Hours after walking away from Sherlock, John woke up from the nightmares. The bombs and screams in his dreams were replaced by soft violin music from downstairs. The music seemed familiar, but it seemed to change before he could really focus his mind on it. Instead he heard a piece that Sherlock played often when he was thinking. John's throat ached so he had probably been shouting. He assumed it had been loud because whenever he woke up and heard violin music, he knew Sherlock had heard him shouting. When he woke up from nightmares without a sore throat, there was no music.
"My own science of deduction," he muttered as he rolled over and almost fell as he got out of bed. His heart and his head were pounding. He needed some tea. Tea would remind him he was in England. Tea would force him to forget the dream of men dying all around him. John made his way downstairs and found Sherlock in the front window. Moonlight was the only light that illuminated the man standing there. A pencil was in one hand and the violin in the other. John started to make tea. He was moving slowly trying not to aggravate his head too much. His heart was finally slowing down.
"Are you going to leave John?" Sherlock asked suddenly. John was taken aback.
"Just making tea Sherlock, I'll be gone in a minute." He mumbled annoyed. He heard Sherlock set the violin down and crossed the flat to come stand behind him.
"No, John, you misunderstand. Are you going to leave me, the flat? Sherlock asked. John was confused.
"No," He continued to make his tea with his back still to Sherlock.
"But you were angry, and you are still angry." Sherlock said.
"That doesn't mean I'm going to leave."
"You left the crime scene." Sherlock pointed out.
"Yea, Sherlock, but that was a crime scene. Here, at the flat, we have an agreement. I'm not just going to walk out of our flat." John turned around wondering why Sherlock was so worried.
"We have an agreement about crime scenes. It isn't written, but we both have taken it seriously. You do the medical and I do the deductions."
"And acknowledgement that you didn't already know what comes out of my mouth never happens." John muttered. Sherlock heard him, but continued with his train of thought.
"John you claim that you are not going to simply walk out of the flat. You do that every day just walking out without a care. Tonight, you didn't say anything either! You just left. I thought…" Sherlock trailed off again.
"I didn't know where you were! And you don't pay attention when you walk around London. Anyone could have taken you!" Sherlock exclaimed. The words poured out of his mouth before he could stop them. John was obviously startled by these cracks in the armor, and how paranoid Sherlock was about him being kidnapped. He took a step back from his flatmate.
"You don't need to worry so much and you don't always know where I am!" John objected, but Sherlock just raised an eyebrow at him and took a deep breath. Sherlock moved farther into the kitchen. He put both hands on the back of a chair as he leaned over it. He closed his eyes collecting all the information he had gathered about John, his habits and his whereabouts. When he spoke, it was quickly and his voice was low instead of his typical manic, excited demeanor when he was observing.
"It takes you 12.6 minutes to walk home from the clinic, but you normally leave between 5 and 7 minutes after your shift ends because you catch up with your co-workers or finish reports. You go to the store three times a week on average and usually spend an additional 15.2 minutes there, sometimes up to 20 minutes because you have trouble at the checkout. This adds 3.5 minutes to your walk. You work at the clinic 4 days a week and on your day off you usually go to the pub in evening with Mike. You typically spend 4 hours there and come home after a few drinks. You are rarely drunk. Mike always drinks more than you and you often ride home with him in the cab. It take 20 minutes to get to the pub if you take Mike home it takes an extra 10 minutes for you to get home. I don't have to explain your whereabouts when we are at the flat, working cases or when we are together working for the Yard." When Sherlock finished he looked over at John. John's mouth was hanging open and Sherlock quickly added, "I have to keep tabs on you if I'm going to know if you get kidnapped or not."
"Just so we are clear, in general are you worried or are you concerned about a specific kidnapper?" John asked. Sherlock's head snapped around. His blue eyes pierced John.
"All of them!" he threw his hands up in the air.
"Except you weren't worried about it at all tonight when I got grabbed." John scoffed breaking their eye contact.
"I am always worried about you John. I just have no desire for everyone to know that I'm concerned." Sherlock explained. He added because it keeps you safer in his mind. John simply stared at him.
"You. The man who scoffs at sentiment and sets up when I'm going to be kidnapped, You, worry about me?" John rolled his eyes. "Sherlock I know you are trying to make up for our fight tonight, but your attempts at patching things up usually are a means to an end."
Sherlock couldn't believe what he was wearing. Even so he didn't know how angry and frustrated his friend was because of his behavior. John was sure that Sherlock couldn't actually be concerned about him. It wasn't like Sherlock pestered John to eat and clean up dangerous experiments and sleep on a regular basis like John did for Sherlock. John turned to finish making his tea.
"You just aren't going to believe me. You refuse to believe anything I say?" Sherlock was still staring at John.
"It's not that I don't believe you care Sherlock, but I've learned you normal have a reason behind these type of reactions. I'm just waiting to find out what it is this time." John picked up his tea. He turned to look at Sherlock again.
"Every day we chase murders around London…and I need to have a reason to be concerned about you? When we work with dangerous criminals?" Sherlock turned his head and scrunched his eyebrows together.
"You usually do have a reason. What case are you working on? Are you going to slip something into my coffee again?" John smirked and sipped his tea. Sherlock was furious that John wasn't taking this seriously. He turned away from John and picked up the violin. He began playing it much more harshly than before. John left the kitchen and headed back to bed with his tea in hand.
After their fight, John slept soundly. He was dead to the world. The sounds of London and the memories of war, for once, did not disturb his sleep.
He didn't hear Sherlock leave the flat in the middle of the night and slam the door in frustration. He didn't hear someone pick the lock to their flat or two men move up the stairs. John felt the needle stick into his arm, but when he opened his eyes they instantly felt heavy again. He tried to fight, but his limbs were too heavy. His body was picked up and taken out into the car that was waiting on the street.
As he slipped into unconsciousness, John thought maybe Sherlock had been right to be worried. Two kidnappings in one evening certainly was too much.
A/N: Input is always appreciated! Next chapter soon!