A Study in Resistance- A Johnlock Fanfic

Chapter One

Sherlock wandered in his mind palace, going through the old cases. Sifting through random facts, random papers that he had committed to his memory. Ugh, boring. Boring. Boring. BORING! Already went through ALL of this. His eyes flew open and he sat up on the couch.

There's no cases, why is there no cases, there is always cases! He thought to himself. His eyes darted to the desk drawer where he kept his gun, no I've already shot at the wall, he thought tiredly. Sherlock looked quickly at the skull on the mantel, under which he kept his 'secret supply'. No too far away, don't want to get up. He lay back down on the couch, his feet dangling over the side, his hands in the usual steeple position and closed his eyes again. The face of Moriarty greeted him everywhere inside his eyelids.

"Did you miss me? Did you miss me?" Those words had been on every screen in England accompanied by the face of Sherlock's nemesis. But was Moriarty truly back? He had shot himself in the mouth, right in front of Sherlock. Sherlock could see it now. As long as I'm alive you can save your friends... Well good luck with that. Then BANG!

She-erlock. She-erlock, Moriarty's voice said in his mind, it slowly changed to Janine's Sherlock! He missed her, not that he would ever admit that to anyone. He had grown to enjoy her company. Sherlock, Sherlock. It changed to Mary's: You don't tell him, you don't tell John. Damn mind palace. The name continued to repeat. But it was changing again. Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock! SHERLOCK!

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Sherlock sat up again. Putting his hands on his temples he started rubbing them. Closing his eyes.

Sherlock.

"Shut up!"

Sherlock.

"Shut u-up!"

"Sherlock!" Sherlock opened his eyes and took his hands off his face.

"John!" His hair was wet and his jacket had beaded water rolling slowly off of it. It must be raining. He ruffled his hair lay back down, closing his eyes and putting his hands back in the steeple position.

"Are you...erm busy?" John said looking over the mess that Sherlock had made of 221b Baker Street.

"What?" Sherlock opened his eyes "Oh, no," he got up again and walked to the table with his computer, stepping on the coffee table on the way. His blue dressing gown was hanging off of one shoulder and it was, of course, untied. Sherlock sat down by his computer and started typing, checking his email and website for cases, still none.

"No! There's no cases! Last week cases were pouring in and now nothing!" he threw his phone with the inbox of his email open on it. John caught it and furrowing his brow seeing that there were no new emails besides one from-

"Sherlock you have Facebook...?" Sherlock looked up from his computer.

"Under my name- seriously Sherlock?" Sherlock looked back down at his computer. He waved his hand dismissivly.

"Fans," he said as if the explained everything. John raised his eyebrows and set Sherlock's phone down on the coffee table, avioding the mess of papers. John looked at the couch, it seemed reletivly clear so he sat on it noticing that his chair was gone again.

"What about fans?"

Sherlock got up and stood in front of John on the couch, the coffee table still between them, "Why are you here?"

"Just checking up on you. Last time I left you alone with yourself for this long I found you high as a kite in a crack den, remember?"

"It was for a case John, I was undercover!" Sherlock protested, stepping on the coffee table, planning to sit on the couch next to John (his chair smelled funny), but he tripped on some of the rubbish he had covered it with. He fell, almost face planting into John, but he caught himself . One of his knees had landed on the couch, his other foot was resting on the ground, on the other side of John, propping him up. Sherlock's hands were on either side of John's head which brought Sherlock's face just inches from Johns.