Hi everyone! New story!
I absolutely don't know what I am doing here, so don't expect anything (apart fluffy moments and slash)... I just hope you'll like it and smile.
If you do, review :)

Chapter 1 - Missing words

"You are not listening to me John!"

"Sorry...yes...what?" John went out of his torpor with a start "What were you saying?"

Sherlock frowned, firstly he didn't like to repeat himself, secondly he couldn't stand being ignored and thirdly the mix of those two things infuriated him. Lucky it was John, the detective had a kind of kindness about the man that prevent him from yelling at him as he always did with the rest of the human kind's representative. Anyway, John's mental blank were more frequent these days.

"Do I have to repeat myself...again?" The consultant detective crossed his arms and John compared him with Mister Litz his math teacher at the uni who was used to often give him that look.

"I'm afraid you do."

"Well," Sherlock sighed " you meet me at Angelo's with this parcel at 7pm." He pointed at a grey box. "And yes you will be allowed to eat there. Don't deny you were about to ask. We will come back here ah 9pm, here, the apartment." Right, here he was clearly treating John as a dumb head, showing he was still irritated.

"I imagine asking what's in the box and why this timing is so important is a loss of time."

"Precisely."

"Well..." John got up.

"Where are you going?"

"Sherlock," the doctor looked up at his room-mate, slightly irritated too "it's 2pm, thanks to one of your cases I couldn't sleep last night, I'm going to, and that's not arguable, go take a shower, because as you can smell, I stink, and go take a really long nap. Of course, dear room-mate, friend, only consultant detective in the world, I'm not going to forget your parcel and your cryptic rendez-vous. Thank you and good night."

"When you're angry your phrases are longer, did you ever notice it?"

"Don't make me use shorter words for I have monosyllabic ones in mind I'm sure you won't like to ear."

The doctor climbed up the stairs and closed the bathroom door behind him. He wanted to take a long hot shower and relax. Well relax, he wished he could but his brain just wouldn't get rid of a certain kind of thoughts particularly persistent and to be frank disturbing.

Well, you know what I mean.

Oh you don't.

Maybe I should put it in words then.

Well...

London 15 days earlier

"Faster John!" Sherlock shouted over his shoulder.

"I do what I can..." The doctor panted chasing the detective coat tail.

They were running, well more precisely they were running away from the men that were chasing them right now running like long distance runner (with guns, which wasn't in the competition spirit, was it).

"This way!" Sherlock suddenly turned right in a little alley and caught John's arm leading him on a dark corner crouching down behind a garbage bin. "Come here!" He put his arm around John's shoulders and pulled him to his chest to muffle his breathing noise.

"Sherlock, I can't breathe..."

"Hush, John!" Sherlock's hand crawled behind John's neck to push him even closer, nose on his chest.

John focussed on his breathing and tried to synchronize it with Sherlock's who wasn't as short of breath as he was. After a minute or two the doctor started to notice Sherlock's heartbeat. It was fast but steady and John started to count the beatings. After his ears, his nose started to regain it's ability and there, even behind a garbage bin he could smell his roommate's smell a mix of soap, dust, chemicals, sweat and skin.

At this moment John's thoughts looked something like that:

"...twelve, I never noticed Sherlock smelled like that, thirteen, it smells quite good, fourteen, Sherlock, you liar! Is this cigarette smell? Fifteen, stop holding me so tight, sixteen, in fact, it doesn't feel so bad, seventeen, WHAT? John are you mad? Eighteen, you used my soap this morning, nineteen, your body is so warm..."

Suddenly he's been ripped off Sherlock's chest.

"John, I think they're gone, let's go!" The detective got up abruptly and John looked up blankly "Come on John, faster!"

Eventually they came back home and Sherlock managed to give enough data to the Yard for Lestrade to catch the bad men. Everything was exactly as it was supposed to be except...

… … …

"You are boring John?"

"What?"

"You haven't said a word since this morning. It's boring. And more than that it's quite unusual, what is bothering you John?"

"Nothing." The doctor answered a little too fast and the detective gave him his Spanish inquisition look, you know the one that makes you want to crawl and hide under the carpet.

"If you say so. Isn't it tea time?"

"Well must be somewhere in the world." The doctor got up and retreat in the kitchen. He came back five minutes later with two steaming mugs he put on the coffee table. He sat back on his chair and came back to his paper.

"So?"

"So what?"

"Will you tell me what's in your mind?"

"There is nothing in my mind, I mean nothing that is needing further investigations."

"All right then."

John crossed his legs and started reading again, at least pretending he was, since he was aware of Sherlock's look riveted on him.

"Okay now, can you just stop that, Sherlock stop watching me like that!" John said after ten minutes of trying unsuccessfully to ignore the situation. Sherlock didn't answer looking blankly at the doctor. "All right, you win, I'm going to my room." John got up, crossed the room and went up the stairs. He closed his bedroom's door and felt much much better. He felt stupid too, really really stupid. Because there really was something in his mind. Something that shouldn't be here and he refused to put it in words. No, no, no he wouldn't.

"Well, that was absolutely childish. Ridiculous. I don't know how I'm going to explain this when I will go downstairs. God I'm fucked. Just because..." No he wouldn't put it into words.

John stayed and hour lying on the bed and stupidly watching the ceiling. He jumped when he heard a knock on the door.

"John, we are expected at the morgue. You have two minutes, meet me in the taxi." Sherlock said through the door.

The doctor sighed and sat on the bed's edge. A corpse, perfect, this should distract the detective for at least an hour or two, who knows maybe more. John frowned, when did he became that cynical?

"Can you enlighten me a little?" The doctor sighed.

Sherlock gave John a strange look.

"What? I'm not an umbrella or a scarf, you can't just casually take me in your pocket when you go out, I'm a person and I want to know why you make me follow you, where I am going and what you expect me to do when we arrive there."

"I'm worried about you John."

"Worried?"

"Seems like something's wrong and I just can't understand what, of course I don't like that, but that's not the point. You are on the defensive, rude, and under stress. Your breathing and heartbeat are faster than the usual and, John, your hands are shaking."

John looked at his hands and clasped them together.

"You didn't answer my questions." John said coldly.

"Lestrade asked me, us, to come to the morgue. Suspicious death, male, late twenties found on a bench on the park. You'll have to examine the body to know more for it's all he told me." Sherlock turned his face to the window and looked outside.

Silence fell on the taxi. Awkward silence. John shook his head and looked outside.

"Come on John, stop being weird. You're sweating frustration. Yeah frustration, that's the word you were searching for when you were hiding in your room earlier. You want him to understand, to notice. It would be easier to just have to say "You're absolutely right!" than having to explain why you are so weird. You are weird because..."

"John? Will you go out of the cab?" Sherlock was standing on the pavement, waiting.

"Oh sorry..." John mumbles.

"Ah, Molly !" They were inside the morgue searching for the right corpse. The shy woman jumped when she heard the baritone call her name and almost melt on the floor when she met the tall man's eyes.

"Oh, Sherlock!" She pushed a lock of hair from her eyes and smiled anxiously.

"Molly, I'm glad to see you." The detective crooned and the woman giggled. John made a face, god that was ridiculous, that woman was so pathetic. That was what Sherlock did to people, make them hate him or make them...giggle stupidly. Poor Molly.

Poor me.

When John came back to reality, Sherlock was silently watching him again. Molly was gone.

"You shouldn't use that poor girl like that."

"What?"

"You know what I mean, that's mean and heartless. You can't play with people's feelings."

Sherlock frowned but didn't reply.

I am acting weird. I am frustrated. I am aggressive. I am lost. I am attracted to Sherlock. I am fucked, fucked, fucked.

So what now? Hey? What do I do? Try to go back to normal and pretend I, well, argued with Sarah, and was crossed. Maybe I won't have to justify myself. Maybe? Come on John, you don't have to justify yourself. Now stop it!

Sherlock was observing the skin of the corpse's arm, bending over the grey flesh, absolutely gorgeous...No not gorgeous, he is observing a dead person for god's sake!

"I need some air." John said before rushing out of the room and building.

John came back to 221B, and sat on the couch. Hiding in his room was childish so he stayed there, after an hour of torturing himself thinking of what would Sherlock's reaction be when he'd come back, he turned on the TV. Finally, he fell asleep.

"John?" He felt a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes "You should go to your room, you're not comfortable here." Sherlock was whispering.

John stirred and got up, he climbed the stairs in silence, entered his room and fell on the bed. Hopefully he didn't woke up enough to think about the event of the last days or he wouldn't have slept again.

… …. …

Oh the corpse!

Overdose of painkiller. The man just had an appointment with his dentist and was in so much pain he took too much painkillers. Mundane, boring...especially when you know that the dentist was a fake one with no diploma operating without sterilizing his scalpels (he was also left handed, divorced and his favourite flowers were red roses) As I said boring...