-An-
I apologise in advance for any typos I wrote this chapter on my phone as inspiration hit at 11pm and i'm in bed.
Also I have decided to make an Instagram under i.am.trying.my.best.02 . It'll just be a fan account of John like Sherlock and Good Omens and whatever else I'm into. I also plan on using as a place to rant and be myself without the fear of people I know irl judging me.
Sorry for the long AN it was just stuff u needed to say
-An-
John didn't know what to say, he upset the detective that's for sure, but how? He had just got wound up and lashed out about his past. John couldn't understand how he had caused such an emotionless man to become so emotional and all just because of a few words. To tell the truth, John didn't want to lose Sherlock, he had become fond of the man's company but this realisation has shocked John more than anything.
With his blood boiling Sherlock storms out the flat, leaving a very surprised Mrs Hudson in his wake. He couldn't believe John had the nerve to act like he had it tough as a kid. The torture and torment Sherlock had to face was nothing compared to John's hurt feelings over some stupid soulmate. But he was John's soulmate, and that scared him. It caused fear that Sherlock had never once encountered. He had faced death in the eyes and laughed but at the slight notion of a soulmate he was ready to run and hide. He knew John had started to change him for the better, allowing him to open up more but this was different. John had upset Sherlock, acting like some name calling was the be all and end all of his life. Sherlock had believed for so long that sentiment was a defect, a hindrance but at the same time John had made him a better man.
The silence of the flat tormented John as he sat and ran through the conversation over and over again trying to figure out what struck Sherlock's nerve. Then he realised, he remembered all the times Donovan had called him 'freak', the way people looked at him in the streets. It was then that John realised that Sherlock had never been considered normal his whole life and it had nothing to do with writing on his arms. The realisation dawned on him, and he couldn't help to feel guilt as the pieces fit into place. John wishes he could run to Sherlock and apologise, but there was no use in locating the detective once he hits the streets of London