It had been almost a month since that night Sherlock had come in for tea - and that was all he got that night - and Jim had seen a lot more of Sherlock since (even though he saw him often beforehand). Jim wasn't too sure what they were. He supposes they were 'fooling around' or whatever people called it now.
Many of their evenings pasted in cuddles and kisses on Jim's sofa, watching some of Jim's favourite movies. Or if not a movie, Jim would be on his computer with Sherlock's arms around him. He didn't mind so much that Sherlock was reading over his shoulder and Jim just found the little grunts Sherlock made when Jim flirted with Don absolutely adorable.
If others saw them, they'd assume they were a couple. Maybe they were a couple. Jim wasn't sure. Surely, to be a couple there needs to be some kind of discussion about what you are, right?
Dating was probably what Jim would categorise it as. Not friends but not quite in a relationship. Just having fun. Not that they'd... gone to bed together yet. And yes, Jim was sure that sentence required the 'yet'. Jim wouldn't sleep with Sherlock until he was sure what this was, that it was serious. He wanted it to be serious.
Even though he wasn't sure what the situation was, Jim was happy.
Well. At this exact moment he wasn't happy, he was the completely opposite of happy right now. But in terms of their relationship, Jim was happy.
Anyway, the reason Jim was currently so unhappy - devastated, distraught, terrified, depressed, grim - was simple. It was also the same reason his flat currently looked like World War Three had began and the first bomb had hit here.
He couldn't find his laptop.
Jim hadn't been this close to crying since his grandma died. In fact, he might even be closer to crying now than he was at her funeral and as terrible as Jim feels about that, he's too worried about his laptop to care.
Looking around his flat, Jim feels his eyes water again. He feels like bawling. That laptop was his best friend - sorry Sebastian - and now it was gone. He can't understand it. One minute he was standing in a sparkling flat (Sherlock was due to arrive any minute now) and the next he was reaching for his laptop to check his emails... only to find that his beloved machine wasn't sat on his desk like it usually was.
Now caring that his kinda-sorta-boyfriend was about to turn up, Jim slumps and falls to his knees in the middle of his living room. He looks around, praying to see that familiar shine. When he doesn't, he can't stop it, tears begin to leak out of his eyes despite the will power he was using to try and keep them in.
"Oh, God... Where is it?" Jim mumbles to himself.
There's a knock at the door then and Jim barely has the strength to lift himself up and wipe his eyes before shuffling over to open the door. Sherlock has a large grin on his face but it falls the second he sees the look of utter misery on Jim's face.
Sherlock moves into the flat and closes the door. Then he puts both hands on Jim's shoulders and looks him dead in the eye. Sherlock does this a lot when Jim seems moody. It was so Jim couldn't escape when Sherlock asks if he's okay.
"James, what's the matter?"
Jim doesn't say a word and he just falls forward, into Sherlock's arms and chest. Sherlock seems hesitant but still holds Jim close and shushes him. Jim whimpers lightly and clutches Sherlock's jacket, fighting the urge to start bawling.
He was a grown man, for Christ's sake, he should no be crying over a lost laptop.
"Tell me what's wrong?" Sherlock says, voice soft as he pets Jim's hair.
"I..." Jim sniffles, snuggling closer. "I lost it.. Oh my God, how the fuck did I lose it? I'm so stupid..."
Sherlock stays quiet for a moment and Jim almost lifts his head to see if Sherlock had deduced what he lost and thought he was a total baby for crying over it when Sherlock speaks.
"Is that why your flat looks like a mess? What have you lost? Must be important."
Jim's about to reply 'I lost my baby' when he remembers that only Molly and Sebastian are aware Jim calls his laptop his baby. Sebastian, when he found out, had simply rolled his eyes whereas Molly had looked so shocked to hear that Jim honestly loved this machine so much he called it 'baby'.
"My laptop..." Jim finally looks up at Sherlock.
He wanted to see if Sherlock thought he was a completely weirdo for getting so upset about this. To his surprise, Sherlock had a small amused smile on his face. Jim doesn't know what he wants more: to slap Sherlock for being amused by thus or to hug him for not thinking he's a complete loon.
"Really? You're nearly crying because of a laptop?" Sherlock laughs.
Jim shoves Sherlock back with all the force he can muster before turning and stalking back to his bedroom to search for his laptop again. He can still hear Sherlock laughing in the background and he hates the way that hurts.
Even Sherlock didn't seem to understand...
Not expecting or wanting help from the stupid detective, Jim falls to the floor and starts to pull boxes from under his bed. It's the one place he hasn't looked - excluding the airing cupboard that was too high for him to reach - because he hadn't so much as glanced at a thing under here for almost a year.
Before long, Jim had pulled every single thing from under his bed and laid it out over the floor. About half through, Sherlock had brought Jim tea and tried to apologise but Jim had ignored him and continued as though no one was in the flat but himself (he did drink the tea when Sherlock went back to the living room, though).
The laptop - his beautiful brilliant baby - wasn't under the bed.
Jim stands up and heads back into his living room. Sherlock stands and looks at him.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh." Sherlock was practically pleading with him. Begging for forgive. Through his tone anyway. He sounded broken.
Jim continues to ignore him and simply grabs his desk chair. If he wasn't so stubborn, he'd ask Sherlock to climb on the little stool and look in the airing cupboard but he was stubborn so now he was going to risk breaking his neck while standing on a spiny chair.
Sherlock follows him into the hallway and frowns when he sees Jim pushing the chair below the airing cupboard.
"You'll hurt yourself. Let me do it."
Still ignoring Sherlock, Jim climbs onto the chair on his knees. Swallowing, Jim takes hold of the both armrests and slowly starts to stand up. Even though Jim wasn't terribly shorter than Sherlock, the stool that Sherlock would be able to use to see into the airing cupboard only allowing Jim a peek into the cupboard.
The chair wobbles, threatening to spin fully whole Jim tries to keep himself balanced. If it does, Jim decides, he's going to jump and make sure he lands on Sherlock.
Jim looks up then and opens one of the airing cupboards doors. He holds onto the edge where the wall ended and the door would begin had Jim not moved it. That helps keep his balance.
"James.." Sherlock trails off.
"Shut up, Sherlock" Jim spits the words because yes, he was upset about his laptop and angry at Sherlock for laughing at him and for fuck sake it was hard enough to balance on a spiny chair without Sherlock in the background sounding like an old granny that was scared of letting her twenty year old grandson handle paper scissors.
Jim pushes on his tiptoes so he can see better. It's unlikely his laptop is here anyway. But he had to -
"What the fuck?!" Jim shouts the words when he sees what sat in the airing cupboard.
His laptop (unharmed, thankfully) with a sticky note on it. A green sticky note. Exactly like that one he found on his shiny new computers at Bart's all that time ago.
Within a second, Jim turns to glare at Sherlock but the man was gone. Not caring if he fell or hurt himself, Jim quickly jumps off the spiny chair and heads into the living room. He picks up the TV remote as he passes the table. The kettle is bubbling in the background and Jim heads towards the kitchen to see Sherlock making tea.
"Is that your idea of a joke?" Jim asks, tone revealing little.
Sherlock turns and he has a huge fucking shit-eating grin on his face. Jim doesn't hesitate, he brings his arm back and launches the TV remote straight at Sherlock's stupid big head. The detective flinches and hisses in pain, gripping his forehead. Jim has a flash of guilt before the anger came flooded back.
"I swear to God, Sherlock. If you ever mess with any of my computers or even touch my baby again, I will make sure that no one finds your body after I brutally murder you." Jim had never been so serious.
Sherlock looks confused and Jim sighs because he knows that nobody ever gets it.
"Oh" Jim says "and because of this, you're taking me to that funfair again tomorrow and you're going to be the best god damn date of my life to make up for this."
Sherlock nods, still looking confused.
Jim turns and heads again into the other room to fetch his laptop and spend the rest of the evening ignoring Sherlock and flirting with Don just to piss him off.
Half an hour later, Sherlock sits on the sofa beside Jim. He puts an arm around Jim's shoulders and pulls him a little closer. Jim doesn't resist but he still ignores Sherlock, typing a message to Don that had too many x's and o's for Sherlock's liking.
"Jim, I'm sorry..." He sounded ten times more apologetic than he did earlier.
"Shut up."
"Okay," Sherlock nods, seeming happy that he at least got a response.
A few hours later, Sherlock gets up and leaves the flat without a word. Jim looks at the door after it closes, feeling stupid for how horrid he acted towards Sherlock - who was clearly very sorry.
Jim signs off his laptop and sits for a while, contemplating what to do.
In the end, he texts Sherlock.
'Sorry for being a bitch xx'
'Don't be. I should have realised you wouldn't find it funny x'
Jim smiles. Sherlock rarely used kisses.
'So... funfair tomorrow? xx'
'Of course. I'll pick you up around midday x'
'Great, I'll see you tomorrow. Night xx'
'Goodnight, James xx'
Jim sighs in contentment, glad that they'd patched things up a bit. He'd make sure for certain tomorrow that they were okay and even though he'd told Sherlock it was a way for him to apologise, Jim would apologise too.
Allowing himself a small smile, Jim heads to bed.
The next day, they went to the funfair again just as they said they would, fully exploring the one section they hadn't got to before. It was a great evening and made up for the heartache Sherlock put Jim through.
There had also been a few very steamy kisses at the top of the Ferris Wheel and Sherlock had even won Jim a large blue teddy bear on the shooting game/booth. The bear now sat on a chair - yep, it was so big it needed a chair - in the corner of Jim's bedroom.
Sherlock had stayed over at Jim's flat for the first time that night and Jim made him sleep on the sofa - which made Sherlock give a vulgar comment about Sebastian sleeping in Jim's bed which made Jim throw the remote control at him again.