Loving The Sociopath (Johnlock)

No Strings Attached

"28 years old, 6'1, important job indicating by his choice of clothing; science professor-"

"How do you even know that?"

"Well, his hands are calloused from work with acids and other irritant chemicals and there is a slight dusting of Magnesium Sulphate powder on the cuff of his right sleeve. Really Anderson, do your eyes not work?"

"Anyway, as I was saying before this idiot rudely interrupted me-" John tried to stifle a laugh after hearing Sherlock's comment. "The man was a science professor, probably from Oxford or Cambridge judging by his amount of luggage. 'Then why is he in London?' I hear your tiny little brains scream. He was back in London to visit family and to see his girlfriend. See the bulge on the inside left pocket of his blazer? That'll be an engagement ring box."

Lestrade and John peered up Sherlock dumbfounded. John knew his boyfriend was extremely clever, but he got all that out of the dead man's suit..."brilliant..."

"Thank you my love." The detective gave John a cheeky smile and a wink, causing the doctor to blush - realising he'd said that out loud. "I think we're done here, Lestrade. Don't call me out for child's play again, you interrupted a good episode of Doctor Who." Sherlock spun around making his coat flow behind him like a super hero cape. 'Sherlock is my hero' John thought to himself, smiling.

The detective slipped his hand into the doctors as he hailed a cab.

***

Back at the flat, John walked into the kitchen and switched the kettle on. As he started to make the tea, he heard a beautiful melody start to play. Sherlock ran the bow carefully across the strings and danced his fingers along the neck of his mahogany violin.

"That's beautiful Sherlock." The detective spun around and grabbed John's waist. He gently pulled him in for a kiss.

The moment was sheer bliss, but of course those moments all come to an end. Sherlock's violin that once lie on the arm of his chair slipped to the floor with a crash. Sherlock ripped away from John and tended to his well-loved instrument.

"No..." He whispered as he saw the broken strings hanging from the pegs.

"Sherlock" John bent down and rubbed the detetectives back, only to have his hand shrugged off. "Sherlock, we can go in to the music shop tomorrow and get some replacement strings-"

"No you don't understand!" Sherlock roared, causing John's eyes to well up. "My...my mother gave me this...a month before she died. I-" Sherlock swallowed hard. "Just leave me alone for a bit, ok?" The detective refused to look into the doctors eyes.

"Fine." And with that, John marched out of the building.

***

John strolled down the road, not sure of where his feet were taking him. In his mind he was trying to process everything that had just happened. He understood why Sherlock was so upset; his mother had died after he turned 21. She was the only person who understood Sherlock and accepted him for who he was. John knew all this, yet he was still stumped on why the detective had flipped out at him. It wasn't his fault?

John kept walking until he reached Scotland Yard. He then made his way up to Lestrade's division.

***

Sherlock shut the door to the flat. He had just been to the music shop to get some new strings, and felt awful for flipping out at John. It wasn't his fault after all.

After a moment of thinking, the detective rushed out the door and ran to the nearest shop to by a bouquet of red roses. He had a plan.

***