Okay, here it goes. My first Sherlock-fic, after reading so many others. Please tell me if I go out of character. I will try to make this like I imagine Sherlock's mind works on this sort of stuff, the relationship between John and Sherlock. Johnlock. Any spellingmistakes I apologize for in advance, English is not my native language, unfortunately.

"I'm bored. I'm so BLOODY bored." Sherlock lay on the sofa, sulking with his face facing the wall. John, who'd just come in the door, walked fast over to the desk and took Sherlock´s gun. If he started shooting on the wall again, Mrs. Hudson would have a heart attack.

"There's no need to hide my gun, John. If I wanted to shoot the wall I would've done it already, and you are just going to hide it under your bed again," Sherlock said.

"How could you,- never mind." John gave up even before the sentence was fully completed. He was tired after working at the surgery, and he didn't want to hear Sherlock sulk.

John opened his mouth to ask him if there were any cases, but closed it just the same. He could already hear Sherlock voice saying: Obvious. You think I'd lie here if there were any? As if Sherlock had known what John thought, he rolled his eyes to him.

"Make me some tea." John frowned, he was so tired, and he'd had a really bad day. He turned and said "what?" with a good enough doze with anger so Sherlock should hear he'd said something wrong. But Sherlock was bored and didn't care.

"I said make me some tea. Not only do you never observe, but you never listen either." Sherlock sat up in the sofa just in time to not get hit by the book John had thrown at him.

"Oh, that was mature."

"THAT was mature? THAT WAS MATURE? HOW MATURE DO YOU THINK IT IS TO LIE ON THE SOFA SULKING LIKE A LITTLE CHILD BECAUSE YOU ARE BORED? AND THEN YOU CAN'T EVEN LIFT YOUR ASS UP TO MAKE YOUR OWN TEA?" John yelled. He was so sick of Sherlock´s sulking, which had been going on for days. Now he'd snapped. Sherlock looked confused, and like he just realized he'd said something wrong.

"You're upset. Not good?" John looked at his flat mate in totally disbelief, turned on his heel and stormed out of the apartment. Sherlock was left for a few seconds with a kind of puzzled face, before he went back to sulking.

John didn't stop for a second, before he found himself behind a huge container, and he remembered he'd used to go there when he was young. He was confused, angry, and not thinking clearly. This place was miles away from Baker Street. He must have gone for over an hour, without noticing. He really didn't know why he was acting so strange. He was moody, confused and his feelings towards Sherlock went up and down like a roller coaster. This shouldn't upset him so much, he knows how Sherlock is. He doesn't think like normal people, and have no clue what's right and what's wrong and what you're not supposed to say. Nor could he care less about people's feelings, but John always hoped he was an exception. John shook his head, just as his phone vibrated.

Out of milk. Get some on your way home. – SH

John threw his phone into the Thames. Then he sat down on a rock, trying to deduce his own feelings, and came to a rather unpleasant conclusion.

"There you are," Sherlock said, without raising his head from the computer. John's computer, that is.

"Did you get milk?"

"Have you taken my PC again? Can't you use your own? Yours are even newer than mine!"

"Mine was in the bathroom. Milk. Did you get milk?"

"The bathroom? What the hell is your PC doing in the bathroom?"

"Experiment."

"You are just-" John swallowed his own words, and turned.

"Did you get milk?"

"No." John answered without looking at him.

"But I texted you."

"My phone doesn't work any longer, it's wet."

"Ah, you threw it in the Thames." Sherlock said. "Feelings, John. Try to not let yourself get carried away with them. Look what they make you do. Not very well thought through, is it? I'll buy you a new one."

"How could you possibly know that? Did you follow me?" John hissed. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Don't be so boring. You didn't answer, so you were obviously still upset about the tea-argument. Then you said your phone was wet, and it's obvious you have thrown something with your arm, since you are carrying it like you have stretched something. It's not that huge a hurt, though, so it has to be a small thing, but you still threw it with all your strength, hence the way your shoulder is placed."

John was stunned, once again. He never stopped being amused by how easy Sherlock read everything, and how granted he took it. It could be extremely irritating and frustrating, but John had to admit he really liked it. He learned so much, and it was always funny to see the look on Andersons or Donovan´s face when Sherlock made hints of what they'd been doing. Donovan could say what she wanted; Sherlock would never be a freak to him. Stop, he was entering a thinking minefield. Sherlock had deduced about the Woman, so he could easily do it with him to.

"Stop steering at me, and give me that tea," Sherlock said, not looking up from the computer. John collected the many mine blown pieces of himself, snapped his computer from Sherlock and said:

"Make that tea yourself. See you in the morning."

"It's eight o´clock." It wasn't a question or a sarcastic comment; he was just stating a fact like he usually did.

"Yes, but I'm tired." John said, in a hurry to leave the room. He didn't want Sherlock to deduce him any more times this night. Before Sherlock had the time to say something, and by golly, he had something to say, John had disappeared off to his room. Sherlock gave him some minutes before he realized he was way to interested in what the hell was going on with John, to do anything else somewhat useful, and jumped up the stairs to Johns bedroom.

When Sherlock opened the door without any warning, he found a pretty naked John standing in the middle of his room, looking for something in one of the drawers. When he heard the door open, he turned around half in shock, and started blushing within seconds. Sherlock stood there, awkward and didn't know what to say. One of the words John almost never heard Sherlock say escaped Sherlock´s mouth.

"Sorry," he said, hastily, and went out of the room. When John had put on his clothes, or his pajamas that is, he went down to the living room to ask why Sherlock had come up to his room. The living room was empty, so he silently checked Sherlock´s bedroom. In the dark he could se a contour of a slender, high, dark figure, who breathe regularly and is clearly asleep. He smiled to himself at the sight of his best friend and flat mate, before he silently closed the door and headed back to his own room.

Sherlock wasn't asleep, of course. He barely slept, and never at ten p.m. He could hear John smile, and he didn't quite know what to make of it. He considered going back to John´s room again, but decided against it. Sherlock didn't want to wake him up. He lay still for some time, thinking about how boring it was to just lie in a bed, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't very soundproof between John´s bedroom upstairs and Sherlock´s, so they could easily hear if they spoke with a little higher voice than usual.

As Sherlock lay there, he suddenly heard his own name, coming from John´s room. It sounded somewhat like a moan, or a cry, a grunt. A claw took a very unpleasant hold around what Sherlock figured must be his heart, and squeezed it. Maybe John needed help. He ran upstairs, as silent as he could, which was almost totally quiet, grabbing his gun on the way. When he came up to John´s room, he pushed the door open carefully, and looked around. Nobody was there, and John was sleeping in his bed. Sherlock breathed relieved out. Nothing was wrong. John must have dreamt. He closed John´s door and sat down in the living room, trying not to think about John´s heavy breath. This one time he got really angry for being so good at deducing everything. He cursed out to himself, and opened his laptop. Blank. He didn't know what to write or do, so he just let it stand open. If John never brought it up, they might never need to have that conversation.

Yeah, guys, that's the first chapter. I realize this might look like some of the other stories around here, but I promise, it's not. Just wait and see :)
I imagine this fanfic is going to go on for a while, so the story may continue a little slowly. If that's no good, tell me, please. Reviews make my day! (Hint hint)