Skinny Love: A Johnlock Fanfiction

Chapter Thirteen

"Babe, don't think that way, these are the demons that bite at your soul. Please, come back to me, you're losing your mind and you're out of control." ~'Emotional Anorexic' by Svavar Knutur

John

"Sherlock! Time for dinner!" John called, feeling a tad impatient. It must have been the fifth time he shouted for him.

Today was Sherlock's free day, in which they did not go out or take on a certain challenge. However, John was a little surprised to have gone the whole day without seeing his flatmate. Sherlock had been cooped up in his room all day long. Not that John minded or anything. He was able to go out and see a certain somebody. A man has got to have his freedom, hasn't he?

He turned back to the bubbling soup, humming a tune mindlessly. He was interrupted by the padding of stocking feet behind him, and turned to see Sherlock. He was still in his robe, and his hair was in complete disarray.

"Why do you look like a sleep-deprived teenager?" John asked.

"Why do you look like a doting housewife?" Sherlock shot back.

John pursed his lips. "I'm far from doting. Now sit down before the soup gets cold."

Sherlock scowled and sat down at the table. John turned back to the pot and began to carefully ladle the steaming soup into a bowl.

"John?" A hesitant voice came from behind him, completely different from the one that had snapped at him moments ago. John turned around in surprise.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I feel terrible."

"What?" John put down the bowl and stared at his flatmate.

"My stomach feels awful."

"That's because you're hungry." John rolled his eyes.

"No, it's not like that." Sherlock looked away. "I have concluded that it feels the worst when we are doing our 'activities'. I think the treatment is hindering my progress."

"Sherlock, don't be ridiculous! That's just nerves getting to you."

"No, John," Sherlock met his eyes evenly. "You have to talk to Dan. This isn't working."

John felt a flicker of anger in his chest. "You don't know what you're talking about. You're eating more and you've been getting healthier."

"John, I have tested my theory all day," Sherlock gritted his teeth. "For the first time today, my stomach hurts and I am shaky and feel weak."

"So?" John blurted.

"I've only felt this way when I'm with you!" Sherlock yelled.

John felt it like a punch in the gut. "But you-"

"Stop telling me how I'm supposed to be, John." Sherlock seethed. "You don't know anything about how I feel. You may be appointed as my caretaker but you are not, in any way, my doctor."

"I'm just trying to help you-"

"But you're not!" Sherlock shouted. "I don't need you, John Watson!" And with that he pushed away from the table, got up, and bolted from the kitchen. The slam of the door shook the flat.

All was silent except for a ringing in John's ear. He gripped the countertop and tried to come up with a coherent thought, but his mind seemed to shut down. Sherlock did not need him anymore. Sherlock did not want him.

It could have been seconds, or minutes, before John was able to do anything. He robotically went upstairs and changed his clothes. After grabbing his jacket and phone, he scribbled a note on the back of a napkin. He placed it next to the half-empty bowl of soup.

'I'm at a party. I'll be gone until you're ready. Call me, I have my phone. Eat the soup.'

Sherlock

He heard the door click shut and felt his heart fall through the floor.

He read the note. He didn't follow its instructions.

But he made sure to turn off the stove and lock the door behind him.

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A/N: Sheesh. Teenagers, amirite? (*effectively ruins mood*)

Thanks as always for the comments! Oh ya, and the votes! Can you believe this thing has 1K+ starry things? I can't!

Catch you on the flipside, wherever that is (either way it will be longer than this lame-o chapter) ~Meg