Sherlock had locked himself in his flat after his fight with John. It had been three days and Sherlock hadn't seen anyone. Mrs. Hudson had tried to speak with Sherlock, asking him to open the door so he could have some tea and biscuits. Sherlock's mind tuned her out, yet his stomach still rumbled at the mention of food. He didn't need food, he told himself, he needed John's forgiveness.
Finally, Mrs. Hudson unlocked the door herself, "Sherlock, come on and eat something de--" She looked up and stopped midsentence. The sight of Sherlock worried her even more. He was laying on the couch in his blue robe, eyes open, hair everywhere, pale faced, and with his laptop fallen on the floor. "Sherlock, dear, come on. You look just terrible. Here, I'll call John and--"
"YOU WILL NOT CALL JOHN" Sherlock jumped up as his voice rattled through the apartment. Mrs. Hudson took a step back, almost spilling the tray of tea and buscuits she was carrying. Sherlock looked at her and to a breath to calm himself down, "I'm sorry. Please don't call John."
"Well you need someone. How about Mycroft?"
Sherlock took another breath and shook his head, "No. No. Don't call him either. I just need to work on the case." He went over to his laptop and sat back down, and began furiously typing.
"You need to eat. Here, I'll leave this for you." Mrs. Hudson was gentle, knowing that Sherlock was in a bad place again.
She slid the tray onto the table, but Sherlock put his feet up, "Not hungry." He said matter-of-factly.
"Oh, for goodness sake, just take the food, Sherlock." She quickly put the tray on the other side of Sherlock's feet. "Don't break my teacups." She ordered, seeing that Sherlock was about to push the tray off of the table.
Sherlock breathed heavily in defeat as Mrs. Hudson turned to leave. Barely after the door closed, Sherlock threw the computer off of his lap and guiltily reached for the buscuits. The warm sensation immediatley filled the empty pit of his stomach.
Staring at the wall, he thought about what Mrs. Hudson had said. And she was right: he did need someone. But not just anyone. He needed John. But would John every forgive him? Sherlock had decided to give John some time, but how much time was long enough? This is why Sherlock doesn't involve himself with people, why he doesn't have... Friends.
But John... He had been different. Or at least, that's what Sherlock thought. When he first saw John, he was just another person. But once they began to talk, Sherlock realized how special John was. John accepted Sherlock, even liked him. Became his only friend.
As Sherlock slumped on the couch, deep in his mind palace, Mrs. Hudson was right outside, listening as Sherlock unknowingly mumbled John's name. Finally, she had had enough.
As quietly as she could, she went downstairs and called John.
"Hello," He answered after two rings.
"Oh, John. I was worried you wouldn't answer... but Sherlock-"
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson, but I don't want to hear about him." John monotonously started, then his volume increased as he began to vent. "I understand that he thought it would be a good ideas, but sometimes... He's just so bloddy inconsiderate! If he's such a genius, why can't he figure out people? I don't know if I can handle him anymore."
Mrs. Hudson was quiet for a second, then replied, "John, I completely agree, but Sherlock... He can't understand the complexity of people. And honestly, if you want to find Mary, then I suggest that you and Sherlock work together."
John looked at the ceiling of his room, wondering happened to his wife and his newborn with tears in his eyes. "Alright. I'll think about it."
John could hear the smile on Mrs. Hudsons face as she said, "Thank you, John."
John burst through the door to the flat, immediately yelling at Sherlock. "Come on Sherlock, we have a case to solve."
Sherlock sat up and looked at John for a minute. After an awkward silence, he stood up and wrapped his arms around John, "I--I didn't know if you'd come back..."
John had a smirk on his face. "I always will."
John lifted his arms up, but Sherlock stood there for a moment longer before releasing his friend. Sherlock looked down with a small blush creeping up to his face. John ignored him and grabbed his wrist, ready to find his wife.
They rushed downstairs and hailed a cab to Scottland Yard. Sherlock held the door open for John and closed it. Then he went around to the other side and got in, not once taking his eyes off of John. However, he quickly looked away when John noticed Sherlock staring.