Not Again (Johnlock AU)

Dinner

       *So hey everyone! How are you all enjoying the fic? I hope you guys like it. Please comment on what ya'll think! Do you guys like Mary in this fic? What did ya'll think about the last chapter? Should I really continue this? I mean I've gone this far right? Also please leave ideas for a Destiel fic I want to write!! Enjoy this chapter! :)*

Mary walked up to the door, carrying two bags and knocked. "John? Are you still here?" She asked knocking again.

Inside, John was fumbling around the flat trying to figure out how Sherlock's scarf was in John's flat. It had been buried with him

after all. When he heard the knocking, he quickly hid the scarf in a drawer in his room.

       He ran up to the door, still drenched in cold

water and slowly opened the door. Mary looked at him and smiled widely. "John! I thought you weren't home, even when I told you to stay! I even brought you something to eat and-- oh...er, I don't know if you've noticed but um...your clothes are sorta drenched..." She giggled.

John chuckled at looked down at his current attire, "Ah, yes...I've noticed. I might have sort of just woken up in an extremely

cold shower with all my clothes on and a huge headache." He said. Mary smiled and walked in and set the bags on a small coffee table, John closed the door behind her followed along. She walked around the house but stopped by his room, where she saw the bloody,

shattered mirror, the empty alcohol bottle, and glass on the floor. She gasped and ran inside, John following behind. She knelt

down onto the floor and began to pick up the glass on the floor. "Uh, Mary...you don't have to-- I can just clean this all up later..." John sighed walking up behind her, but she just shook her head.

"John, I'm here to help. Besides...you sounded heartbroken over the phone. Are you alright?" She asked standing up with a handful of shattered glass.

John shook his head and looked down at his feet. "Just some problems...with Sherlock being gone. And yes I know it's been five years, but I don't care!" He screamed that last bit and looked up at her angrily.

       Mary stepped back ever so slight, stayed quiet for a few moments, and walked out of the room still carrying the handful of glass.

John sighed and followed her. "Mary please. Look I'm sorry okay? I just really miss him and no one has been able to change that. Please don't go...I um-- you brought me dinner, remember? Let's just discuss this over dinner!" John stated.

Mary walked in front of a trash bin and dropped the glass inside. Then she began to laugh. "Leaving? John, I'm not going to leave just because you yelled at me! I'm just throwing away the glass okay? Now yo go an get changed into some dry clothes and I'll fix you some dinner, eh?" She said smiling and began to look inside the bags for her ingredients. Jon smiled and nodded before running into his room and closing the door behind him. He pulled open his drawer, looking for some extra clothes, but pulled out Sherlock's scarf instead. He pressed it against his face and inhaled the familiar smell.

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//Sherlock's POV

       Sherlock had finally arrived at his little hideaway; a rundown, abandoned house, except for the many drug users and drunks that were always there to keep him company. But obviously Sherlock would rather have them gone. He sighed and greeted some of the people inside with a small nod and walked into his own little corner, away from everyone. He reached up to his neck to remove his scarf, since it wasn't as cold in there as it was outside, but there wasn't anything there. No scarf. Where was it? Sherlock ran over his entire neck and shoulders in search of it but it wasn't on him. He retraced his steps until he was outside the old house, but there was no scarf on the ground or anywhere.

It was gone. Sherlock placed his fingertips on his temples and searched his mind palace. Then it hit him. John. He must've dropped it when he loosened while caring for John. No. It slipped off. No!

"Damn it..." Sherlock yelled under his breath and began to run towards John's flat. He had left his damn scarf at John's flat.