A/n: I'm back again, with a new instalment! I am really sorry for the long waits guys but I am trying to write and update as much as I can. I hope it lives up to your expectations, and I hope you still like this story, despite the long waits! Your reviews as always mean a lot, and honesty make my day! I love you all, as much as I love writing this story xx

Alice's eyes were puffy and red, and she looked at John in a way that made my chest seize up with undisguised pain.

"John," She whispers, her voice barely there. She wringed her hands together in a way I'd seen so many clients do before. It was an obvious sign of nervousness, of anxiety and worry. My eyes flickered across her pleading face, and scanned her like I would do any other stranger who came into our flat.

Except she wasn't a stranger. She had a past with John. John had….had John loved her? My mind flashed back to earlier, when things had for a brief moment seemed so right. John had told me he loved me. The last few days were quick to follow that thought. His kisses, his experiment, his confusion. My own confusion, and strange desire. Had John said the same to her? I stopped the train of thought and looked at her again, the pain worsening slowly. What if the last few days had just been an experiment for John? Just like he'd said. Maybe it was just his way of discovering himself. Or maybe it was designed to get through to me in a way he could never have before…

"What do you want Alice?" John's voice seemed to penetrate my hazy cloud of pain, and it was rough with an emotion I didn't understand. I remain stock still, running through the possible scenarios of what would happen if I moved. I was certain that Alice hadn't seen me yet.

"I'm sorry," She said, "I'm sorry, we shouldn't have fought, and it was my fault…but,"

"Alice," John said quietly, "You told me you never wanted to see me again,"

I can hear this quiet, restrained anger and confusion in his voice. I wonder what the fight was about. I remembered the night he'd come back early, and he'd hugged as though I was his only way of breathing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm sorry I didn't mean to... I wasn't thinking straight... I need you..," she trailed off and her pleading look returned. Her eyes glistened wetly in the week sunlight coming through the curtains. From my place in the doorway, I couldn't tell whether she was lying, and it frustrated me. If she wasn't, what would John do?

John. My John. Would he stay with me?

He told me he loved me.

I'd only just began to realise the full extent of my emotions towards him.

Did he love Alice more?

"Alice I..." John's voice faded as he turned to look at me. His soft face had always been so easy for me to read, and now I could see dozens of emotions. I saw sadness, guilt, hurt. But I also saw relief. And he looked at me as though he was pleading me to understand.

For once in my life I was so completely confused. 'What does that mean?' I wanted to ask, but I couldn't, of course. I couldn't do anything. So I stayed silent and found myself feeling blank with dull worry. My eyes found John's deep blue ones, and something inside me ached, longed for him to be able to see how I was feeling. But I just didn't know how to show him.

I just didn't know.

The atmosphere was charged with some sort of emotion, and Alice perhaps had realised that John had been looking away for too long. I didn't have to look at her to see that she had suddenly seen me.

"What's he doing there?" She said loudly, her voice suddenly harsh, accusing.

The agonising moment between John and I broke, and John turned away, leaving me more confused and empty than before.

"He's my flatmate Alice," John said warily, "why did you come here?"

I looked away from John and to Alice. She was staring at me, and I could see something in her eyes akin to anger.

"I need to talk to you..." She said abruptly, "alone," she added pointedly. Her hands were white, she was clasping them that tightly.

John looked at me again, but I avoided his gaze. My heart felt like it was churning and I didn't want him to see that in my face. I couldn't rely on my mask to hold me up.

I wanted to take his hand, and keep him away from her. I wanted to make him see me the way he has looked at me earlier.

"I won't be long," he said, so quietly that I could only assume that it was meant for only me to hear it. He was pleading with his eyes for me to understand.

I didn't understand, but I nodded anyway.

"Okay," he said finally, this time loudly turning so his back was to me, "why don't we go downstairs to Speedy's?"

He lead her out of the room, and the door swung shut behind them. I stood still in the doorway, staring at the empty lounge, unable to move. My phone was still in my hand from Lestrade's earlier text. I felt numb with worry. What did he mean?

It was probably nothing. I had seen what had happened. It was perfectly logical for Alice to try and make amends. Usually, I would feel like this if something else like this happened. What was wrong with me?

I shook my head slightly, quickly, clearing the fog. I headed to the kitchen, craving nicotine and making tea instead on autopilot. I still hadn't replied to Lestrade. I wanted to go on it, but I wanted to go with John.

God when had I got so dependant?

I left the kitchen in a sudden whirl, and grab my scarf from the hanger, all thoughts of tea gone. I was going to go on this case. I needed a distraction.

When I get to the crime scene, Lestrade was the only one there. He spots me from a way off and performs his little skipping half jog that he saves for awkward emergencies.

"Sherlock," he says, nodding his head as he catches me. He looked tired, but he'd overdosed on caffeine by the manic look glinting in his grey eyes.

"So the murder happened about six and a half hours ago then," I say immediately, my eyes already scanning ahead to the taped off area.

"How did you...?" Lestrade began, in the way he always did. Normally I would have smirked, but today John wasn't here.

I didn't feel like smirking.

"You've clearly been here all night," I said matter-of-factly , striding past him, "you've had at least four coffees, and you generally wait for half an hour after one before having another," I explain over my shoulder.

"Okay, well you're almost right," he said catching up with me and leading me over, "except it was tea the last two times..."

I raise an eyebrow, "Garath you stink of black coffee, you haven't touched a teabag since you left your flat,"

"It's Greg," he interjected, annoyed, "and it's the truth... But why are we even?... Never mind I need you to look at this for me,"

By this time I was standing over the familiar sight of a fallen human.

It was a male, around my own age... Possibly older judging by his preferred aftershave...

I leant down to further examine him.

"What did he die of?" I ask.

"That's a good question- where's John?"

I ignore his question, and run my hands down the corpse.

There is an ID badge holder in his left pocket, and I pull it out. It's thin and worn, and white letters spell out the name of the nearest GP surgery on a blue background. I show this to Lestrade, "looks like he was a doctor,"

The whole thing reminds me painfully of John, and I suddenly don't want to do it anymore. My insides feel like they're squirming with anxiety. I don't like the feeling... So stupidly human. What was John saying to Alice?

I pull back an eyelid and peer at his eyes. They're blood shot.

"Arsenic poisoning," I say finally, intrigued.

"Arsenic?" Lestrade repeated incredulously, "how do you know?"

"His eyes are blood shot, he's experienced hair loss, and there's clear signs of muscle wastage," I say simply, "also the white lines on his fingernails...though you'll probably need to do blood tests to be sure," I straighten up, "I think that's everything,"

Lestrade blinked, confused, "what do you mean, who is he?"

"He's male, around 38 years of age and working at the nearest GP surgery. He's unmarried and has recently been on a few dates,"

I toss him the lanyard, "you might want to start there inspector,"

"But aren't you going to...?" Lestrade began helplessly.

"Come on!" I say, exasperated, "it's not that hard! It's clear that the girlfriend did it! His symptoms show signs of long term arsenic poisoning, which is easy for the girlfriend, all she had to do was slip some in his food or drink whenever they went out!"

I left Lestrade to bluster and babble for a while before pointing out the blonde hairs on the mans jacket and the restaurant bills in his wallet. This seemed to be enough to persuade Lestrade that I was telling the truth. He left for the GP surgery with the promise to call me if things got too hard for him, not that he would ever admit that.

I took a taxi back to the flat.

Now that the distraction was over, the thoughts of John were almost too overwhelming. It swallowed every other thought, and made my barely understood emotions swirl like a strong hurricane.

I hated the fact that I loved John enough to feel like this.

I entered the flat quietly, not knowing whether John was back, but not wanting to announce my presence if he was. I head up the stairs, and listen keenly to any sound. I can't hear talking. Maybe Alice had gone?

My stomach felt like a tight knot as I tried to consider every possible scenario of what I would find up there. The worst of them made me hesitate ever so slightly when I got to the flat door. I hovered there, feeling that ever more familiar pain in my chest. I hated this. I shook my head, and blinked. The wood on the door was chipped and worn looking.

I opened the door.

John was there, but he was alone. He was sitting in his chair, like it was any other day.

I don't know why, but the sight of him, my John, sitting there made my muscles freeze.

I was too worried about what would happen if I spoke. I don't know what I would sound like. I don't know how my emotions would make me sound.

I hated being out of control, but John had made me like this.

John seemed to sense that I was there, because he suddenly looked around. His face was crumpled, and the sadness radiated across the room.

"Sherlock," he mumbled. He stood up slowly, and staggered over until he was right in front of me.

"Sherlock," he repeated, and he said it as though it was a breath of air. He reached his arm out, and I felt his hand on my chest. His palm was warm, and the heat radiated through my shirt. That feeling was enough to make my mind go blank. I parted my lips.

"John, are you okay?" I ask quietly. He doesn't answer, instead looking at my chest. His hand slides down slowly, as though he is exploring. I suddenly feel like my lungs have stopped working. I hold my breath whilst my confusion and curiosity build. The feel of his hand was nearly paralysing.

"You're so...beautiful," he whispered finally. I stare down at him, too stunned to reply. His stray hand finds a place resting at my hip. His wondering eyes lift to mine, and I see such complex emotion in them. John had always been expressive.

"Kiss me," John says quietly. Such simple words and yet following them through is almost impossible. My body was both seized with the urge to, and too terrified to.

"I..." I stammered, my brain failing me once again in the face of my own nervous desires. It was still stuck on the thought of Alice.

John's other hand grasped my arm, "please," he begged, "please... I need to know,"

"Know what John?" I bluster, confused and scared and intensely needing him all at once.

"Please," he whispered again. And the pleading desperation in his eyes made my heart ache. My breathing fluttered unstably, my shaking hand, so calm and deft when it came to experiments and science, reached out towards his face.

I almost hesitated. But when my fingertips touched his skin, and prickled with the stubble, my surge of emotion was almost overwhelming. I held his soft, expressive beautiful face in my hand, and God I knew I never wanted to touch anyone else like this. It was John. It had always been only ever John.

I stepped forward awkwardly, and lifted his face slowly to mine, my nerves rolling like an ocean. I leant my forehead against his, and I felt his rapid breathing, heightened by anticipation, or maybe nerves. The space between us was hot and the tension kept rising. I let myself kiss him, I let my lips find his, in a way id only ever imagined. It was hard, me doing the leading, and for once I was completely at a lack for what to do. I kept my lips on his, and felt myself melt under the soft and warm touch. John pushed himself closer to me, and his hands slid around to my back. He grasped on and kissed me hard, almost roughly, as though trying to feel as much of it as possible. I held him in place, scared of what might be coming.

When we broke apart, he looked up at me.

"Sherlock," he said, and his lower lip trembled, "I..." He looked down, and I was startled to find glistening crystal tears on his cheeks.

"What is it?" I ask, as gently as I could. His behaviour scared me.

"Alice," he said finally, and as I stiffened, he refused to meet my eyes.

"What did she say,?" I hardly dared to ask.

"Why did you leave without me?" He asked me instead. I stared at him.

"I didn't know when you would be back," I said, and swallowed tightly, hoping he wouldn't see that it was only half the truth.

"Alice said... She said that you were experimenting... On me... Just to get me away from her...,"

"What?" I was horrified. Alice was filling John's head with lies.

"And when I got back, you weren't there, and I realised that you'd gone without me... Like I meant nothing..." John broke off with a gasp. His head fell with a soft thud onto my chest. I stood still, unsure what to do. John needed comfort. I was furious with Alice. My human emotions made me so weak and confused.

I lifted my hand and gently stroked his hair.

"I realised..." John continued, his voice subdued, muffled in my shirt, "I realised that I really really wanted you to love me,"

"John," my voice cracked, "I do love you John,"

I lift his head up to mine and kiss him again, and this time I seem to know what to do. I kiss him with all the emotion that I feel in a way I hadn't known how to do before. I try to make him understand just how much I want him through this kiss, and it leaves my lips burning with heat and my arms aching with the force of holding him to me. John stays soft and pliable in my arms, just melting into me. He was so warm and good and his shining light seemed to make me feel so much better. I kiss him until I am exhausted and when I let him go, the look on his face makes my own heart melt. It was one of pure, untainted joy.

"Alice wanted me to get back with her," he said finally, "and she was..." His face paled, "she was so... Angry... When I told her about you," he shuddered, "she stood up and shouted those things at me, and left,"

He looked horrified, "what have I done?"

I looked down at him, and wondered whether it was my fault. John had never expressed any interest in me before the hospital.

"I'm sorry," I say finally, and I mean it, which is strange for me. But he shakes his head roughly, and grasps my arm tightly.

"No," he said, "it was my fault. I spent so long denying it,"

He went silent then, and I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

"She will be back," he said fearfully after a while, "she promised me that," he sounded agonised, and I tried to imagine what it must be like for him. But I found that I couldn't, and stopped. It was difficult for me.

"I mean…" He swallowed, "I can understand that she's angry….I would be if it were me…but she told me she never wanted to see me again…and I got back that night and you were there and…."

John was really struggling and I didn't know what to do to make him better. So I extracted myself from his grip and went to make him some tea. I knew that the gesture would mean a lot.

"Sherlock?" John called, and I looked around quickly, "What…are we?" He asked awkwardly.

I blinked, "we're human John," I say, confused.

To my relief, and total bafflement, this seemed to make him laugh. I had no idea what he was laughing at, and frowned, "what?"

He shook his head, "I meant… Are we…. Um I don't know….you know….a…thing?" This sentence was long and painfully drawn out and I could see John blushing crimson even from the kitchen. I didn't remark on it, for my own capillaries were betraying me. I knew what he was asking, and I was both embarrassed and terrified to say it out loud. I didn't feel like I was responsible enough to say it. I made his tea with slightly shaking hands and once again found myself cursing my humanity. This was getting ridiculous. I was becoming so soft I may as well be a sponge!

"Um," John broke the suddenly tense silence as I handed him his tea. He smiled up at me gratefully, "if it's all the same to you…I think I would like to be,"

If I didn't know biology as well I did, iI could have sworn that my heart skipped a beat. I swallowed my sudden surge of emotion that made me want to inexplicably dance around the room uncharacteristically.

"I would like it too," I replied after a moment.

His answering smile was star bright and beautiful, and I felt it's glow almost like the warmth of a fire.

That was it. That was all it took for it to suddenly seem powerfully real. After all those years of wishing and wanting and silently hurting, it was real. But as I smiled, I couldn't help but worry. Alice wasn't done yet, and John's eyes still seemed haunted and sad. I wondered what else they had talked about.

I wondered whether I should still feel scared.

A/n: Sorry if it's a bit long! A review or two would be absolutely amazing! It honestly really helps to see what you guys think! Xx