Human Emotions

Chapter One

Sherlock was beginning to hate himself, not that he already didn't, it just was, that lately, he found himself not being able to think as clearly as usual. He felt strange when John was around him, but he also felt happy when he was near and Sherlock couldn't figure out what the cause was. It was an odd feeling, and it was quite comparable to the rush he got when he discovered the solution to a case. Despite being able to relate the strange feelings to his work, Sherlock still remained clueless as to what the culprit was. He hated not knowing, and he hated that his brain wasn't functioning normally, it impaired his case-solving capabilities. Consequently, Sherlock hadn't been able to solve a case in weeks. This coupled with the weird feelings he had towards John, set him on edge, the very edge.

"Hey Sherlock," began John, starting to ask a question. "Wh-" Sherlock cut him off.
"Must you always continue with asking ridiculous questions? John, it really is quite sad, doesn't your brain serve any purpose at all?" Sherlock snapped.
John stared at Sherlock, he looked slightly hurt but also angry and annoyed. "Well sorry, I suppose I could never hope to compete with your brain then could I?"
He looked up at John, his hands were pressed together in his usual position and he lifted his head from them. Sherlock wanted to apologize to John, like he'd taught him, but the funny feelings came back and he kept his mouth shut.
"Sherlock you have barely spoken a word for the last week and a half, and when you do you're always pissed about something, so tell me what the hell is wrong."
"John," Sherlock began, suddenly feeling a bit guilty.
"Yeah, spit it out will you," John was standing up, his hands clenched into right fists.
"You understand things that I don't, you understand feelings and people," he said slowly, not really knowing where else to begin.
"Yeah, I guess you could say that," replied John.
"What does it mean when your heart beats faster when someone is close to you and you feel lightheaded when they smile?" Sherlock questioned John, keeping his voice tempered and quiet, and to Sherlock's surprise John's face broke into a wide smile.
John threw his head back and laughed, he clasped his hands behind his head and let them fall back down to his sides, clearly relieved. "Sherlock is this what's been bothering you?"
"Yes John, I don't understand why you are laughing." Sherlock wore an expression of confusion on his face, the rare one he had for when he didn't understand something.
John chuckled a little bit more and then sat back down into his chair, leaning back. "Sherlock, I don't understand it either, I never thought you of all people..."  John trailed off, his expression was slightly melancholy, but still wrapped in the aftermath of his laughter.
Sherlock shifted suddenly to the edge of his seat, looking straight into John's eyes. His heart did that weird flip-flop it did whenever their gazes met. "What is it John, what does it mean??"
"Sherlock if I didn't know you better, I'd say that you were in love!" John looked like this idea was funny, but in the way that he thought it was impossible. John also looked kind of troubled, like he knew this fact, but it upset him.
Sherlock froze. His heart seemed to stop and he was motionless. Love?? His mind was racing, with the word, what does it mean, this is terrible, awful, horrendous, caring is not an advantage. He thought that he was immune to this kind of thing. He suddenly became aware of John calling his name.
"Sherlock? Sherlock? Are you okay?" He gazed intently towards him.
Sherlock stood straight up out of his seat, face still expressionless. He was rigid as a pole, and showed just about as much emotion. He didn't realize it at first but he found that he was reaching for his coat.
"Sherlock where are you going? Are you alright? I'm coming with you." John was beside him, looking very concerned.
"NO! No John, stay here. Stay here! I'm going out and you are not coming with me!" Sherlock didn't notice at first but he was yelling, loudly and his face was very hot.
"Sherlock what the bloody hell, what the HELL is going on with you!?" John was yelling now too.
"John I'm going out now, you stay here and don't follow me because if you do I will know about it," Sherlock spoke with venom, his words quiet but filled with anger.
"Yeah! Whatever fine, see if I care at all. I guess that's what friends are for huh, staying at home when someone CLEARLY needs them! Yeah, go on go, get the hell out!" John was yelling now, at the top of his lungs too.
Sherlock stared at John, he wanted to say something but his eyes were burning, and he couldn't think at all, so he grabbed his coat and scarf and left, the fire in his chest still burning white hot.