Now edited by Swimmergirl0726.
John came home to find Sherlock happily engrossed in a large file of papers, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly something had caught his flatmate's attention, so maybe this weekend would turn out to be a little less unpleasant than the last.
He was incredibly tired and felt both sad and confused at the recent developments at the clinic, but he pushed them aside and gave all his attention to Sherlock; who was bouncing around the flat throwing out deductions and telling him over and over how brilliant things were… It made John genuinely smile for the first time in two weeks.
By eight o'clock they found themselves at New Scotland Yard, having spent an hour at the crime scene with Sherlock happily spouting deductions. John found that he didn't mind the cruel quips about his uselessness when Sherlock was so happy and asking for his opinion even though he didn't really need it. Any amount, of 'Annoying little git' and 'Pathetic little queer' were acceptable if it meant that he would be faced with that excited grin and Sherlock's warm hand on his back as he did his best to live up to the role of medical assistant to the genius detective.
Back at the yard John was beginning to feel the effects of two weeks of solid work and weekends of traipsing around crime scenes, and he was grateful when a young office temp handed him a large cup of coffee.
'Oh, the coffee machine must have broken again… let's hope it stays that way, the stuff from the shop downstairs is so much better.' Lestrade grinned happily as he saw that the coffee that had been delivered was in paper cups, and not in the standard white mugs of the office kitchen.
John wasn't sure that he cared, everything seemed to taste the same lately and he was too tired to care what coffee or tea tasted like any more…. It was just a vague stimulant to keep him from falling asleep, not that he ever slept very long anyway…
He realized that this was bad… that the past couple of weeks had been bad, and that he was letting them get to him. He remembered those months before he had met Sherlock, the way life had seemed to slip away from him, the numbness, the feeling of being completely on his own and life being utterly useless… it was not quite that bad this time… at least he had those moments of Sherlock dragging him around London, the thrill that he got from that manic grin…
He sipped at his coffee as he watched Sherlock work at the material on Lestrade's desk. It was almost therapeutic to sit there watching his flatmate puzzle together the pictures and clues, and for the first time in weeks John felt himself relax.
He was actually smiling when he lowered his coffee cup and, quite by accident, glanced inside it. His eyebrows shot up as he realized that there were words written inside it in permanent marker which the hot liquid had not been able to eradicate.
'John… are you enjoying my attention… it can be quite uncomfortable… you really should tell him… oh, and by the way, you may want to throw up.' John looked at the cup in confusion… what the hell did it mean?… but he had the feeling that he better obey the message… the confrontation from two weeks ago was still present at the back of his mind and it flashed to the front now with disturbing clarity.
"I'm just going to the toilet, be back in a sec.' He assured Sherlock and Lestrade before he headed off to the toilet to stick his fingers down his throat. He wondered if he was being paranoid as he retched into the toilet, bringing lashings of coffee up and heaving uncomfortably. Still, the warning he had received two weeks ago combined with the message in his cup made him decidedly uncomfortable.
Once he was sure that his stomach was thoroughly empty he returned to Lestrade's office where Sherlock was just advising Lestrade on the best way to make an arrest. Sherlock looked thrilled and Lestrade more than a little put out and John felt more comfortable than his current situation warranted as he folded up his mug and waited for Sherlock to finish.