John sighed and sat back down in the small space Sherlock left empty at his feet. "I am not leaving, Sherlock. Besides, I want to be here."
"Why?" Sherlock repeated and closed his eyes tightly, causing the tears that were on his lashes to fall. He didn't want to hear that John thought it was his duty as either a flatmate or doctor. That would only make everything he was feeling worse.
It was at times like this that John forgot that Sherlock didn't understand things like friendship. He stood up and moved to sit on the coffee table facing Sherlock. "Because you're my friend, Sherlock, and are clearly upset about something. The fact that you're actually showing it…well, I could never leave you alone, even if you wanted to be."
Sherlock quickly turned his head so he was looking at John, unsure of what he heard. "What?"
John's heart broke when he saw the tears falling from Sherlock's red-rimmed eyes; something he never thought he'd see. He handed Sherlock a few more tissues. "What is wrong, Sherlock? Will you please tell me what happened?" he asked quietly.
Sherlock didn't seem to hear John's question. He was still stuck on John saying he was his friend. "You're…you're my friend?" He then uncurled from the sofa and sat back the way he was prior with his feet up on the sofa and his arms crossed on top of his knees.
"Of course. What did you think I was?"
Sherlock shrugged. "Just a colleague."
"Where would you ever…never mind." He ran a hand over his face. "Of course I'm your friend, Sherlock."
"But you said I was pathetic."
John looked down, ashamed. "I admit that I did think that, yes. But I thought you were just having a go at me." He looked back up and met Sherlock's red-rimmed eyes. "If I had known…I… I'm sorry, Sherlock. I shouldn't have said that." John leaned forward, knees almost touching Sherlock's drawn-up legs. "Will you tell me what happened? Does this have anything to do with the conversation you had with Mycroft earlier today?"
"No," Sherlock answered a little too quickly and buried his head back into his knees. How could John even know he'd had a conversation with Mycroft?
Even though John wasn't of Sherlock's caliber with deductions, he'd been around him enough to begin to know when someone was lying. Sherlock's quick answer was definitely not true. His current state did have something to do with the conversation. Based on the few conversations he'd been witness to, he could only imagine what was said.
Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, his tears finally beginning to slow. This whole thing was embarrassing, another emotion he wasn't used to having. Not only was he crying in front of John and acting like a child, now more than likely John knew what caused all of it. And like John said earlier, it was pathetic; a grown man crying because he thought he didn't have a friend when he really wanted one. "What did Mycroft tell you exactly?" Sherlock croaked out, face still hidden.
"He didn't tell me anything, Sherlock. Now will you please tell me what has you so upset?"
"How did you know we talked then?"
"You were fine earlier today at the bakery, so something obviously happened to you since then. I didn't know what it was and I needed to know. I texted Mycroft."
Sherlock looked up and grabbed another tissue. "Does he know then? About this?" he asked, pointing to himself.
John nodded. "I'm sorry Sherlock. I know this is the last thing you'd want your brother to know about. Like I said, I needed to know if anything happened to you so I would know how to proceed."
"He's never going to let me hear the end of it." Sherlock buried his head in his knees again.
Re: Just One Word - Part 9
"Why?" Sherlock repeated and closed his eyes tightly, causing the tears that were on his lashes to fall. He didn't want to hear that John thought it was his duty as either a flatmate or doctor. That would only make everything he was feeling worse.
It was at times like this that John forgot that Sherlock didn't understand things like friendship. He stood up and moved to sit on the coffee table facing Sherlock. "Because you're my friend, Sherlock, and are clearly upset about something. The fact that you're actually showing it…well, I could never leave you alone, even if you wanted to be."
Sherlock quickly turned his head so he was looking at John, unsure of what he heard. "What?"
John's heart broke when he saw the tears falling from Sherlock's red-rimmed eyes; something he never thought he'd see. He handed Sherlock a few more tissues. "What is wrong, Sherlock? Will you please tell me what happened?" he asked quietly.
Sherlock didn't seem to hear John's question. He was still stuck on John saying he was his friend. "You're…you're my friend?" He then uncurled from the sofa and sat back the way he was prior with his feet up on the sofa and his arms crossed on top of his knees.
"Of course. What did you think I was?"
Sherlock shrugged. "Just a colleague."
"Where would you ever…never mind." He ran a hand over his face. "Of course I'm your friend, Sherlock."
"But you said I was pathetic."
John looked down, ashamed. "I admit that I did think that, yes. But I thought you were just having a go at me." He looked back up and met Sherlock's red-rimmed eyes. "If I had known…I… I'm sorry, Sherlock. I shouldn't have said that." John leaned forward, knees almost touching Sherlock's drawn-up legs. "Will you tell me what happened? Does this have anything to do with the conversation you had with Mycroft earlier today?"
"No," Sherlock answered a little too quickly and buried his head back into his knees. How could John even know he'd had a conversation with Mycroft?
Even though John wasn't of Sherlock's caliber with deductions, he'd been around him enough to begin to know when someone was lying. Sherlock's quick answer was definitely not true. His current state did have something to do with the conversation. Based on the few conversations he'd been witness to, he could only imagine what was said.
Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, his tears finally beginning to slow. This whole thing was embarrassing, another emotion he wasn't used to having. Not only was he crying in front of John and acting like a child, now more than likely John knew what caused all of it. And like John said earlier, it was pathetic; a grown man crying because he thought he didn't have a friend when he really wanted one. "What did Mycroft tell you exactly?" Sherlock croaked out, face still hidden.
"He didn't tell me anything, Sherlock. Now will you please tell me what has you so upset?"
"How did you know we talked then?"
"You were fine earlier today at the bakery, so something obviously happened to you since then. I didn't know what it was and I needed to know. I texted Mycroft."
Sherlock looked up and grabbed another tissue. "Does he know then? About this?" he asked, pointing to himself.
John nodded. "I'm sorry Sherlock. I know this is the last thing you'd want your brother to know about. Like I said, I needed to know if anything happened to you so I would know how to proceed."
"He's never going to let me hear the end of it." Sherlock buried his head in his knees again.