There's nothing left for it. Sherlock thought mournfully, staring at the half-melted, half-burned cloth that was once John's favorite oatmeal jumper. This is it. This is the final straw, as it were. He specifically told me not to experiment on his clothing, and this is his favorite. How long until he gets home? Sherlock looked to the clock-15 minutes.
Damn. Not enough time to place it then. What if he leaves? That's what he threatened if I ever destroyed another one of his possessions. Said that even though I'm made of cash doesn't mean that he is and he doesn't make enough to replace everything I destroy. What is he means it?
This is the worst time to get sentimental, Sherlock...THINK.
You coped without John quite well for a long time. If he leaves it won't be the end of the you.
Sherlock thought back to all the times that John had saved his life in the time that he knew him.
The first day, you remember, Sherlock? The first day you and John met he shot and killed that cabbie for you. To save you.
Tackled that Chinese ninja for you.
Held back Moriarty so that I could have run - risking his life and freedom for you.
He makes sure you eat, when was the last time you passed out from malnourishment?
He keeps you from getting bored, well, keeps you far enough away from boredom that you are able to resist the temptation of past addictions. Doesn't yell too much anymore when I wake him at three in the morning with my violin. I enjoy his company in the early morning with just me and my violin, and now him.
Makes sure I'm out of my jacket and shoes and have a blanket when I inevitably pass out from exhaustion after a case, no matter how tired he is.
He joins you on cases, asks the right questions and doesn't call you Freak. Says 'brilliant' and 'fantastic' instead. And he cares. He cares so much about people - yet still willing to kill them for me.
What does that say about him? I'm sure Mycroft would ask me, would I speak to him about this.
John Watson is truly a phenomenon, I would answer. And I would not last very long without him.
I wouldn't last at all. And because of this...Sherlock started at the remains and bits of cloth, because of this he's going to leave me and my life is going to fall apart.
Sherlock snapped out of his thoughts when he heard John open the front door and call out salutations to Mrs. Hudson. Panic filled him and in desperation to hide the remains of his friends shirt hopped up onto the table and sat on it.
John walked in, "Hello, Sher-what are you doing on our table?"
Sherlock shrugged and looked down, not being able to meet John's eyes.
John, at this point in his and Sherlock's...acquaintance, could read Sherlock pretty well. Let's see, he thought, not meeting my eyes, not speaking, shoulders hunched forward slightly, sharp awkward movement. He's sitting on the table - a common place for him to do his experiments-oh...
John sighed and went to put on the kettle-he had a feeling he would need tea. "What did you destroy this time then, Sherlock?" He asked, voice resigned.
Sherlock didn't answer. John sighed again and turned to face his petulant bestfriedflatematecrush(?), "Look, you're going to have to tell me sooner or later for you might as well tell me now."
Sherlock shifted and stood from the table, a pout quivering just behind his lips, and silently handed John the old jumper.
John took the cloth from him, identified it, and very visibly counted to ten inside his head, "Sherlock. I've told you, time and time again, not to-"
"-experiment with your clothing, I know." Sherlock cut in, "I regret the..." he gathered his thoughts, "...impulsive decision that lead me to do it."
John tossed the ruined piece of clothing into their trash, not saying anything. After a few minutes of awkward silence with both of them standing in the kitchen, not quite looking at each other or moving, the only sound coming from the whistling of the kettle when the water boiled Sherlock spoke. "Don't...leave, John, please. I'll buy you a new jumper."
John rubbed his forehead and turned the kettle off, "It's not just the jumper, Sherlock, it the whole idea behind it. The jumper, all of my clothes, well they're mine, Sherlock. And I asked you not to burn or pour acid or whatever on them. Not only did you wreck my property but you also ignored my requests."
Sherlock eyed him, "You're being particularly eloquent today, John."
"Don't change the subject." John snapped, pouring tea for them both and handing one to Sherlock, "Look, you asked me not to leave," here Sherlock nodded emphatically, "and I don't want to," Sherlock almost smiled, "but you have to promise that you're not going to do this again. If you ever need a jumper or a piece of clothing just ask me and we'll go to Oxfam or something, okay?"
"Very well, John." Sherlock said, smiling inside, John wasn't going to leave him. Of course he wasn't.