Loving The Sociopath (Johnlock)

Jealousy

Sherlock had been gone for nearly 2 hours. He said he was just popping out to get something from the shops and that he’d be back in little under a half hour. John was starting to panic. He hasn’t been kidnapped has he?

John decided to think of all the possible scenarios, and eventually narrowed it down to 2 reasons:

-          He had bumped into Lestrade on the way and had been given a case. He was so excited that he had gone without letting John know where he was off too. (They hadn’t had a case in weeks so that’d be quite understandable).

Or

-          He had been approached by one of Mycroft’s cars and was sent immediately to discuss ‘matters of importance’.

Those were both logical reasons; therefore John decided to have a nap – not worrying as to where his flatmate was.

***

The front door slammed shut, making the doctor jump. He opened his eyes and repositioned himself in his chair. Sherlock was standing by the door untying the blue scar from around his neck and hanging up his coat.

“Oh, so you are alive then” John commented sarcastically. He was beyond pissed off that Sherlock had now been gone…4 hours…and he hadn’t even bothered to text him!

“Obviously?” The detective replied in a ‘duh’ sounding tone. That really did it.

“Sherlock - you’ve been gone for 4 hours and you didn’t even take in to consideration that I may have been really worried about you, which I was by the way, and now you come sauntering back in here and don’t even have the decency to apologise for not letting me know! Where were you?”

Sherlock looked at John dumbfounded. He hated upsetting his flatmate. But what he hated most was hiding away his plan from him.

“I- I" Sherlock tried to think up an excuse. “I was with...Irene.” 

John's could almost hear his own heart shatter as Sherlock said these words to him.

You see, John had been in love with the detective for almost a year. Every now and then Sherlock made subtle hints that he might like the doctor back - until Irene Adler came into the picture.

That woman was intelligent, attractive, observant and well-trained when it came to firing a gun, or with any weaponry and self-defence come to think of it; she was basically a female version of Sherlock Holmes. All she needed now was a deerstalker, a blue scarf and a female version of John.

John blinked back the tears that pricked the back of his eyes and clenched his fists to calm himself down.

“R-right. What did she want, I wonder? ‘Oh Sherlock, if you help me in the shop, I could help you in the bedroom if you know what I mean.‘“ John made his voice a pitch higher to imitate Adler‘s.

Sherlock sensed John‘s odd behaviour, and straight away knew as to why the doctor was so angry: he was jealous, envious even. It was so obvious that might as well have made a banner declaring his envy.

This made the consulting detective‘s heart flutter. He took 3 long strides and positioned himself in front of his flatmate. Sherlock raised his hands and cupped John‘s face. He gently rubbed his right thumb over the doctor‘s face.

John tried asking his friend what in God’s name he was doing, but the words in his mind failed to be spoken.

Sherlock leaned in, but stopped just before the pairs lips touched and whispered “Don‘t ever become an impressionist“. He then smiled and rested his cupid-bow lips against John‘s.