock went and what he did. He needed to know. But John could not bring himself to do so without Sherlock's permission. He was perfectly capable of following Sherlock without being seen, something which really annoyed the genius, but in the week leading up to what John knew would be another secretive evening for his flatmate, John started following Sherlock openly. A normal person would never have noticed him, but Sherlock would never be accused of being normal. After several days of this odd surveillance, he knew the night had come. They had been called on a case earlier that day. The case itself was a simple one. Sherlock solved it within five minutes. The moment that sent Sherlock over the edge, came as they were leaving. He had tossed a few insults back and forth with Anderson and Donovan as per usual, but Anderson took offense at Sherlock finding a piece of evidence on the body that he had overlooked.
"Freak!" Anderson called.
Sherlock stiffened but did not stop walking. However, something in his tone stopped John in his tracks.
"Don't ignore me you smug bastard! I'm talking to you!" Anderson yelled.
Sherlock must have noticed John's absence at his side and turned to look at him as Anderson came closer.
"Don't look at your bum boy; I'm the one talking to you! You think you're so bloody…." Anderson never finished his sentence since Sherlock threw him into the wall.
John couldn't see Sherlock's face as he was behind him, but the fear on Anderson's told him that Sherlock must have murder in his eyes.
"What did you call him?" Sherlock whispered.
Normally, his whisper would have been too low for anyone to hear, but the room had fallen silent the second Anderson's back hit the wall.
"I..I…umm" Anderson stuttered stupidly.
"Apologize." Sherlock was still whispering.
"What?" Anderson sounded thoroughly confused.
John could practically hear Sherlock's eyebrow rise, did Anderson really not know how much he hates to repeat himself?
Anderson's eyes shot over to John and back to Sherlock several times, obviously considering his options. He seemed to come to the realization that no one was coming to his rescue.
Looking over to John he said, "Umm I'm sorry." Sherlock shook him roughly. "I sincerely apologize umm John." Another shake. "Umm Dr Watson."
Sherlock released him and turned to John; his face completely blank. "Shall we?"
John smirked and led the way out.
That evening Sherlock refused to eat. Usually John could cajole him into at least nibbling off of his own plate when they weren't in the middle of a case, but nothing he did or said worked. He knew that meant that Sherlock was still furious. He kept standing up, pacing around the flat and then curling back into the chair like a marionette. He knew what Sherlock was struggling with and he was about to let him off the hook when Sherlock suddenly seemed to come to a decision. He stood and stared into John's eyes and smiled. Then he grabbed his coat and scarf and bounded down the stairs. John waited until the door closed, then grabbed his own coat and followed.