Picking Up (A John!Lock FanFic)

A/N: okay, just a short JohnLock fanfic, nothing fancy!! Rated PG for some language, so if you're sensitive about that kind of stuff, just a warning!

John walked into his room, and found Sherlock in the same place that he had been in when he left... Yesterday morning.

"Um, Sherlock?" John looked at his friend, who didn't reply. He was reading one of his text books, but John noticed that he was still at the beginning- as if he hadn't even flipped the page.

"Have you done anything since yesterday?" He asked, tossing his things on his bed. John tried once again to get his flatmate's attention.

"Sherlock? Are you still there?" He walked over and attempted to make some sort of eye contact.

Nothing.

"Sherlock! What's the matter? Have I done something wrong? Are you giving me the silent treatment?" John started throwing questions at him, but his roommate continued to ignore them. John decided to clean up a bit of Sherlock's mess while he waited for some sort of answer. He picked up Sherlock's violin- carefully- from the end of the bed, and put it back in it's case, along with the bow. Then he plucked his school jumpers from the found, folding them nicely and setting them in his trunk.

"God Sherlock," he said as he picked up pieces of scribbled on notebook paper, "can't you clean up at all?" He began to put all of the used papers in the rubbish bin. Funny, there seems to be more than I remember.

"What are you doing?!" Finally Sherlock looked up at him, jumping off of the bed.

"I'm trying to clean up, Sherlock!" John went to throw another stack of papers away, but Sherlock ripped them out of his hands.

"Don't touch those! They're important!" John was a little taken aback- Sherlock never raised his voice, even when he was upset.

"If it's so important, maybe you shouldn't leave it on the floor!" John matched Sherlock's tone. The look on Sherlock's face told him he was ready to put up an argument.

"You don't need to be touching my things. They weren't in your way at all!"

"This is OUR dorm, Sherlock! Our dorm! We have to share it, and you can't just leave your things everywhere!"

"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do!"

"Then don't make me have to!"

"John, don't try and argue with me. It's is not your area of expertise." Sherlock's went from shouting to dangerously calm. "I am not the one at a fault here."

"You... Are you serious?! You haven't MOVED since I left YESTERDAY MORNING! You don't do anything to help keep the room clean, you're up at every hour of the morning plucking away on your FUCKING violin, there's always an experiment in the bathroom..." John trailed off, bewildered by Sherlock's obliviousness. He tried to talk, but John just plowed on. "You never eat, NEVER. You barely sleep, you can't clean up after yourself, and worst of all, you have absolutely NO respect for ANYONE! You insult me when you're bored, or when something hasn't gone your way- it doesn't matter whether or not it's MY fault. You laugh at me when I do something wrong, and don't say you don't, because you do! You're such a SHOW OFF. You always have to let people know that YOU'RE right, and THEY'RE wrong!" John paused long enough to catch his breath, and then kept going.

"You know, there is a bloody good reason Donovan and Anderson HATE you so much! It's because you're insufferable, rude, and you can't keep anything to yourself. You told people their secrets. Secrets aren't supposed to be told, Sherlock. SECRETS ARE SECRET. Which reminds me, how many times have you exploited something embarrassing about me or one of my friends during football? I get a bad wrap because of you. They call me The Freak's Friend. No one knows 'John Watson', but as soon as someone mentions 'Sherlock bloody Holmes', everyone laughs at his roommate. Dammit, I'm tired of it Sherlock. I am so, fucking tired of it." John's voice cracked, and his eyes stung with tears. He felt bad for saying everything he had, but not bad enough to apologize.

"John, I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize-" Sherlock let out a choked sob, drowning out the rest of his sentence. His bright blue eyes were full of tears, begging for John to understand.

"Don't try and apologize now, Sherlock. It's a bit late for that." John furiously wiped the tears from his cheeks and walked to the door.

"John! D-d-don't... Don't leave! Please!" Sherlock sobbed, launching himself across the room. All he met was the sound of a door slamming, his John walking out, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his shattered self all alone.

A/N: thanks for reading! I might do a sequel if I get good feedback about this story, so tell me what you think! Thanks :)

~Zimm