John and Sherlock spent their time in silence as they watched telly, well Sherlock wasn't exactly paying attention to it, because he was more interested in his tea, or he was trying to understand his troublesome dream he had last night. Although he couldn't see it, John was very worried for his flatmate, as he should be. He doesn't know how long he can keep it up, hiding Sherlock in his room like some type of pet that wasn't allowed in the building, listening about his friend's painful attempts at remembering. And the most painful of all is having to see his friend struggle with not knowing or remembering when that's what Sherlock was known for, that brilliant, big brain. The brain that John…
'No stop it, that's not what you're supposed to be focused on. You're worried about Sherlock's wellbeing, you're not gay, remember that.' He mentally shouted at himself. But was it really so bad to….admire…yes that's the term, admire Sherlock's traits? But as far as John was concerned, he's not gay because he doesn't like men, just the….
'ENOUGH.'
John had to pause. He was really having an argument with himself.
'Jesus I need to get a grip.'
His eyes darted over to Sherlock who was now invested in the television, guess that was because the news reporter said something interesting. Maybe it was a murder and Sherlock wanted to hear more about it, hopefully.
A few more moments passed before John saw that Sherlock's tea cup was half-empty and completely neglected as the owner of the drink was facing the television with his hands pressed under his chin and his grey eyes, that usually had a color tint to it was fixated on the crap telly that was on. John didn't even know why he put it on, he was barely watching it, and the last thing he needed at the moment was to hear a crowd shouting their opinion on a man who insists that the child isn't theirs. Sherlock didn't seem to mind it though; occasionally he would look to John and ask, "Why is he denying the child is his? He has his eyes and nose!"
John smiled at the detective. At least he was entertained. John remembered the cold tea and then moved to get up.
"Finished with your tea, Sherlock?"
Sherlock stared as if he forgotten about it but then nodded.
"Yes."
As soon as John had the teacup in his hand, he heard Mrs. Hudson's footsteps on the stairs.
'Shit.'
As if someone was coming to kill them, John grabbed Sherlock's hand and placed a hand over the younger man's mouth so he wouldn't make any noise.
"Shh, listen to me, Sherlock; I'm going to need you to be very quiet…okay?"
Sherlock looked visibly confused and John fought every urge to burst out laughing at the expression as it's so rare on his face. He pulled Sherlock, rather harshly up the stairs that lead to his room and closed the door as soon as the main one opened. John and Sherlock were listening behind the door.
"Yoo-hoo!"
There were the two knocks on the door, Mrs. Hudson's way of letting John know that she was entering the flat.
"John!"
John kicked himself for being such a rude ass to his landlady, but he had to do this. He'll tell her…eventually…someday.
"Who is that?" Sherlock asked.
John pressed a finger to the soft lips and repeated what he said as they were running up the stairs.
"Shh, I promise, I'll tell you later, just for now…hush!" He whispered loudly.
Sherlock knew that John was serious and nodded and pressed his ear against the door. John hated having all of these secrets and having to keep them to himself. He was never the guy that people spilled their deepest and darkest secrets to, it just wasn't his style.
"John I just wanted to give you today's paper, I accidentally gave you yesterdays!"
She gave her rather adorable chuckle.
"Silly me, I guess!"
'Just set it down Mrs. Hudson, and please…go have one of your herbal soothers or something.'
Sherlock seemed curious as to what was going to happen next.
"Well, I'll just set it down here on your chair for whenever you decide to come back downstairs and continue watching your shows."
The door opened and closed and John couldn't be any more relieved. Sherlock was staring at John, and the doctor knew that it meant that he had questions.
With a sigh, John pushed himself off of the door and then faced Sherlock.
"Yes?"
"Will you answer my question now? Who is that lady?"
John placed a hand on the back of his head and started to rub it slowly. This was difficult to explain, or was he just making it out to be difficult? He didn't know and he didn't care. Answering Sherlock's question was important.
"That's Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock. She's…my…landlady.
"So what's wrong with her?"
"Pardon?"
Sherlock spoke slower, because he thought John didn't understand what he said.
"Why are we hiding from her?"
'Because you're supposed to be dead, that's why I'm hiding YOU.'
John couldn't say that to Sherlock, even if he did, not only would it wreck him to say it to his face, but then there would be so many questions that Sherlock would want to ask and they would probably be things John wouldn't have the answer to.
"We're hiding from her because…"
'All these lies are going to bite me in the ass one day.'
"You're not supposed to be here right now."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. John knew how ridiculous he sounded but this was the only option.
"You're supposed to be away, in another country, doing…important stuff…"
"Like what?"
"That's not important right now. What is important is not letting Mrs. Hudson see you, okay?"
Sherlock was pondering this in his head, thinking about an answer. He finally agreed, much to John's fortune.
"I'm not sure about what's going on, but okay."
John looked down at his watch and grimaced at the time. He was half an hour late for work thanks to all of this madness. John started to flutter about his room, getting his work clothes ready so he can hurry up and change and not be any later. Sherlock was standing there watching him with his eyes fixated on John's.
'God now's not the time to distract me with "that face", Sherlock.'
"Where are you going?"
"To work, Sherlock, I got to make the money somehow."
Sherlock answered after a short bout of silence.
"Well why don't you stay here?"
John felt like he just looked at a kick puppy. Sherlock was already uncomfortable in being in 221b, but besides Mycroft, John is the only other face he knows. John hated to leave him alone, but he wouldn't be gone for long, and if Sherlock listens to him, nothing will happen.
"I can't, I've already taken too many days off. I have to go in today."
Sherlock looked down.
"Well what am I supposed to do while you're gone?"
"Anything you want. Just don't go downstairs to watch the telly, stay up here."
"And if I need to use the bathroom?"
"You can go downstairs and use the bathroom. And if you get hungry, there should be a pack of biscuits in the cabinet. No tea."
Sherlock nodded. Sometimes John felt like he was talking to a child, but it wasn't John's fault, and it wasn't Sherlock's fault either. Blame Moriarty for this. That's what John is trying to do.
John dashed downstairs to get dressed, and then returned shortly with his clothes on, coming to get his jacket.
"I won't be gone long, Sherlock. I'm sure you can manage."
Sherlock's head hung as he nodded grudgingly. He moved to sit down on John's bed.
"Can I at least watch the telly up here?"
John gave a curt nod.
"Just keep it low."
"Okay."
John moved to the door and gave Sherlock a quick once over before heading downstairs. As he passed Mrs. Hudson's apartment, he gave a quick, "I'm off to work now, see you later Mrs. Hudson!"
When the front door was closed, Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat with her arms crossed. She wasn't mad; she was just…puzzled at John's actions as of late. Not dwelling too much on it, she looked upstairs and muttered to herself, "I guess I can dust the room now."
A/N: I'm sorry if it seems a bit dull right now, I promise it will start picking up pace in the next chapter!