Human Emotions

Chapter Four

Sherlock didn't move, no one ever really looked for him here, if he stayed still, whatever security guard or civilian would leave again, they always did. He tried to ignore the person behind the clock face, and looked back out over his city. He was not expecting what came next.
"Sherlock? Sherlock, are you up here?" It was John's voice.
Sherlock froze, he really was slipping, how did he not recognize John's tread on the stairs? He didn't want John to be here, he needed to bury these feelings and lock them away, and that could take him all night, if he even could manage such a task. The feelings were so intense and strong that Sherlock wondered if he'd ever be able to stifle them.
"Sherlock?" John called a final time. "Blast, I was sure he would be up here." John mumbled to himself, as an afterthought.
Sherlock paused again, he wasn't really sure what he wanted to do. He needed to tell John, but he didn't want to. John's inevitable rejection would break him, but he needed the pain to get over him. "Wait, John, I'm here." Sherlock didn't remember making a conscious decision to call out to him.
"Sherlock, thank god you're here, I really need to talk to you," Sherlock heard John step closer to where Sherlock was hiding. "Where are you?"
Sherlock came out from the other side of the clock face. "I'm here, John."
"Bloody hell Sherlock! Do you know how high up we are?" John suddenly looked very emotional.
"Of course I know how high up we are-"
John cut Sherlock off. "Please tell me," he swallowed and began again. "Please tell me you weren't thinking about," he paused again. "Jumping..."
Sherlock stared at John, face suddenly hot at the fact that John had gotten so worried so quickly. He took a large graceful step closer to John without really realizing it. "No of course not, I could never put you through that again."
John still looked a little shell-shocked but he nodded, fists clenched at his sides.
There was a long silence where Sherlock looked at John and John looked awkwardly at the floor. Watson broke it.
"So..." He began. "Are you going to tell me... Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"
"Going on with me?" Sherlock said, feigning nonchalance. "There's nothing going on with me."
"Right, that must be why you yelled at me and stormed out of Baker Street like someone lit a fire under your ass," John smiled slightly at the last word, the edges of his mouth turning up at the corners.
Sherlock gave a small smile back, and then looked at the floor. "How did you find me?"
"I thought you said you would know if I followed you," said John, looking a bit uncomfortable.
"I would, and you didn't. So I ask again: how did you find me?"
"I know that you come here," said John, looking at the floor too.
"No one knows that I come here except Mrs. Hudson and no one believes her."
"I believed her, it seemed just a bit too dramatic for you to be a lie." John smiled slightly again.
Sherlock smiled back. "I forget that you are the one person in the world who truly knows me, John."
John looked up, but whatever expression he'd had on his face when Sherlock spoke last had been erased and replaced with a business like look. "You still didn't answer my question."
"What was it? It seems to have slipped my mind." Sherlock turned away from John and walked back towards the clock face, disappointed that he had said such a thing to John and was met with so little response.
"Sherlock," John took a deep breath, as if steadying himself for the answer that Sherlock would have to give. "Who are you in love with?"
Sherlock pressed the palm of his hand against the cool face of the famous clock, knowing that he couldn't dodge how he was feeling any longer.