I believe in you - Sherlock Fanfiction.

Chapter two - Johns strip of hair.

An hour and a half later John woke up from his slumber and trailed into the living room. There wasn't much going one while he was asleep. I had opened up my laptop after giving up on trying to talk to Sherlock as he zoned out to his 'Mind Palace' and while he was being peacefully quiet I logged onto Tumblr.

John walked into the living room, rubbing the sleep from out of his eyes. When he noticed Sherlock he simply stared at him. Sherlock was out of his 'Mind Palace' now and they just both stared at each other awkwardly. John didn't say anything, and slowly turned his face to me and sat on the sofa space next to me.

"I thought I was dreaming" He mumbled, breaking the silence, "I thought I told you to get him out"

"I did" I said with a slight frown, "He wouldn't leave. He said he had no where to go"

"Did I forget to mention he's a good actor?"

"It was the truth, John" Sherlock finally spoke with confidence. Johns head snapped towards him.

"I wasn't speaking to you"

"Don't be so childish-"

"Sherlock, I thought you were dead!" John said shakily, like he was going to start sobbing, "You were supposed to be dead. How are you even here right now?!"

"There are things I must explain to you-"

"This can't be real. Holland can you see him too? Tell me I'm not seeing things"

"You're not seeing thin-" I began to speak but Sherlock cut me off.

"Please just let me expla-"

"Shut up, Sherlock!"

"Both of you shut up!" I nearly yelled, silencing them both, "Look, I'm sure Sherlock has a lot to say since he's been thinking about what to say for the past two hours. And I'm sure John has a lot of questions and is angry, am I right?"

"Absolutely" John muttered. I looked to Sherlock and saw him nod.

"Right, now. Both of you speak calmly to each other and sort things out like gentlemen"

John and Sherlock both looked at each other and the room fell silence once again. I could feel the tension building up so I put my laptop on the side table and went towards the kitchen and made everyone a cup of tea even if they didn't want one. It would give me something to do instead of awkwardly staring at the both of them stare at each other.

I made three cups of tea's and trailed back into the living room- surprisingly holding all three cups without spilling them. I sat mine down on the side table, being careful not to spill it on my laptop and placed Johns and Sherlock's on the coffee table. John looked at the cup of tea and smiled a thank you at me but Sherlock just continued to stare at John.

"Is it appropriate to bring up that thing of yours now?" Sherlock finally speaks up.

John frowns. "What thing?"

"That thing. That strip of hair under your nose."

"Oh," John blinks, raising a hand to touch the bristles of his moustache. "My moustache, you mean?"

"Is that what that is?" I think John would've been offended if he didn't actually know Sherlock, but he does. And from what I know he asks the most weirdest questions and even if Sherlock is smart, he doesn't know what the most simplest of things are.

"It's a moustache, Sherlock," he repeats, a hint of past exasperation creeping into his voice.

Sherlock waves his hand a little. "Why do you have that?"

John blinks again. "I, uh, I don't-"

"Is it to signify your successful completion of what the mainstream media vastly describes as the five stages of grief?" Sherlock cuts him off.

John slams his cup down on the table which makes me jump a little. "Are you implying that my moustache is a symbol of celebration of how I moved on from you?"

Sherlock gives the tiniest of shrugs but it doesn't quite take away the nervous tension building at the corners of his eyes. "More likely, from my fall."

"Not everything," he begins in a near-scream and trails off, takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair. "Not everything is about you, Sherlock."

Sherlock opens his mouth but John is faster. "I don't have to talk to you about this." And a second later, more forceful around the bitter taste of truth in his mouth: "I don't have to talk to you about any of this."

"No, you don't" Sherlock agrees, "But do you think we can talk about living arrangements?"

"...Living arrangements?"

"There are three rooms in this flat and I'm assuming you didn't give my room to Holland so you gave her the spare room. Maybe I could move back into my old room?" Sherlock suggest but it's almost as if he isn't asking, he's commanding.

"This is my home" John says sternly, "Not yours. Not anymore"

"John" I whisper slightly to him, "I genuinely think he has nowhere to stay"

"I cant have him here, Hol" John looks at me and frowns, "This is... this is too much to handle at the moment"

I frown at him and turn to Sherlock, "Would you sleep on the couch?"

"But why would I sleep on the couch when there's a room upstairs?" He asks.

"Because this is Johns home and I've been living in it for two years and I say you sleep on the couch" Sherlock's expression was priceless, "Its the couch or out."

"Fine" Sherlock grits his teeth together, "I'll sleep on the... couch."

"Just until you find a job" John buts in, "Then you can find a new flat with your money"

Sherlock says nothing and continues to stare at the wall. I sigh and look at the clock.

"John, you have work in half an hour."

"Shit." John curses to himself and quickly rushes of into his room. I chuckle to myself and pick up my laptop again before scrolling through Tumblr once more. From the corner of my eye I see Sherlock pick his cup of tea up and take a sip, but he also looks.... Sad, and disappointed. Sherlock better have a good reason to tell John why he left for three years, otherwise I fear he could lose John forever.