Addicted to you (Johnlock fanfiction)

Chapter seven

As Sherlock made his way across London it began to rain. He pulled his coat collar up further around his face and began to jog. The cool rain hitting his skin stung making his grit his teeth and run faster. John. John. John. John. John. All he could ever think was John.

John was adamant that he wasn't gay; even if he did share Sherlock's feelings he'd never admit it, he'd be too afraid of what everyone else will think. If John knew he fancied him, Sherlock would imagine that John would run a mile.

Fancy?

What a stupid word that was. It was more then fancy. Sherlock loved him. Another stupid word. Love. What did it really mean? He knew how it felt. Good and bad at the same time. It hurt like hell and made you want to scream your throat raw but it was also sweet and gentle, making you smile and brightening your day. John. John. John. John. John. All a Sherlock could ever think about was John!

He couldn't concentrate on his work as of late, because all he could think of is that John is standing right beside him, ready for anything, ready to tell him he's brilliant and amazing and follow him wherever Sherlock dared take him. He couldn't concentrate at home. All he could think was how adorable John was in those hideous jumpers and the cute habits he has like licking his lips or the silly way he types on his laptop. Sherlock just couldn't concentrate anywhere he went. Every waking thought was spent on John and every dream he dreamt was of John. John. John. John. John. John!

Sherlock let out a frustrated yell, earning concerned looks from people nearby but they pretended to ignore him, thankfully. Why had he let John do this to him. He was supposed to be a bloody sociopath and now he was in love with the worlds cutest blogger/army doctor.

The thought made Sherlock stop dead in his tracks. John wouldn't want him to do this. To go back to drugs. He will be mad, he'll yell, he'll try to baby Sherlock and hand feed him, keep an eye on him everywhere he went just to make sure we wasn't using fucking drugs. Sherlock didn't want to disappoint John. But he no longer cared. So he kept running down the road to get his next fix.

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Once Sherlock reached the run down house in the abandoned neighbourhood he was looking for, he quickly ran to the patio seeking shelter from the rain. He rapped on the door loudly and waited. A young scraggy looking boy answered the door, he would be no older then 17, his parents kicked him out of home, he was suicidal but couldn't kill himself so he used drugs as an alternative; to numb then pain, Sherlock deduced.

In a way Sherlock knew how he felt.

"Is Deke around?" Sherlock asked looking past the boys shoulder to peek inside.

"Who are you?" The boy snapped.

"None of your business. Is Deke here?" Sherlock sassed back, pulling his coat tighter around himself beginning to shiver.

"What's your name, I'll tell him you're here." He said with a poisonous spike.

"Shezza." Sherlock said reluctantly rolling his eyes. He hated that code name, but it was what these people knew him as. The boy snickered to himself making Sherlock growl.

"I'll be back. Stay right where you are." He slammed the door and Sherlock heard his footsteps fade away quickly under the sound of the heavy rain. Sherlock sighed and leaned against the door frame. It wasn't too late, he could still turn back; John would want him too.

Since when had I let John control my life, I'm a grown man I can make my own decisions, Sherlock though to himself with a growl.

Sherlock heard a set of footsteps making their way to the door and he straightened himself to look as tall as he possibly could. Suddenly he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to face Deke again. He wanted to run, hide, never come back. He'd forgotten about this. About Deke. And he didn't want to remember.