"Will you lie down?"

"No."

"Will you eat?"

"No."

"Will you at least look at me?"

The tall, slender man stilled in his movements. The bow made a slow journey over the strings of his violin, eliciting a drawn out note.

"I am looking at you, John. Don't be ridiculous."

John was close to ripping out chunks of his hair he was so frustrated. Sherlock had been home from his kidnapping ("Confrontation. I would never let myself get kidnapped") for two days and had barely had a full meal since then, let alone slept. The thing that annoyed John the most, though, was that he wouldn't look him in the eye.

"Just- Please, Sherlock. I know you don't want to talk about it, but those marks on your body-"

"They don't hurt."

"You're lying. But that's not what I was going to say." John stood up and moved over to his best friend, who was looking out the window. "He hurt you with that necklace you're wearing. The tags or whatever they are." After a few seconds of hesitation he put his hand on his friend's shoulder, finding comfort in his warmth. "I know you don't like talking about them and I won't make you explain why you're suddenly wearing them. Just- let me know if you need anything."

Sherlock's stoic features looked like they had been frozen on his face. John squeezed his shoulder before letting go. He had almost made it to the kitchen when Sherlock said:

"John. Come here."

John sighed and returned to his place next to the detective, who slowly put down his violin. Sherlock raised his hands and grabbed the chain around his neck, lifted it over his head, carefully slipped the tags out of his shirt and then put the necklace in John's hand. John looked down on the tags hanging from the chain, a confused look on his face.

WATSON
JOHN H
FG123456Z
A POS

He looked up.

"Sherlock."

Once again the other man avoided his eyes.

"Sherlock. These are mine."

"I know that, John, I've been wearing them for several months."

John almost threw his hands up in the air.

"Why, Sherlock? They were in the box under my bed, did you just take them?"

Sherlock kept his eyes downcast, if John didn't know better he'd think he was embarrassed. But that couldn't be it, could it? Sherlock didn't do things like that, he didn't get embarrassed. The idea that Sherlock had walked around wearing tags with John's name on them made a comfortable warmth settle somewhere very close to his heart, and he had to close his eyes for a few seconds to get used to the thought that this was probably just some behavioural experiment.

"I liked the idea of walking around with a piece of you."

John's eyes flew open.

"What did you say?"

Sherlock's eyes finally met his.

"They mean a lot to you. The thought of having something that's so important to you is appealing to me, but I didn't think you'd like me to have them. So I… borrowed them." That rendered the doctor absolutely speechless. "You don't have to say anything, John. Take them back."

"No, Sherlock, I-" John hadn't even considered this a possibility when he started noticing the chain around his best friend's neck. He had no idea what to say, so he did the first thing he could think of. Very carefully, to make sure that Sherlock could pull away if he wished, he raised himself up on his tiptoes, put his arms around Sherlock's neck, and enveloped the other man in a hug.

"John-"

"Shut up for once."

It took him a few seconds, but soon John could feel Sherlock's arms encircle his waist. He turned his face into the other man's neck and inhaled his scent. It was so very Sherlock.

"Keep them", he said, leaned back and placed the chain around Sherlock's neck.

"Why?"

"Oh for God's sake, don't question it. Just keep them."

The hold on his waist tightened as he put his hands on Sherlock's shoulders.

"I wish I could give you something in return", said the detective.

John thought about it for a moment.

"Have a full meal. At Angelo's. With me. That's all I'm asking."

"Hm. And if I agree to this, will you, when Angelo asks which we both know he will, still claim that it's not a date?"

"I suppose I could just keep quiet and let him come to his own conclusions."

Sherlock actually chuckled, and in a moment so ridiculously intimate it almost took the breath out of both of them, he leaned his forhead against John's. John could feel his hot breath on his lips as the detective said:

"Then I guess... it's all fine."

-o-

A/N: I have an idea for a sequel of sorts, because I want to write more Sherlock-leaves-subtle-hints-that-he's-head-over-heels because we all know he wouldn't actually come out and say it. Also I need to write a kiss. So if you feel like that would be interesting, let me know.

Thank you so much for following and favouriting (shh, it's a word) and reviewing and reading, you are all so precious and awesome. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you'll stick around.