John couldn't remember ever being so desperate. It had been almost a week since 'The Incident', and Sherlock still hadn't gone back to normal. Sure, those who only vaguely knew him might say that he seemed fine, but John, who knew Sherlock better than any other person, saw the sad, small smile he gave when John complemented him, heard the way he tread carefully around the flat. Around John. He couldn't bear it any longer. 

Sherlock was due back from Scotland Yard anytime now. John made a plan; he would ambush Sherlock as soon as he entered the flat, and demand an explanation for his behavior. 

John groaned exasperatedly. This sounded too much like a battle plan. This wasn't war, it was Sherlock. He sank down onto the couch defeatedly 

John was almost considering hiding away in his room before Sherlock got home, but just then the door opened, and there was Sherlock. He was wet and disheveled, and he had a victorious expression on his face. Clearly he had solved his latest case. As soon as he made eye contact with John, the victory melted away, and he suddenly looked hopeless. John opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock interrupted before he could say a word.

"It was a simple case. Even Lestrade and his half-wit officers could have solved it."

John, as ever, was amazed at the casual way in which Sherlock correctly interpreted his thoughts. But as he gave a small, instinctive smile, another thought came to him.

"Why didn't you ask me to come with you?"

Sherlock looked confused. 

"On the case?"

John suddenly felt childish. Sherlock didn't have to take him along on all his cases. He didn't even usually give any input. So why did this seem so significant? John replied quietly:

"Yeah. You usually ask me to come with you."

Sherlock smiled sadly.

"I expected you to wish to remain as far from me as possible. Past experience...showed me that to be true for most people."

John started.

"Hang on, past experience?"

"Yes."

"A relationship?"

"Yes"

"More than once?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It was a mistake made in my youth. However, it served a purpose. I now know the difference between curiosity and..."

John held his breath. Sherlock looked down at his shoes. He finished his sentence in a tone barely above a whisper.

"Love."