Skinny Love: A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter Six

A/N: *rises from the grave in a dramatic display of fangirl rebirth* You called?

I owe each and every one of my lovely current readers a huge apology. A two month hiatus was not okay, and I have no excuse (besides my formal education and thus my terrifying future). I understand if you want to murder me (my buddies @macncheese91 and @abigailscastle have already tried *shudders*). So, to make it up to you, here is an extra long chapter, and another one will be posted ASAP!

Vote if you believe I am worth your forgiveness. Vote if you think I'm not. Oh ya, and leave some sweet comments telling me whatcha think! Thanks for sticking with me! I love you guys! :D ~Meg

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"For you know it's a simple game you play, filling up your head with rain. And you know you've been hiding from your pain. In the way, in the way you say your name." ~'Song for You' by Alexi Murdoch

John

When a character in a film utters the cliché phrase, "At least things can't get any worse," it always begins to rain.

When John thought these accursed words to himself, the London streets were already filled with puddles. The bad sign was the mobile buzzing in his pocket.

"Sorry, Sherlock. I got to take this," John said to the silent man sitting beside him.

Sherlock gave him a half-hearted grunt and continued to stare out the cab window. He had been strangely quiet ever since he was woken up an hour ago. John assumed it had to do with first-day nerves, or perhaps the nightmare he obviously had last night. John couldn't figure out what that was all about, but he decided not to pry. He knew how much bad dreams could shake a person.

John pulled out his phone and was surprised to see a text from his boss. 'Please report to the hospital immediately. I apologize for the late notice, but an important meeting is being held that you must attend. Thank you.'

He reread the text three times, stunned by how completely inconvenient this was. He's never been texted by his boss. Now, of all days, he had to go in for work. If he didn't go to the meeting, he risked losing his job. If he lost his job, nobody could pay the rent or buy groceries. He had no choice but to go.

'Shit, how am I going to tell Sherlock?' John thought nervously, glancing over at the detective.

"Who was that?" Sherlock asked suddenly, causing John to jump.

"Oh, um," John hesitated. "It was a text from my boss."

"About?"

"Work."

"I assumed that much," Sherlock snapped, turning to John with icy eyes. "It must be more than a friendly work text, judging by how pale you are. Were you fired?"

"What? No!" John said quickly, "In fact, quite the opposite. I have to go to a meeting."

"Oh."

"Now."

"This moment?" Sherlock's face clouded with confusion.

"Yes," John cringed. "I have to go to a meeting right now or else I could lose my job."

Sherlock stared at him blankly, his mind seeming to slowly process this information. "But you promised to come to the clinic with me today."

"I know," John sighed. "But I can't go. I'm really sorry, I really wanted to-"

"You lied to me."

"No, I promise-"

"Stop making promises you can't keep," Sherlock growled angrily, but his eyes were filled with hurt. He leaned forward and yelled to the cabbie, "STOP!"