A/Note: Thanks wibblywobblydragonlady (good to see you again!) for favoriting my story. Many of you felt really sorry for Sherlock, and one guest reviewer was very mad at John for cheating on Maggie. Don't worry, John felt appropriately bad and did the only decent thing he could do about it. Needless to say, eventually things will get better for Sherlock.

But it'll be a while. Bwa-ha-ha. ;)

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8. The break up

For the next couple of weeks, John had a perpetual frown on his face. To Sherlock, that would indicate that whatever had happened that night, the experience had not been a positive one. So most likely, that could be the last they'd see of Allan (he hoped). He tried to read and pry and question, but without success. John got easily irritated these days.

Sherlock could not stop blaming himself. He could not shake the notion that, had he been by John's side that night, he would have never climbed into that car in the first place.

Maggie and John were also arguing a lot and, by the end of those two weeks, had a very public break up in the cafeteria. She cried out, stood up and ran away, in tears. After a while, John too got up and walked away, red faced, in the opposite direction. There were a few seconds lull, then the cafeteria exploded in a buzz of gossip. John, the much coveted rugby captain, was apparently solo again.

...

John opened the door and gave him a small smile.

'Thanks for coming, mate. I thought maybe you had given up on our Saturday trainings, with everything that happened in the past month.'

'And a half.'

'Yeah, well, sorry I missed many of our trainings to be with Maggie. Had I known we would break up this soon... The whole thing was such a mistake! Anyway, thanks again.'

Sherlock grunted, not knowing what to say. 'Where do you want to do this? From now on it'll be too cold and muddy outside.'

'I thought we could use the basement. My dad made part of it into a telly room, so there's carpet and not much furniture down there. Come on.'

Casting for something neutral to say, the best Sherlock could come up with was 'How's Harry? Is she home today?'

John sighed without looking back as he walked down the steps. 'No, she's not home. I tried to stop her from going out drinking, but we had yet another fight and she went anyway. I don't know why I bother. She's probably already pissed by now.'

Bad mistake. Sherlock didn't know what else to say, so he kept quiet.

'You've also seen the break up, I take?'

'It was impossible not to see it, John.'

John snorted, 'Yeah, I hate that the entire school saw it. I didn't plan it, it just happened. I made her cry and I feel bad about it. We talked afterwards, I apologized for it but it did no good. I broke up with her. I hurt her. God, I feel awful! Everybody must think I'm a bastard. Hell, I am such a bastard!'

He kept silent again. The room had only two sofas forming an "L", with a coffee table and a couple of end tables. He removed his jacket and started moving the coffee table out of the way. The carpet was too thin to cushion their falls, he thought with some disappointment. They would have to concentrate on techniques that did not involve grappling and throwing.

Once he turned around, John was sitting on one of the mismatched sofas, looking dejected. His old sweatshirt was loose on the collar and hung askew, showing off his collarbone. One arm hung between his legs as he held it with the other hand, as if wounded. His left foot was on top of the right, toes curled. Sherlock felt a pang of regret seeing him like this. He wanted to go to him, sit by his side, throw an arm around his shoulder and say "You are not a bastard. It's all fine". And kiss his collarbone.

He did nothing of the sort, obviously.

'Sherlock, I hope you don't mind, but I think I need talking more than I need sparring today.'

He was a bit alarmed, he was not good at talking about feelings. John must have read the panic on his face.

'Please Sherlock, just sit with me then. Can we just watch a movie instead? I just feel a bit - well - just not up for aggressiveness today.'

'All right.'

'Thanks, mate.'

John gathered a couple of pillows and lay on the smaller side sofa while Sherlock sat stiffly on the one facing the telly. He just couldn't figure out what else he should say or do. John was obviously a bit depressed, whether it was because of breaking up with Maggie or seeing Allan, he wasn't sure. "Seeing". Quite the euphemism, he thought a bit angrily. Star of the team, war hero airs, Mr. handsome-soldier-in-uniform showing off in his fatigues-

'Were you at one of the last games a couple of weeks ago, Sherlock?'

Sherlock's eyes widened. Luckily, John had not turned around and had kept his eyes on the movie. It was obvious he was also thinking about that night. 'Erm, I don't remember. Your games blend into one another to me.'

John chuckled, 'Yeah, that's true, you usually have no idea who we played against on the following day already. Well, that night, we got a visit from the last team captain, Allan. Do you remember him?' he kept staring straight ahead.

'I never paid much attention to sports, John.'

'Right. Anyway, he stopped by. It was good to see him.'

Now is the time to find out what happened. 'Was it?'

'Yeah, everybody liked him, that's why he was captain.'

'You are the captain now, remember?'

'True,' he smiled at the veiled compliment.

After a pause, Sherlock ventured, 'Were you close friends?'

'Eh, sorta.'

After another pause, he tried an innocent approach. 'So, is he at Uni now? What is he doing?'

'He- joined the army. He was here on leave for a couple of days. He had just finished basic training and was on his way to one of the bases abroad. Cyprus, I think.'

Good. Far away. Stay away. 'Are you still thinking of joining the army too?'

'I go back and forth. Not sure yet. Right at this second, no.'

'Good.'

'Why good?'

'Risky profession to be in, these days.'

'True, I guess.'

Another pause. 'John.'

'Yes?'

'Is he the one soldier you had issues with?'

John took a small intake of breath. 'That's- I guess yeah, that's him. And no, I don't want to talk about it.'

'What hap-'

'Sherlock, I don't want to talk about it!' After another pause he sighed and added, 'Sorry. Didn't mean to yell. I'm just-. Sorry.'

'It's fine.' So close, too direct. He thought of a cliché that fitted the situation, it was worth a try. 'If you ever feel you need to talk, I'm here, John.' No, too heavy handed, he'll see through it. 'You know I'm not good at that sort of thing, but I can try to listen.'

John thought about it and finally said 'I know. Thanks, mate.'

Nothing else came and Sherlock tried hard not to fidget as they sat looking at the telly in silence. The room's temperature seemed to have dropped and he pulled his jacket over, like a blanket. Half an hour or so later, Sherlock glanced at John and he had fallen asleep.

John looked adorable in his sleep. He fought an urge to card his fingers through that blond mop of hair of his. It looked so soft. He used this opportunity to just look at him as much as he had longed to do. He was able to study his face, his nose, his ears, his hands, his feet. As the soundtrack for the credits swelled, John stirred.

'Mmm? Ops, sorry, I fell asleep,' he rubbed his eyes.

'You haven't really missed anything. Stereotypical action movie drivel, predictable and boring.'

'How can an action movie be boring?' he yawned.

'You should know, you fell asleep.'

John snorted, 'Touche´.' He stretched, 'You know, I've missed this.'

' "This" being?'

'This banter with you. Maggie was nice, but all she wanted to talk about was us.'

'So is the break up permanent?'

'Yeah. No point in turning back. For both of us.'

'Is there someone else?'

'Why would you ask that?' John raised himself in a half turn, frowning at Sherlock.

'You just said "no point in turning back, for both of us". It seems to suggest-'

'No, there's no one! Look Sherlock, I'm tired of thinking about it, all right? I don't want to keep on talking about it.' He turned back to face the screen.

'Fine.'

'Good.'

Another pause as the credits still rolled. 'Argh, I'm sorry. Look, it's all fine, Sherlock. I just needed company today, that's all.'

'Right. Well, maybe I should go,' he stood up, a little disappointed. Things were too strained between them with all this sentiment overload on John's part. This was most definitely not his area and he was just making it worse and worse.

To his surprise, John also stood up and held his arm. 'Hey, do you want to go out and grab something to eat? If I stay home alone today I think I'll go crazy. Mum and dad won't be home until five thirty and God knows when Harry will be back.'

John still wanted his company. He kept his smile to himself as he nodded. He could still feel the imprint of John's hand in his arm. He had missed his touch.