Big Ben Strikes The Eleventh Hour (Wholock)

Like A Hedgehog without Quills

John wandered around London wondering if maybe he'd been a little too harsh. He knew that Sherlock was practically addicted to this sort of stuff, but still, why didn't he at least tell John what he was doing? John was pretty sure that Sherlock didn't care if he dragged John  into impossibly dangerous situations, so why was this time any different? The question was driving John crazy. He sighed, running a hand through his hair and decided to go for a drink to clear his head. He walked into a bar and nearly had a heart attack. 

"Sherlock?" he cried. What was he doing here? John was pretty sure Sherlock didn't drink.

Sherlock nodded his head at John politely, the stupid bastard. "John," he said. "Before you ask, I knew you would up here eventually because of your usually habits of drinking when you need answers."

"Eff off," John snarled, pushing past Sherlock to pay for a beer. When he turned around, however, Sherlock was stilled standing. For some reason, this pissed him off more than the fight did.

"What?" he hissed. Sherlock winced.

"I came to, er, apologize," Sherlock started. John looked around. The bar was almost empty, but that made sense, considering it was morning. The bartender was ignoring them both.

"I  don't want to hear it," John said angrily.

"Yes you do," Sherlock told him. John nearly hit him.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" he demanded. Sherlock looked at him quizzically.

"Well, I assumed you would want to know why I didn't tell you," Sherlock said. He raised an eyebrow at John. John stepped away for a second, suspicious. What was Sherlock going at?

"Oh, come on," Sherlock groaned, his monotone persona finally breaking. "I'm trying to apologize! Isn't that what you people are supposed to do?"

John glared at him, processing what Sherlock had just said. Finally he pulled Sherlock into a chair and waited, sipping his beer.

"Well?" he asked impatiently when Sherlock didn't say anything. "What's you explanation?"

Sherlock took a deep breath and then told John what he had been thinking. "When we were at that first house, I saw that this was going to be a difficult, especially with this 'Doctor' and his friends. It wasn't like any case I had ever seen, or even heard of. For the first time, I was worried that maybe this case would be unsolved. And, yes, I know I have had lots of those, but those failures had always fallen to the limits of our technology, not me-" John rolled his eyes. "-and it was never my  failure. And then the Doctor came along, someone who was, was... who seemed to know more about this particular issue than me, and I assume that you might want to with him, since obviously, you would think his is more impressive than me. I thought you might have wanted to leave. That would have certainly been bad, as I am lost without my blogger."

At first John didn't say anything, and he was astounded when Sherlock actually looked uncomfortable for a second. He always had to remind himself Sherlock was human, so when this bit of humanity shined through, he was taken aback. All he could say was: "Oh..."

Sherlock coughed awkwardly, then tried to regain his posture. "Well, if you want to help me, I suppose we could start..."

"Uh, yes," John said, hastily standing up. Sherlock stood up with him, and together they headed for the exit. "And Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"You don't have to worry about me. I wouldn't leave you. I promise"

John must've been imagining it, but it seemed like a smiled ghosted Sherlock's face before t returned to his usual expression.