The Doctor And The Detective (Johnlock)

Thirteen

John scrubbed at his skin roughly, trying not to think about what just happened. Had he really just slept with his flatmate? His face burned and he bit down on nothing, ignoring the sting of the loofah. For a moment he wished that Sherlock hadn't come back, but he immediately killed that thought. He was happy that Sherlock was back, just not happy with the fact he'd had sex with him.

John's mind thought back to the feel of naked skin rubbing against his own, cute black curls brushing against his face and sweat mingling and soaking them both. He moaned softly as he recalled the way Sherlock had made him feel, and closed his eyes. The water poured over his skin, and John remembered that he was in the shower, and had been for quite some time now.

John opened his eyes and realised where he had been scrubbing with the loofah was now a mangle of broken skin, blood washing down his leg with the water. He cursed under his breath and winced, the pain starting to set it. Turning off the water, John limped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself, patting over the bloodied skin gingerly. He rummaged around for the band-aid box.

One wasn't enough, and John soon found he had used about fifty of the sticking plasters. He sighed and shrugged on his clothes, trying to take as long as he could. He dreaded having to go out, having to face Sherlock. His face burned. Why had he done that? Why had he been so drunk on relief that Sherlock was back that he had allowed himself to do that? What on earth had possessed him? Questions without answers swirled around his mind, and he groaned.

Sherlock wasn't anywhere in sight when John came out, and the wailing sounds of his violin could be heard from his room. Well, that was a couple more hours he wouldn't have to speak to the detective, at least. John flopped onto the couch, running his hands through his hair. He switched the TV on, muting it, but couldn't pay attention to the screen. The melancholy tune issuing from Sherlock's violin captured him somehow. It told him a story.

It told him of the emotions that raged just beyond expressive eyes, yearning to be set free but unable to. It told him of stone-cold exteriors that were walls to keep the honey sea inside. John swallowed, trying not to cry. This was meant to be happy. It was meant to be a happy day, because Sherlock was home. How had it become so dark, so quickly? Why had this cloud swallowed up the sun?

The violin stopped, and John kept his face cold as he listened to the door of Sherlock's room open. Light footsteps padded in, and the detective alighted on the end of the couch, as far as humanly possible from John. John kept his eyes glued to the TV screen, suddenly becoming fascinated in a documentary about the world of paranormal. A CGI ghost flitted across the screen. A bunch of teenagers screamed (making it very obvious it was fake, even without the sound), and John closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

"John?" Sherlock asked. John didn't reply. There was a beat of silence. "John, can we still be friends?"

"Look, Sherlock, I don't really want to talk to you right now," John snapped, fumbling for the remote and turning the volume of the TV to full. The narrator had a deep, soothing voice. "Many people believe in ghosts or spirits, believe in the idea that the dead may be able to rise again..." John stopped listening. It was bullshit. He didn't believe in ghosts, never had.

"John?" Sherlock asked again, his voice small. John opened his eyes.

"Oh god fucking dammit, leave me alone for one minute!" He yelled, standing and balling his fists. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly through 'o' shaped lips, un-clenching his hands. "Just... just stop talking." John led himself into the kitchen to calm down. There was a scream from the TV, and a bunch of shrill bleeps (presumably blocking out swearing). John slumped into a chair and laid his head on the table. What had he done?

(Yay, I finally updated! I'm so sorry I didn't sooner, I have had MASSIVE writer's block. Next chapter is going to be a good one, with tension running high between John and Sherlock!)