Nothing Like Love and Everything Like a Phoenix

Chapter Four

John wasn't too sure Sherlock got into his house. He had blurred memories of trying to push him away, of telling him that he couldn't come in, but all he knew was Sherlock was lying on his bed, flicking ash everywhere, threatening to set his room, and his life, on fire.

John was pacing.

He had to get him out. He had to stop this before he got too involved. He had to--

"What're you thinking about?" Sherlock cut in.

"Nothing you have a part of."

"I politely disagree."

"I wouldn't think of you as polite."

"What would you think of me as then?"

Fire. A wildfire.

"An ass." John tilted his head up, "Too arrogant for your own good."

"So arrogant is your type then?"

John sputtered, "You are most certainly not my type."

"Last week would also politely disagree."

"Last week was something that shouldn't have happened."

Sherlock shrugged. John wanted to punch him.

"Do you always dress like that?" Sherlock asked, flicking ash onto his carpet.

"I could ask you the same."

"But alas, I asked first."

John sighed, "Why do you care?"

"You look like a stuffed animal."

John pulled at his sweater vest, "I think it's fine."

"I think it's more than fine. I'm just curious."

Damn your curiosity.

"Why are you here anyway?"

"To berate you on how you decorate your room."

John looked around. There was nothing wrong with his room. He kept it neat and tidy, made his bed every morning, cleaned off his desk every night. He had a few movie posters up, and a few comic books strewn about, but besides that everything was normal...plain almost.

Sherlock sucked in a breath free of cigarette smoke, "Did you enjoy it?" His head dropped to one side. He wasn't looking at John, "I mean, you certainly did in the moment, but do you regret it now?"