A Chance To Stay Alive - Johnlock

6) Love Bug

Please vote if you enjoy :)
••••••••
Lestrade had taken the curtesy to drive Sherlock back to 221b. Mycroft had already retreated back to his own home. The boy sat limply in the passenger seat, his eyes bloodshot and giving the occasional sniff. Nobody had ever seen Sherlock Holmes cry before. Greg hadn't wanted to say anything, it would've probably made him more upset anyway. The car eventually pulled up beside the flats and the detective helped the weak boy out of the vehicle. He pushed open the front door of the house just as Mrs Hudson came rushing in.
"Oh my Sherlock!" She cried, wrapping her arms around him.
"What's wrong!?"
Sherlock simply shook his head and stared at the floor silently.
Lestrade let out a sigh and leaned towards the landlady.
"I think something happened tonight," he muttered gruffly.
"Just make sure he's okay won't you?"
Mrs Hudson nodded, understanding, and helped the youngest Holmes to his room. Greg stood sadly by the doorframe, eyeing them as they left. Something wasn't right at all.
"I'll bring you up some tea love," the landlady said warmly, wrapping Sherlock in a woollen blanket on the sofa.
She shuffled out of the room and the brown-haired boy looked around in confusion, unsure of what had just happened. He hadn't felt emotion like this in such a long time, not since he was a child. But it felt so odd for him to be sat there, with Mrs Hudson fussing over him like an overprotective mother. Sherlock stretched out across the sofa and clutched to the blanket, stifling a yawn.
"Here you are dear."
A mug of tea was placed on the coffee table and then once again, Sherlock was left alone.
However it wasn't long before his eyes drifted shut and he fell straight to sleep, snuggled up against the warmth of the covers.

••••••

When he awoke the next morning, the youngest brother realised that he was not alone anymore, and that his tea had also gone stone cold. Shame. But John Watson was now slumped in his armchair, snoring away. Sherlock smiled to himself and got to his feet, slipping off the blankets and pulling on his dressing gown. He assumed that John was hangover, God he was absolutely pissed the night before. The skinny boy grabbed for his laptop and perched on his own armchair, opening back up his roommate's blog. There were only two posts; one simply labelled "about me" and the other "an eventful day." Sherlock clicked on the most recent update and began to read through it, his eyes lighting up.

I met a young man in a coffee shop today, his name was Sherlock Holmes. I admit it wasn't the greatest start, he had accidently spilt his drink all over my laptop. But Sherlock turned out to be quite a pleasant man who was fun to talk to. He noticed my state and offered me a place at his flat for the night, I happily accepted. But this morning he asked me to move in, and we're officially flatmates! I can't wait for the days still to come. I'll try and update soon, but I'm just setting in now.

The curly-haired boy's cheeks burned a bright red and he scrolled down to the comments. To his surprise, the same person had left over five messages, all of them trying to get through to John.

You should have moved in with me and Clara.

John, answer me!

Do mother and father know yet?

John please reply.

The most recent one was from last night, and the writer was evidently called Harry. Most probably John's older brother. Sherlock however didn't understand what he wanted so desperately and closed the laptop, leaning back against the chair. He hadn't received any calls from Greg since the incident last night, and he had begun to wonder whether he had scared away the inspector. There came a slight commotion from nearby and Sherlock's head darted up, realising that his flatmate was now awake. The skinny boy tried to contain his laughter as he made his way over to John.
"Sherlock," John slurred, squinting up at him, a face of thunder.
How much had he had to drink?
Sherlock's mouth rolled into a smile and he folded his arms. 
"Got a bit of a hangover have we?"
John's face dropped suddenly, his eyes watching Sherlock worriedly.
"No it's not that...Sherlock wait!"
Sherlock gave a final smirk before turning on his heel and walking away from the armchair.
"I'm just going out for a bit, ask Mrs Hudson to bring you some water if you want," he replied casually, walking into the flat's bathroom. There he adjusted his hair and slipped on a grey hoodie as some jeans. The boy ruffled up his hair a bit before leaving, and noticed that John had fallen back asleep. Sherlock smiled slightly and closed the door shut behind him.

The curly-haired boy wasn't going far, just for a quick walk around the block. He stretched out his arms and ran his fingers back through his hair, listening to the echoes of his own footsteps. But Sherlock's mind couldn't stop pondering from the scene last night, John back against the kitchen wall making out with another girl. Of course it shouldn't have affected him, but the boy didn't expect that from John. Maybe for the first time his deductions had been wrong. Sherlock rounded the corner and immediately collided into somebody. Unfortunately, that somebody happened to be Molly Hooper from Barts Hospital. The pale boy stumbled back before gathering himself.
"Oh, Sherlock!" Molly cried surprised, her cheeks burning a bright red.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow and pressed a finger to his lips.
"Molly...hello," he replied quietly, almost filling with dread.
Molly gave a small giggle for a second before biting her smooth lips.
"I didn't expect you out here, how's things?"
Sherlock glanced at her and shrugged slightly, watching Molly's intrigued look.
"Fine, everything's fine," he mumbled blankly.
Molly perched on her tiptoes for a second, her mouth open as if she wanted desperately to say something.
"I've heard you've got a um a flatmate?" She asked hopefully.
"John, he's called John."
Molly smiled simply, a look of sadness tinted in her eyes.

Sherlock watched her for a minute, noticing her expression and he thought hard, trying to reach a decision.
"Don't worry it's not what you think," he explained quickly.
Molly gasped almost too loudly.
"No, no! I wasn't thinking that I just-"
Sherlock smiled longingly and pulled her closely, leaning down over her lips.
"Don't say anything," Sherlock whispered quietly and kissed her gently on her lips.