A Sociopath in-love: A Johnlock FanFic

76 hours without him

Friday
It was yet another rainy day in London, streets empty, tea pots boiling.
City was silent, rain sounds were covering every other sound, but Baker Street.
Sounds of gunshots , A hopeless detective shooting the wall in his little flat, 221B Baker Street.
'Bored'
Shoot
'Bored!'
Shoot
'Bored!!'
Shoot.

The sounds of gunshots were filling the whole street. Mrs Hudson was on a holiday, John probably was in another woman's bed. Why was John always gone whenever sherlock didn't have any cases to solve? Why was John gone whenever he needed him. He did know why. He always knew, but he didn't wanted to admit it to himself. He didn't want to admit that John was his friend.

Just a friend.

Red and blue lights, He already knew this was coming. Lestrade emerged into the room,

"What are you doing for gods sake! I've got at least 6 reports in 2 minutes. You could've gotten arrested if it wasn't me!"

But Sherlock didn't care. God knows what goes in that little ol' head of his. It's been 76 hours since he last had a case. The last time he had seen John. The last time he felt loved.

Saturday
Lestrade had taken his gun away for two days, according to law, which meant staying in the kitchen to do experiments.

Good thing he got a dead man's arm from Bart's before it started raining. It's been raining for 2 days straight now, and he had barely noticed it until he saw Lestrade dripping in water yesterday. He knew it was gonna rain, had predicted it almost a month ago. But somehow it slipped out of his mind. It was useless to know the weather, he didn't have a case to investigate. He didn't need to get out.

Sherlock was experimenting body hair growth after death. Would the answer help him in anyway? Who knows. Was it doing any help for his boredom? Oh yes it did.

It distracted Sherlock from the intrusive thoughts he had. His head filled with possible scenarios of John with other women. He knew where he was though. He knew what he was doing.

John wasn't interested in that woman he has been with for a month now. It was fairly obvious to Sherlock.

This was the thing with him, all his thoughts and predictions were just intrusive thoughts. He couldn't stop it from happening. He didn't try to be smart.

The woman he was with today, did have feelings for John though.
He wasn't sure if he felt okay with the thought of someone else loving him as much as he did. He brushed the thoughts away. He didn't want to feel this way.

He quickly made himself a cup of tea, of course with milk but no sugar.

John didn't use sugar, too.

Sherlock sat in his chair, staring at the empty place John always sits. He doesn't dare to to sit in his place, scared for his smell to be covered with his chemical-smelling clothes.

He started talking. To John. He always did, sometimes he forgot John wasn't even home. But he liked it. He liked taking to him, without talking to him.

Everywhere was John. Everywhere reminded him of John. He felt cared for whenever John was here. He couldn't escape those thoughts. He wanted to, though.

His whole life, he's been called many things. 'Psychopath'
'Weirdo'
'sociopath'
'Murderer'
'Disrespectful'

John never did.
"That was amazing"
Was the first ever compliment he has ever gotten about his abilities.
And it was from him.