Hi! Sorry it's even shorter, it's been a while and I don't want to give this story up!
About three minutes later, inside the cab, Sherlock begins to worry. John's been repeatedly pulling down on the end of his jumper ever since they sat down. Is he hiding something physical? Mental?
John says Sherlocks name, and looks to his left, staring straight into Sherlocks eyes. That's when the consulting detective notices it. Notices them. Johns pupils are blown. Something inside him says that it's just his imagination, or that maybe Johns eyes are normally like that. But pupils don't normally enlarge like that. Not even in the dark.
"Sherlock, what's wrong?.. Is the case a single murder? Two murders? Three murders? Four?!" John jumps with each advance of his sentence, each part sounding even more exciting and loud. His eyes glitter, and he pulls down on his jumper once more. Sherlock just stares in an odd fashion. Was John high? Somehow, Sherlock doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to face that probability. He doesn't want that.. pain.
It will hurt him. It will hurt him really bad, if John had in fact taken a drug. He has been through drugs and addiction, and he does not want John to have to go through all the same issues. Sherlock cares. For John, he cares for John. This is why he has to know.
"John, are you- "
"Okay? Excited? Smart? Good? Surprised? I'm great, thanks for asking. I know that I'm important to you, it's great. Sometimes, I think you want me. Do you want me, Sherlock? I know you do. I want you too. All of you. I would kiss your-"
"Stop this! Stop this now!" Sherlock yells, his heart pounding his chest strongly. Not this. Not like this. What the hell is going on today? The cabbie freaks out, and hits the breaks of the car harshly.
"John, let's go." Sherlock commands, and hands the driver the money. Sherlock pulls John by the wrist abruptly, and gets him out of the cab.
Sherlock doesn't text Lestrade, he calls him, tells him that he and John cannot make it to the crime scene. Lestrade gets pissed. The case would have to wait. Sherlock was not about to let this go.
"Sherlock, what the bloody hell are you doing? We were suppose to have fun! The case, remember? The murders? Sherlock, please, lets go. Please." John begs, pulling down on his jumper once more. Sherlock simply stares at Johns dilated pupils. He stares at Johns shaky hands. John scratches his face.
The next couple of things happen very quickly.
Sherlock grabs John by the shoulders, and pushes him back towards an alley. He smacks him against the wall, and holds him back. John gasps, and pushes him off, only making Sherlock hold him harder against the wall. Sherlock grabs the doctors wrist with one hand, feeling for his pulse. Rapid. Insanely rapid.
"John" he says, rather calmly for the current scenario.
In that moment, John kicks his knee into Sherlocks stomach, causing the other man to stumble back. John grabs Sherlock, and pins him on the ground roughly. Sherlock struggles against Johns harsh grip on his wrists.
"What are you doing, Sherlock? What's going on? You're angry. Someone has upset you a great amount." John says, directly on top of Sherlock.
"John" Sherlock warns, and pushes at Johns chest with force, trying to get up from the dirty concrete. He fails.
"Sherlock, come on! Don't be such an ass. Serious!" John whines, and pushes harder on Sherlocks wrists.
"John you're hurting me."
"Sherlock, listen. Listen.. Listen, Sherlock.. Li-" John repeats the same words over and over, until Sherlock pushes up forcefully and gives him a serious look.
It's not the time for playing, it almost never was, especially not now. This was way out of control. Something that Sherlock truly did not like.
"What have you taken, John?" He questions. John looks puzzled for a few seconds, and all of a sudden, he wears a face of understanding.