Falling (JohnLock)

chpr. 6

Sherlock woke up the next morning, feeling cheery and full of energy. He loved John, and John loved him back. He pulled his dressing gown on and practically bounded to the kitchen before stopping dead when he realised that John didn’t know that he loved him. How should he tell him? What if he didn’t actually love him? He was always telling Sherlock that he wasn’t gay. What if, that night, he was just really drunk and he really didn’t love him. If Sherlock told him and John didn’t actually love him, he’d have to move out, and he didn’t want to do that. Okay, he’d have to be sure, observe. He had been walking absentmindedly and didn’t even notice when he ran into John, he just kept walking.

“Sherlock”, John said in annoyance and snapped him out of his trance.

“Oh s-sorry John. I didn’t see you there”, Sherlock stuttered, blushing. John raised an eyebrow, confused at Sherlock’s weird behaviour.

“Are you okay?”

“Er… fine! I mean, I was fine before… so uh nothing new”

“Are you sure, Sherlock?”, John asked, reaching out to touch his friend and Sherlock jumped back at the touch.

“Yeah… I’m fine… I just… um… with yesterday… I err….”

John realised where this was going and he quickly made up an excuse and retreated to his room. He didn’t want Sherlock to kick him out, not yet. The was a soft knock on his bedroom door.

“John…”

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

“No”

Sherlock opened the door anyway and walked inside, seeing tears fall down John’s face. His heart broke for him.

“John!”

John wiped his tears and turned away from Sherlock.

“John, please”

“Go away. I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it. Not now, not ever. Get out”

Sherlock felt his heart break into a million pieces and he muttered an apology before walking out, shutting the door behind him.

He stormed to his room and slammed the door, pulling the lamp down off his chest of drawers and smashing it onto the floor. He pulled a picture down and threw it on the floor in disgust, smashing the frame. He pushed the chest of drawers onto the floor and tore his un-slept in blankets off his bed and threw them across the room. He flipped a small table over and kicked at the legs, smashing it to pieces. He got his gun out from under his bed, where he was hiding it from John, and shot the table on the floor. He then threw the gun out of the closed window, smashing the glass. He then threw the remains of the table and picture out after it before collapsing on the bed. He curled up and fisted his hair, trying to stop tears running down his face. His chest began to hurt because of the fact he forgot to keep breathing. Is this what it’s like? Falling in love? It sucks. Why doesn’t John love him? He gulped in air and his heart began to ache before finally falling asleep out of exhaustion