Come back to me (Sherlock Holmess/John Watson MD)

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he saw John walking towards the door, muttering something only for him to know. What was the matter with him? He was being nervous and different then he had been before. Perhaps he regretted their night together but couldn't bring the words up? That had to be it, Sherlock figured and he huffed at his own thoughts.

"I don't think walking outside that door is the most luminous idea you've ever had, John." Sherlock said as he hopped off his armchair, glancing at the window for a second before walking over to John. Of course Sherlock went straight into his personal space, penetrating John's eyes with his own.

"What's wrong?" His deep voice asked.

"I know," snapped John annoyed, he had noticed and it made him feel like a rat in a cage. He needed fresh air, he needed something, anything that would stop him wanting Sherlock so much.

He had the time to blink and Sherlock walked straight in his personal space, his features intense, making it impossible for John to think.
He shook his head.
"It's just so bloody awkward between us now," he protested, even though it was just the tip of the iceberg.

"And you are being such a douchebag about it, cold and distant as if nothing happened, Jesus, one would think you ought to feel a bit guilty for shagging your best friend like that..." He added, trying hard not to stare at Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock huffed as he heard John's words. He kept staring him in the eyes the whole time. "What?" he exclaimed, clearly offended by his friend's words. "Why should I feel guilty? I didn't do anything wrong. You were the one saying 'sex is sex afterall.' How was I supposed to know you felt different about it? You could have you said so you know." He defended himself.

Sherlock had thought John just assumed they had casual sex, something caused by emotions but nothing more. Clearly he had deduced the wrong thing about his friend.

John's eyes flared with annoyance when Sherlock talked, his hands balled into fists, and he felt a long shiver run up his spine when he finally met the other man's gaze.

"You were dead for three years, you come back and we end up having sex, only you can think that it involves the same emotional consequences of having sex with a stranger you met in a pub," he snarled, and stepped back, unable to take their proximity any long, he needed space.

"Actually I have never been dead." Sherlock just mentioned. "Besides, you were the one calling 'sex just sex after all." Sherlock huffed. Why was John being such a pain about this? It's not like he had done anything wrong, had he? They both wanted this, and Sherlock wasn't even regretting it, in fact, he loved it.

He turned his back and walked over to the sofa, letting himself fall on to it with a sigh. "What did you expect from me?" He asked John while his eyes stared at the ceiling.

"I meant sex is sex whether it's with a girl or with a boy," he snapped, his nerves tensing even further as he watched Sherlock walk towards the sofa. "So if you like sex, it doesn't really matter the gender of who you do it with," he explained.

What did you expect of me?

The world seemed to narrow on John in that second.

Those words ringing noisily in his head, and John knew he was going to crumble if he didn't flee.

"Nothing. You made it clear already that I was not supposed to expect anything," he muttered, he just wanted to disappear.
"Never mind. Just forget about it," he snapped finally, quickly moving towards his room, he had had enough of this.

"John?" Sherlock said questionably as he heard the stairs creak. He went sitting up a bit more, watching John storm up to his bedroom. "John?" He shouted once more but the other had already slammed his bedroom door.

Sherlock sat up blinking a few times. He did not understand what he had done wrong? For a moment he went back, over thinking everything. The sex, the awkward moment Sherlock had thought they silently agreed on. John's words from moments ago. Perhaps he should have entertained the possibility of John having actual feelings for him. But then again his friend never mentioned anything and kept acting cool himself. Sherlock sighed. Should he went up and apologise? But what would he apologise for? He didn't feel sorry for having sex with John at all. Perhaps he should apologise for being rather bitter about it? Or perhaps he should leave John alone until he had calmed down. John's a like a boomerang, he will return (( to me.)) eventually

It wasn't easy at all.
To act as if nothing had happened.
To act as if his heart wasn't utterly broken.
In pieces.

He was glad Sherlock was back, he was happy to know they would soon go back to their cases and he wouldn't need to spend hours at the clinic every day, but the truth was that he was more than miserable.
The problem was that he loved Sherlock.
Sherlock was all he thought about, it was the first thought in the morning and the last before falling asleep, the memories of their night together were haunting him and there was no relief.

John had been dumped and rejected before in his life, but it had never felt like this.
For a second there, he had really thought him and Sherlock were meant to be together.
To wrap his head around the fact that they weren't, that was what hurt the most.

"Are you okay, John?" Hanna asked him kindly, placing an hand on his shoulder and handing him a cup of steaming tea.

He shook out of his thoughts, looking up.

"Oh, hi," he smiled lopsidedly, taking the cup. "You are always too nice, I am fine," he said, lying.

"You look like your pet died or something, John, so no, I don't believe you," she said, sitting on his desk as she looked at him, her leg tapping against his knee casually. "The miserable look doesn't suit you..."

The next day Sherlock just carried on the way he had been before. He hadn't had the slightest idea of how bad he'd hurt John. Sherlock thought John was just taken by the stress of everything that had been going on.

As he woke up the next morning, he found himself alone in their flat. John must have been at work, Sherlock figured. He felt boredom creeping up and settle down in his mind. When he had been undercover, every day had been a challenge and being bored never really occurred. But now he was back and he didn't had anything to do. They had no cases and with the press still surrounding their building, the chanced of someone just popping up were considerably small.

He sighed, after making himself a cup of tea and had a search for John's gun. Though, it was no where to be found. Sherlock slumbered over to door to grab his coat and scarf. He moved down the stairs and with a roll of his eyes and a deep sigh he opened up the door. It had been the first time he left the apartment ever since he had been back. Sherlock pulled up his collar as high as possible to cover his face from the many photographers. "How did you survive?" "What happened that day on the roof?" "Mr. Holmes, where have you been all this time." One question after another came shooting towards him. But Sherlock did not answer any of them.

Once he got inside of the taxi he sighed with relief, remembering himself why he didn't left his flat for oh so long. About 20 minutes later the cab slowed down. Sherlock threw some money towards the cabbie and slid out of it. In front of him the surgery John was working at. Sherlock walked in, waved at Sarah who didn't even asked questions and just let him pass.

Without knocking Sherlock swung open the door to John's cabinet. "John, I was so bo-" His words stopped as he saw the beautiful young lady sit in front of John, her feet touching John's legs. Sherlock felt a strange kind of heath bubbling up in his chest. Jealousy? Could that be? However, he was not planning on making it visible in his expression. He knew how to scare people away by making them feel uncomfortable and that was exactly was he was planning to do now.

John tensed up suddenly when he heard the door swing open, he knew it couldn't be a patient because Sarah would have buzzed him for that.
His heart clenched in his chest and butterflies bursts in his stomach as he recognized Sherlock, the stern look that crossed his face for a second making him look even more handsome.

"Sherlock," he said in ways of greeting, schooling his features as he sat back on his chair, debating whether to ask what the hell he was doing here.

Hanna was standing up quickly, pushing her skirt down nervously. "Oh, you must be John's flatmate, he speaks very highly of you," she said amiably, moving closer to him and extending her hand to shake his.

"John." He replied dryly, his eyes fixed on the girl on front of him.

Sherlock's brow raised as the girl offered her hand. However he did not take it and just stared at her for a good few seconds.

Eyes dilated, skirt lifted up while legs slowly parted, jumped up when unexpected visitor entered, now desperately trying to keep me from that subject, nervous...

"And you clearly must be in the wrong office. Pelvic examinations are on the second floor, second door to the right." He said, smiling quickly before moving his eyes back to John.

John's eyes widened to the size of saucers when he heard Sherlock's words, he knew his friend was an ass with pretty much everyone, but this was a bit out of line even for him.
It sounded a lot like bitch fighting.
"Sherlock!" he exclaimed in protest, making it clear that he did not like what he had just said.

Hanna's face was completely red in shame, and she stammered when she replied. "I k-know, I w-work here, I was just... checking on John," she said, her eyes hiding away.

John stood up, moving closer, placing an hand on her shoulder in a reassuring way. "Don't mind him, he's always like that," he muttered with a soft smile, trying to meet her eyes.

Sherlock glared at John as he heard his name being called. "What? Not good?" He exclaimed, knowing damn well he had overdone it this time. On purpose. Though, the result was not what he hoped. Why was this woman still here. Why was John putting her arms around her? The heat in his chest only increased.

Sherlock's eyes checked her all the way down and back up.

Small white rind formed while the rest of her fingers are tanned. Sun had been out lately -> Wedding ring removed.

"John, you don't stand a change." he said. "Correct me if I'm wrong, which I ain't, but you're already married. Thanks for checking on him, Now if you please." His hand gestured towards the door of John's office. Sherlock wasn't going to do this subtle at all.

"No, not good Sherlock!" he protested, his hand falling off Hanna's shoulder when he realized Sherlock was moving his eyes on her body, clearly in search of secrets.
He knew the worst was yet to come.

He didn't expect that though, of all people, he had never thought Hanna to be married.
"You are married?" he asked, unable to disguise his surprise.

She was blushing furiously and this time she glared at Sherlock, "This is none of your business!" she protested before turning towards John. "I am sorry, John, we will talk when your jerk of a friend is not here, if you don't mind..."

John nodded, still a bit shocked about the turns of events. "Sorry about that," he mumbled as she fled the room.

The door slammed closed and he turned to Sherlock feral.
"Why did you have to be like that? She didn't do anything wrong!" he protested, defensive.

Sherlock's eyes followed her, as if they were pushing her, forcing her to walk outside of that door. When he heard it slam one side of his mouth curled up in a secretly amused smile. Though as soon as he heard the furious tone of John's voice his face turned serious again.

"Be like what?" Sherlock shrugged. "I only told the truth. Beside, I spared you from a lot of problems. Jealous and suspicious husbands are a pain." He said dryly.

John felt a bout of anger flare in his chest at Sherlock's words. He had no idea where his words came from. "Her husband wouldn't have to know, not everyone is as observant as you, Sherlock," he snarled, rather out of character. He just wanted Sherlock to mind his own business.

"I sincerely doubt her husband cares much for her, she is always alone, which is why she is always following me around and helping out, she cares for me, Sherlock," he insisted, even though he had no idea why he was saying those things, he didn't care about Hanna, he didn't care about fucking her either.

"Oh so now you agree on cheating?" Sherlock's brow rose up. John was always the one teaching him morals and telling him wrong from right, though at this point it seemed the other way around.

"I care for you!" He snapped at John. As if he had a competition running with the girl he had just send outside. By now Sherlock was only standing a small step away from John. As ever he drilled his eyes into the John's pair.

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock'a accusation. "Of course I don't agree on cheating, but it's none of my business, now, is it?" he snapped, his eyes moving on Sherlock as he moved closer, his heart skipping a beat, why did it have to happen all the time? Why was he longing for Sherlock even now that they were fighting?

He shook his head at the other's words. "I know you care for me, but at least she doesn't scare away my other friends by embarrassing them, you know?" he insisted.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, thinking about John's comment for just a second.

"No, because she's incapable of doing so." He dryly said. He assumed that if anyone was able to do what he could, they would use it in these kind of situations as well.

"Besides, it's hardly my fault that the simple truth embarrassed her." He shrugged a little.

Sherlock's eyes lingered on John's face. He could tell he was annoyed by the extra wrinkle he always got on his forehead. "But I didn't came here to talk about her. Nor did I came because I want to fight with you again." He admitted.

"No, Sherlock, it's not because she is incapable of doing so, it's because she is nice, and she doesn't want to hurt me, just like a proper friend," he hissed, even though he knew that the subject had shifted quite a bit and he wasn't really talking about Hanna any more.

John scoffed at the rest of the words. "No fighting would have happened if you stopped yourself from being an ass for once," he snapped and then sighed. "Alright, then why did you come here, Sherlock? I am working..."

"I don't want to hurt you either!" Sherlock snapped. He couldn't believe John was accusing him of such things.

"I was only telling the truth." He protested. "And I came here because." He stopped for a second. Why did he came? Because he was bored, needed entertainment. Or just because he needed to see John's face. "I was bored." He said, his voice now clearly calmer.

"Well, too late for that, isn't it," he muttered, more to himself than anything else, he took in a deep breath to calm down, even though the rest of Sherlock's words made him cringe.

"You were bored? Wow, that's an important reason to come to my workplace... I hope you are less bored now, Sherlock," he commented sarcastic.

"Well if you'd rather have me blowing up the wall or kitchen." He replied. Something was wrong with John and Sherlock couldn't exactly lay his finger on. Was John still angry about the little row they had that other day? However Sherlock did not saw the problem in it. But he did saw a problem in the relationship between them both. It felt weird, awkward and tense all of the time.

"I don't give a damn about what you do with the wall, but I am working, for God's sake, what do you suppose I do to entertain you really?" he asked, and he was dead serious.

"I don't think I can turn off your boredom, can I?" And he couldn't help wondering if Sherlock was really here for that. There weren't many other options though, Sherlock clearly wasn't checking on him, he seemed to be oblivious to the hurt he had caused him, and maybe it was better that way, it was easier to keep it inside if Sherlock didn't pick on it.

"Oh you say that now until I molest it, then you freak out over it." Sherlock's voice stayed calm. He didn't like arguing with John like this, however John did look rather cute all worked up over something. Sherlock's mind was wandering off at that very thought.

Sherlock stepped closer up to John. "Hmmm. I thought you might as well had a perfect cure for my boredom." Sherlock implied in a deep low voice. His eyes penetrated John's and kept them locked.