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It’s over.
Maybe for a moment, he didn’t think it’d be over. Maybe he might have thought of several unpleasant things about his flatmate (even though he doesn’t actually believe in any of them).
He did feel his heart aching and his mind reeling and he walked too quickly through the London streets without really thinking about anything else and then he remembered that he needed a place to stay but he couldn’t go back, he didn’t want to go back, his hands were still closed tightly into fists in anger. So, he thought of Mike and went to his house, telling him that he’d spend the night and Mike asked him “Why?” and John answered, “Ah, y’know. Issues”, and Mike didn’t ask any further questions because, thankfully, he knows Sherlock, so he knows what John meant by “Issues.”
But it’s over now.
John can’t stay at Mike’s house forever. It doesn’t matter how frustrated or sad or overwhelmed he might’ve felt—he can’t stay at Mike’s house forever. There’s just something about that flat, and the person who’s currently living in that flat. It’s like a magnet pulling him in.
The truth is…John can’t get mad at Sherlock. Sure, he feels upset occasionally and he’ll fight with Sherlock and he might even say some things that, at the end of the day, he didn’t mean to say but it’s because Sherlock pushes this narrative where he doesn’t care about feelings and doesn’t matter how many times Sherlock says it, or even displays it, John can’t believe it. He just can’t believe it. And that’s why he keeps provoking Sherlock, it’s as if he’s searching for proof that Sherlock isn’t just some emotionless man.
But he knows, and he knows that Sherlock knows that he knows, that this isn’t true.
He saw Sherlock kiss Mrs. Hudson’s cheek. When he mentioned that the flat was a mess, Sherlock began to tidy some things up. And Lestrade believes that Sherlock is a great man but John already believes that Sherlock is a good man. For some reason. Even though they’ve been living together for only, what, two, three weeks?
John doesn’t understand what’s wrong with him.
All of these intense emotions and acute convictions. Was he really that lonely?
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because it’s over and John won’t be thinking about any of this for a while until he starts to think about it all over again, and the process repeats itself.
He takes his coat and has tea with toasts that Mike has made and then he tells him that he’d be off and Mike says goodbye and John leaves, making his way back to 221B, Baker Street.
Opening the door and stepping inside, John sees Mrs. Hudson making her way to her café.
“Morning, Mrs. Hudson,” John says.
“Morning, dear,” Mrs. Hudson hums. “I heard some noises coming from upstairs. Did you two have another domestic?”
Just ignore it. “Sort of,” John sighs, making his way up the stairs.
“Oh, it happens. But I believe you and Sherlock will get through this,” John hears Mrs. Hudson say as he reaches the top and opens the door.
“Sherlock, I’m–” John trails off as he finds Sherlock lying down on the sofa, cuddled up to his jumper.
John isn’t given the time to properly react to this when Sherlock stretches himself against the sofa, murmuring, “Oh, good” and then he untangles himself from John’s jumper, standing up from the sofa and walking towards him.
“Now, I can do it with the real one,” Sherlock says, leaning down and pressing his face into the crook of John’s neck before wrapping his arms around his waist.
John is paralyzed but his heart is beating wildly and he’s sure Sherlock can hear it.
What is Sherlock doing? Embracing him. Well, he knows but why? And he was holding John’s jumper to his chest, like someone would do when their lover is far away but that–
“I missed you,” Sherlock mumbles against John’s skin and his voice shakes his entire body.
“Ah, uh,” John stutters stupidly. “I– I was out for only one night.”
“That’s too long,” Sherlock says, tightening his grip around John.
John realizes that Sherlock is being serious, so he takes a deep breath and finally relaxes, slowly lifting his arms and hugging him back. “I, uh. Missed you, too.”
“Are you going to do it again?”
“Do what again?”
“Leave.”
John feels his heart aching all over again but for a different reason. “I’m going to try not to.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
Sherlock languidly pulls himself back, his hands holding John’s waist. “Good,” he says, letting John go and walking towards the sofa, picking the jumper up and giving it to John before going to the hallway and stepping inside the bathroom.
John looks at his jumper in his hands.
Maybe what just happened between the two of them is the proof John has been looking for.