Work Text:
-z-
I don’t have “friends.”
A small voice in the back of your mind is screaming at you to go after him. To chase him down and beg him to come back to you.
Another voice whispers, It’s okay, John will come back. John always comes back.
You don’t see him again for the rest of the night.
The next morning, you put on the purple shirt – the one you know he loves, the one that makes him look at you just a little bit longer, the one that makes his touches just this side of lingering.
Listen, what I said before, I meant it. I don’t have friends.
And after everything is said and done, when the mystery is solved and the two of you are back in 221B, you pull him close.
You press your lips to his ear, to his jaw, to the corners of his mouth and you tell him all over again what he is to you and that you honestly never try to hurt him but yes, yes sometimes you’re just such an idiot.
I’ve just got one.
-z-
End.