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John shoved Sherlock roughly up against the wall, “Be angry! Get mad! Feel something! Don’t you feel anything?!”
Sherlock snarled, “No! I don’t! At least I didn’t! Not till you mussed everything about!”
Sherlock pulled at John’s jacket, crashing their lips together painfully. There was biting and tongues and then it was over as quickly as it started. Their breath mingled as they gasped for air.
John spoke between breaths, “Wait, what? What do I have to do with your emotional constipation?”
“Everything! I was fine, I solved cases, I caught criminals and put them away. But then you showed up, you and all your emotions and caring personality. You just couldn’t leave it be. Now when I see you my heart races, my palms get sweaty, and it gets hard to breath. I don’t like these feelings John! They make it hard to think! And that’s all I have John Watson! My brain!” Sherlock rambled on more but it all became too rushed for the doctor to understand.
Finally John just slapped him in the face. Sherlock’s eyes were wide with shock and his hand flew up to cradle his cheek.
“You know, for a genius, you’re a huge idiot.” John's look of hurt pulled at something deep in Sherlock's chest. John huffed with annoyance and fled the flat as fast as he could.
"Where are you going?" Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson say from the bottom of the stairs.
"Out!" John shouted just before he slammed the door.
Sherlock remained dumbstruck as he slid to the cold floor beneath his feet.
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Sherlock sulked on the couch for hours waiting for John to come back. He didn't though.
"Sherlock? Oh, dear. Have you been on that couch since John left?"
Sherlock grunted but didn't reply.
"Oh my, Sherlock that was hours ago, at lunch time. It's past supper now. Would you like me to fix you something? A nice soup?"
Sherlock shook his head slightly, "I'm not very hungry Mrs. Hudson."
She sighed, "I'll just make you a nice cup of tea then."
After fixing the tea she left with another pitying sigh and closed the door.
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"Thanks for putting up with me Greg, I didn't mean to be an imposition on you," John said as he laid out the extra blanket and pillow on Detective Lestrade's couch.
Lestrade grabbed two beers from his icebox and walked over to John, "Yeah, it's alright. Sometime I want to murder Sherlock and make it look like an accident too."
John chuckled and accepted the beer Greg handed him.
"So, what did that crazy bastard do now?" Lestrade asked taking a drink of his beer.
John rubbed the back of his neck, "Uh, that's a bit of a long story that you might not want to hear."
Greg sat down on the couch with a tired sigh, "Does that story start with a confession of how you want to fuck Sherlock?"
John choked on his beer as he was trying to take a drink, "What?! .... am I that obvious?"
Lestrade laughed, "Yes. So, what was the problem? Did he do that thing where he forgets that normal people have emotions?"
John managed a small smile, "Yeah, something like that." Greg just waited when John didn't continue right away. "Well, we had a fight about how he never cares. How he's all high and mighty and better than everyone else because he actually uses his brain. He's just an idiot."
John frowned and chugged the rest of his beer. Greg patted his back, "Yeah, but we can't kill him. We need him, both of us."
A small smile pulled at the corner of John's mouth. John grabbed another beer and they sat in silent companionship.
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It was past one in the morning and Sherlock moaned pathetically as he rolled over onto his other side on the couch. He looked out the window, rain poured down the glass and onto the quiet city street. 'Is John going to come back? How badly did I fuck up this time? Should I go after him? Should I give him space?' All these thoughts ran through Sherlock's brain, making him restless but finding it hard to want to move from his fetal position on the sofa. All the thoughts in his head came to no conclusion, and he remembered how annoying it was to have emotions for others.
Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs in her nightgown, "Sherlock, sweetheart? Oh, dear. You're still up? Is John going to come back? Have you eaten yet? You haven't even touched your tea..."
Sherlock launched up out of his spot, "Dear God woman! Yes, I am obviously still up, I have no idea if John will come back, no I haven't eaten, I'm not hungry, and no I haven't touched this dribble because you made the tea all wrong, only John does it right!"
The last words hung in the air. Sherlock muttered as he paced around the room, 'Only John does it right...'
Mrs. Hudson tried to make herself busy, cleaning up the cold cup of tea and shuffling together bits of scrap paper that cluttered the coffee table, "I don't know what happened between you boys but you better fix it Sherlock."
Sherlock made to protest but Mrs. Hudson ignored him, "Don’t you start with me, we all know it was probably something that you did or said. But John clearly loves you if he's stuck around for so long." She stopped fussing and looked Sherlock square in the eyes, "So, are you going to go get him or will I have to do it myself? I'm tired of all this moping about."
Sherlock was shocked at her bluntness but digested what she said and grabbed his coat and scarf as he dashed down the steps and out the door into the pouring rain.
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"I have an extra toothbrush in the first drawer under the sink in the bathroom. Help yourself and I'll set up the couch for you to sleep on." said Lestrade.
"Thanks again Greg." John said as he walked to the bathroom and brushed the taste of beer from his mouth.
Lestrade had set up the blankets and pillow when the door bell rang.
The door swung open, revealing a soaked to the bone Sherlock Holmes.
"Well, aren't you just the picture of a romantic cliche," Lestrade said with a cheeky grin.
Sherlock shivered uncontrollably and stared Lestrade down, "Can I talk with John?"
"How do you even know where I live?"
"Because I'm clever, remember? Now, please, I would really like to talk to John."
"Fine, but try not to drip water everywhere."
Lestrade stepped aside and let Sherlock come in, closing the door behind him.
"Who was at the door?" John walked out of the bathroom and froze. "Sherlock."
"John. Could we talk?"
"Are you going to apologize?" John said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Since this is going to be lengthy and awkward I'll go get you a towel and then leave so I can eavesdrop," Lestrade said as he got Sherlock a towel and left.
It was silent as Sherlock shivered. "Come on, you're going to get hypothermia."
John walked over and helped Sherlock take his coat and suit jacket off, he took the towel and ran it over Sherlock's head trying to dry off his soaked hair. He moved the towel out of Sherlock's face and his hands stilled. The consulting detective's eyes where downcast and sad.
John sighed, walked over to the couch and sat down, "Come here, you'll freeze to death if you keep standing there."
Sherlock took the space next to John, "I'm sorry John." He tried to come up with an excuse but, for the first time in a long time, words failed Sherlock.
John smiled sweetly at his flat mate and wrapped the towel around his shaking shoulders.
"You know I can't stay mad at you, with you're cheekbones and blue eyes. But you know that you have to try and be better, because I want to be with you."
Sherlock looked up into John's eyes and smiled that signature smile of his. And before John knew it, Sherlock jumped him with a hug that made John collapsed to the couch. Sherlock was sprawled on top of John, his wet hair tickled John's ear.
"Ah! Sherlock, you're all wet! It's soaking through to my clothes! Sherlock, get off!"
Sherlock just held tighter and buried his head in John's neck. John blushed and clutched at Sherlock's back.
"Ah! Come on, that's my couch!" Lestrade held up his hand to cover his eyes, "If you want to make out and cuddle, you have your own place."
John's face blushed brighter red and Sherlock turned his head to look at Greg and smiled. "Jealousy is an ugly color on you Lestrade."
The detective rolled his eyes and shooed the two out of his house.
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John pushed the door to their flat open and Sherlock followed him inside holding his hand.
“Oh, good.” Mrs. Hudson said from kitchen where she was tidying up again. “You two are back. I’m glad Sherlock apologized. It was going to be very troublesome to take care of Sherlock on my own again.”
John chuckled, “I’ll always look out for him, he pretty much needs me.”
Sherlock grumbled but didn’t argue.
“Of course. I was going to miss you, too, sweetheart.” Mrs. Hudson hugged them both and went down to bed.
Sherlock closed the door and looked up threw his lashes at John, “I do. Need you.”
John nodded and smiled, pulling Sherlock down for a kiss.
Genius or idiot, Sherlock was John’s.