When John awoke, it was not to the familiar smell of too-expensive shampoo, but to the leather smell of their now shared couch. How long had he slept? Judging by the sun outside, it was midday. He slept almost 12 hours. He had spent half a day doing nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, he was still quite busy worrying his balls off about Sherlock. There were no traces in the room to indicate he had come during the night, but it didn't hurt to check for himself. So John forved himself off the uncomfortable couch and waddled to the long corridor that ended in Sherlock's room.
He found no one in there. He really wasn't expecting to. He really wasn't. But maybe..no. John had not given up; far from it. But it sure felt like he had. He was out of ideas. Ugh, he should have never left Sherlock alone in the first place. The worst part was that he knew what the problem was. The worser part was that he wanted to fix it. And the most horrible part was that he couldn't. He couldn't and that in itself was heartbreaking. That was what tore at John. So John sulked again on the couch. Funny; that was Sherlock's job.
John's not sure how many hours passed by whilst he sulked. He's not sure of much now. He is sure, however, that he's curretly missing a part of himself. It was weird to explain it; they were both grown men, and while they had been away from each other for more than a day (or rather, Sherlock locked himself in his own mind for longer than a day at a time) yet these hours felt excruciating. It's not as if they had been dating that long either. 3 months. 3 beautiful, horrid months. But it had been longer than that, hadn't it? Even before the kiss that changed them; even before then, they had been together, had they not? They cared for each other. They loved each other. It didn't matter as to whether the love was romantic or platonic, they loved each other. And no one could convince John different. So why had he freaked out so much at what happened that previous night? Christ, it's only been one day hasn't it. It had just been a shock, John told himself. Of course they still loved each other. So what the hell was John doing sulking? No, sir, he was a soldier. He was a fighter. And it was his time to fight.
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Fanfiction"What mattered was now, this exact moment, when John loved him. What mattered was that Sherlock had found a reason to smile. What mattered was that John's fingers had found their way to Sherlock's chest and were gently running along his skin below h...