Lestrade had given the boys a lift back to their flat. Sherlock sat in his arm chair in silence, fingers steepled under his chin. To John, Sherlock appeared to be in a serene state of thought, but this could not be farther from the truth. In fact, Sherlock's mind was flying at a speed almost unheard of, and all the racing thoughts were troubling him deeply. He was trying to suppress all these feelings. He had never before experienced such a crushing failure. This is my fault, his mental self taunted over and over. The only reason for Sherlock's calm demeanor was the fact that he was running through his mind palace trying to find a place to lock up all these thoughts and experiences.

John watched the detective for a moment. He found a wave of anger was bubbling up inside him. He had been shocked and mortified when Sherlock had heard the line go dead, and he couldn't help but to blame Sherlock, at least a little. Some part of John knew that was unfair and unreasonable, after all Sherlock hadn't strapped the old woman into the bomb blanket. But Sherlock had solved the puzzle, he'd known the answer, perhaps if he had revealed his knowledge earlier, the woman would still be alive

John began to worry that he was going to yell at Sherlock, so instead asked to the room in general, "Why is he doing this?"

Sherlock answered before he really even registered the question. "He wants to be distracted. I can't be the only one who gets bored."

John's mouth fell open. In that moment, he seriously considered crossing the room and punching Sherlock square in his beautiful face, maybe even hard enough to shatter one of those perfect cheekbones. But he stood perfectly still and gripped the back of his own armchair that he was standing behind. His grip was so tight that his knuckles were white and his wrists were beginning to ache. His voice shook with anger and disappointment as he said "Well, I hope you two will be very happy together."

"Sorry, what?" Sherlock glanced up at John. He's angry. He should be... Does he not want to be with me anymore? Sherlock mentally kicked himself over and over, trying to drive the thoughts out. Finally, he managed to shut down basically everything, detach himself once more. He'd learned this trick when he was a child, and he practiced it all the time, up until John had come into his life.

"There are lives at stake Sherlock! Actual human lives!" John was shouting, but his volume couldn't pierce Sherlock's mental walls now. Sherlock would have to come out on his own. "Just so I know, do you care about them at all?"

A question has been asked, and answer is required."Will caring about them help me save them?"

John shook his head, still gripping the armchair. "No."

"Then I will continue to not make that mistake."

"And you find that easy do you?

"Yes, very. Is that news to you?"

"No...no." John cast his gaze down. In truth it had surprised him. If Sherlock was telling the truth, then how could John ever expect to be in a happy relationship with the crazy detective? He believes caring is a mistake, so how can he possibly care about me?

"I've disappointed you," Sherlock said as he pulled out his phone and began rapidly typing.

"It's good, it's a good deduction, yeah."

"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did I wouldn't be one of them." The room was quiet for a moment, save for the clicking of Sherlock's phone. "I'm looking online, check the papers."

John stood motionless still, looking down at his feet. He felt a shiver run up his spine and he thought he might actually cry. He was considering telling Sherlock to piss off. I don't want to spend all my time caring for someone who can't care for me. I can't. I should just break this off now. The thought of breaking off their romantic entanglement was heartbreaking to John, especially since he believed a breakup would mean that they could no longer be friends. Could I bear never seeing Sherlock again?

"Oh, you're angry with me so you won't help. Not much cop this caring lark."

John looked up at Sherlock and their eyes locked. The tears at the edges of John's hazel eyes pierced through Sherlock's thick walls and brought him back to himself. He had not only disappointed John, but hurt him as well.

Sherlock opened his mouth and then shut it again, not sure what to say. Suddenly he felt he couldn't look John in the eye any longer. He cast his gaze down and slouched over, resting his head in his hands.

John watched the shift in Sherlock's demeanor. He wondered what it could mean. He's probably just bored with me. He took in a deep breath, certain that what he was about to say, would cause his tears to flow freely. "Sherlock, I can't love someone who doesn't even care about me..."

Sherlock's head whipped up, and his eyes frantically searched John's face. Please...please don't.

"I'm...sorry Sherlock." John turned his back on Sherlock and moved toward the door. Where will I go? As he reached a hand out for the handle he heard Sherlock stand, then he heard a loud crash. When he turned around, Sherlock was standing inches away. The crash had been Sherlock knocking over the lamp in his haste to get to John.

The detective threw his arms around John, grasping at him desperately. He was burying his face in the soft material of John's jumper. With one huge shuddering breath, Sherlock began to sob.

John found himself having to support most of Sherlock's weight, which granted wasn't very much, as the lanky man pressed against his chest and shook. John's own tears had stopped and he focused on simply trying to calm Sherlock down.

"Please...please don't...don't go...don't leave...don't leave me..." Sherlock's words were broken by the loud sobs and him trying to catch his breath. John could feel Sherlock's heart racing, and quickly identified this as a panic attack.

"Okay...It's okay Sherlock. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. It's okay. Shhh." John was rubbing his hands along Sherlock's back, trying to be as comforting as possible.

"I...I...I love you..."

John closed his eyes tightly, relief daring to edge into his brain. He was exhausted and stressed, but Sherlock had just told him that he loved him. "I love you too," John whispered into the mess of Sherlock's hair. "You are bloody frustrating, but I love you too."

Sherlock's breathing was beginning to slow, and he wasn't shaking quite so hard anymore. John gently tugged him over to the sofa, where they could both sit down.

Sherlock curled into John's side, keeping his head buried in the crook of John's neck, and his arms wrapped around John's middle. John continued to stroke Sherlock's back, every once and awhile making a soothing noise or reminding Sherlock that things were okay.

When Sherlock finally calmed down and stopped crying, he sat up slightly and looked at John. "Sorry," he mumbled.

" 's okay. I'm sorry too."

"Hey," John said and grabbed Sherlock's chin, pulling it up so that their gazes would meet. "This is not your fault. Some psychopath is strapping bombs to people and telling you to solve puzzles or those bombs will go off. That is the person to blame, not you."

"I do care John... I just don't like how this feels... failing I mean. I feel so...so... guilty. I didn't even think of how my words would affect you. Please believe me when I say that I care more about you than anything else in this world."

"I believe you. I don't know why I ever doubted you." John ran a hand over Sherlock's face, wiping away the last remnants of tears. He leaned in slowly, and pressed his lips to Sherlock's left cheek. John kissed softly and pulled away, tasting the saltiness from Sherlock's emotion. John then kissed the other cheek.

Their lips met. Both men's eyes fluttered closed and they let their mouths grind against each other. Sherlock's tongue grazed along John's upper lip, and John in response bit down slightly on Sherlock's lower lip. The kisses were gentle, which allowed for plenty of breaths to be taken, and rhythm to be maintained. Therefore, the kiss lasted for quite sometime.

Sherlock was gripping the collar of John's jumper, and John's hands were tangled in Sherlock's hair when the pink phone beeped with a message.