A Chance To Stay Alive - Johnlock

11) Alone

"You better have a good reason for this," John stuttered, tears continuing to dribble down his soft face.
Sherlock simply stared at him, not even trying to hide his shock.
"Please can you explain to me what's happening," he replied, his face pale and gaunt.
"Because I've got no bloody clue."
It was obvious now that people across the street were beginning to stare, a few gawping at the two.  Agitated, John grabbed Sherlock by the sleeve and pulled with down into the undergrowth.
"I mean this," Sherlock's roommate hissed, holding up at a battered poster.
It took the curly-haired boy a few seconds to realise what the photo was of. Then it clicked. It was him and John, last night sleeping together.
"You set up a camera?" Sherlock asked limply, his face dropping.
John paused for a moment.
"You didn't?" He replied hesitantly.
The skinny boy merely shook his head. John eyes for a moment before sucking his lip and frowning.
"Well these posters are all over the city," he continued nervously.
"Everyone's seen them and now nobody will leave us alone."
Sherlock bowed his head, trying his best to process all of this.
"We have to go back to Baker Street," he eventually muttered, bony fingers pressed on his lips.
"Together?"
John stared at the curly-haired boy for a second, their eyes locking, before hastily pulling away.
"Alone," he muttered miserably.

The two boys reluctantly pulled apart and went their separate ways. John took the main road while Sherlock was left to walk the empty side streets. He adapted to a brisk walk as he made his way down the pavement, trench-coat swaying in the bitter December wind. The curly-haired boy's mind was racing. The hospital visit had already caused enough stress, but with the arrival of John it had practically doubled. He reached into his pocket and his hand lingered for a moment, the crave for nicotine worsening. He forced himself to pull away just as he turned the corner into Baker Street. Sherlock opened the front-door and made his way up the stairs, ignoring Mrs Hudson's calls. He walked into the living room where John was waiting, sat upright in his armchair, a solemn expression on his face.
"Well," the blonde boy grumbled.
"Well indeed," Sherlock agreed, taking a seat opposite him by the fireplace.
"This isn't a joke, Sherlock," John replied, turning to face his roommate. The curly-haired boy held his hand up in defence.
"And I never said it was," he admitted, getting up from out of his chair.

Sherlock eyed John for a moment.
"So the photos, they're up over town?"
John cleared his throat and leant back in his seat.
"They're everywhere," he explained with a grimace.
The curly-haired boy hummed for a moment before gazing up around the room. John watched him with a mild curiosity.
"I'll start in the living room, you start in the bedroom," Sherlock decided, pressing a finger to his lips.
"What do you mean?" The blonde boy asked with a small frown.
"There's only one camera isn't there? It's only in the bedroom right?"
Sherlock's face sunk slightly.
"Well no," he corrected.
"There's obviously more."
He didn't immediately realise what was happening, it was only when the tall boy heard muffled crying when he saw John stood with his head in his hands.
"John," he muttered, concerned. Sherlock held out a bony hand and nervously placed it on his roommate's shoulder.
"I know it's hard but we'll get through this okay."
John glanced up and Sherlock yet again saw his blotchy face, stained with tears.
"Promise?" He whispered.
"Promise." Sherlock replied, his face relaxing. John eventually gave a feeble nod and trailed off to the bedroom, leaving Sherlock alone in the living room.

There were a total of five cameras set up in the living room. One behind the bookcase, one attached to the coffee table, and the rest staggered around the room. John also emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, clutching what looked like two more cameras. The blonde boy passed them all over to Sherlock before curling up into his armchair against a cushion. Sherlock watched him for a moment before snapping his head away and sitting down himself.
"That's all of them then," he said suddenly, causing John to gaze up at him.
"The cameras, there's none left."
The curly-haired boy leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs.
"What a day," he admitted with a small frown.
John gave a sarcastic chuckle and eyed Sherlock.
"We can get the rest of the posters down tomorrow?" He asked hopefully.
Sherlock smiled.
"Course," he replied smoothly.

"Dinner?"
"Starving."

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