"Come on, talk to me, I said I was sorry," John leaned against the door behind him. He'd been trying to get Sherlock to talk to him again for three hours straight with no results. There had been no response other than a short fuck off.
"Sherlock, please, look, I know it was none of my business. What you do with your time is your cup of tea. It only becomes my concern when it hurts you or is bad for you, alright? I'm your friend and also your doctor." He listened for a response from Sherlock…nothing. Great. What a horrible day, he hoped Molly had more luck with her date.
If John was honest with himself, this wasn't really his fault. He was just concerned and confused. What he had seen in that warehouse bothered him and he wanted to know what Sherlock had bought. From the sound of it probably drugs, John thought, grimacing at the thought. This was a disaster! What if Sherlock knew he had followed him? Then he was screwed, oh God, he was so screwed.
"You are right in one point," John heard the detective say quietly, "it is absolutely none of your business what I do. I can do what I want." "Even if what you do is buying drugs? I think then I have the right to be concerned." There was no reply from him for a while and John cursed himself for saying that. He was great at making a bad situation even worse.
"So you think I bought drugs? That would be a pretty good deduction from just seeing me when I came back home," John closed his eyes, yup, he was screwed. "Which makes me wonder," Sherlock continued, "and question if you stayed here while I was away. Because I think you followed me, didn't you, John?" The doctor bit his lip, should he answer? It hadn't sounded like a question. "This leads us to a conclusion. You don't trust me," he continued and John perked up, frowning. "I do trust you, Sherlock."
"Oh really? Because you trust me oh so much you decided to follow me without my consent and thought you could shrug this incident off without me noticing you spied on me. Conclusion? You don't trust me."
The offended man stood up and rested his forehead against the door. "In my defence, you drugged me once! So I'm sorry if I sometimes am suspicious of your activities. Furthermore, I was right! You said you'd buy milk, so where's the milk, hm? You even left your wallet here!"
"My coat has pockets! I can store my money there."
"Sherlock," John sighed and shook his head, "I don't want to argue with you. I just want to know, did you buy drugs?"
Silence. He waited for roughly a minute before he heard some shuffling and footsteps. "I did not purchase cocaine." John huffed a laugh, "doesn't really answer my question."
He heard a scoff, "yes it does. I did not buy drugs, not he kind you are thinking of, well, technically it's not a drug at all." "Is it illegal?" "…yes." Great, just great.
"What is it? I won't be angry," John tried to reason, confused what he had purchased from the man. "I can't tell you." "Of course you can, come on, Sherlock." He knocked at the door again, "I said I won't be angry with you, you can tell me, I'm your friend." He heard nothing for a few moments. "Go away."
"At least tell my why it's illegal," he needed to know, come on Sherlock. "It has some side effects, but I've never experienced any, so don't worry. Can you leave me alone now?"
"No I can't, not before you tell me," John answered and heaved a sigh, why was everything always so difficult with Sherlock? Couldn't he just let him know what it was?
"I really can't tell you," Sherlock said silently, making John frown. What could be so bad? Now he was genuinely worried. "Sherlock?" he asked gently. The lock was suddenly opened and John stepped back as the door swung open. The consulting detective held a syringe, the transparent liquid still inside. Puzzled John looked at him, taking in his almost worried expression. Sherlock, worried? Not good.
"I ran out of them so I had to buy new ones," Sherlock informed him, not looking at the blogger, his appearance unreadable again. "I couldn't tell you, this could have-, this might ruin our friendship which I hold in high regards. Don't judge me, I never wanted to take this stuff, but the situation I was in gave me no other choice."
The smaller man stared at him wide-eyed, not knowing what to say. Ruin their friendship? What was going on?
Sherlock now appeared nervous, running a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but at John. He seemed to be almost ill, the blond noticed. "John, promise me things will stay the same." "I can't promise you that without knowing what the hell is going on! What are you talking about, ruining our friendship?" he replied incredulous.
"Do you remember our conversation this morning? Sherlock asked him, "we were talking about the Light and you couldn't believe I had never experienced it." "Yes?" John answered confused, still not getting his point. What was he talking about?
"I lied." he mumbled and finally met his eye, "I took this stuff because it prevents the Light from showing."
And now John could see it, the faint glow coming from Sherlock's chest and he gaped at him, disbelief showing on his face. No, no, oh God, it couldn't be. "You- you have feelings, you have feelings for-," me, he finished the sentenced in his thoughts, not being able to say it out loud. But this couldn't possibly be, Sherlock didn't feel that way, mister 'married to his work'. Sherlock laughed at couples, said love was for idiots, scoffed at any mentioning of this 'chemical defect'. No, John thought, he must be tricking him, except he didn't look like he wanted to make a fool out of him. He gave the impression of wanting to take back every word he had said.
"I-I need to get some air," John uttered and fled from Sherlock, grabbing his jacket and leaving his friend alone in the flat.