Sherlock sat up, a dizzy and lightheaded feeling mixing in his brain as he turned to look at where he was. A slight headache made it hard to think. He looked around the room, his eyes landing on John.

"John," Sherlock said quietly. "I told you not to bring me to a hospital."

John looked up at Sherlock, he had his head down against the bed. He had obvious signs of crying, "Sherlock..." he whispered, setting a hand over his friend's. "Sherlock you--"

"No, John. This is the third time you brought me to a hospital in one month."

"It's because you keep taking too many drugs. Calm down, Sherlock,"

"I do not take too many drugs, I am fine!" Sherlock pulled his hand away from John's

"You are not fine, Sherlock. You use far too many drugs and then you pass out--"

"No, John. Shut up. Just leave." Sherlock was pissed off. "I want you out of the flat when I get back."

John's heart shattered into a million pieces, "Sher--"

Sherlock steepled his fingers and laid back down on the bed. "Go, John."

He stood up, throwing a bunch of flowers on the floor as he stormed out of the room. Sherlock didn't notice the flowers and watched John leave.

When John returned home, he made a mess of the place. He flipped Sherlock's chair upside down and threw the papers everywhere. Mrs Hudson went upstairs to check if everything was okay at one point, but she just gasped and hurried back downstairs.

John took the extra can of spray paint they had to re-spray the smiley face if they needed it. He went to his room and wrote with big yellow letters 'I hate you, Sherlock Holmes.' He watched the paint drip for a moment before going into Sherlock's room and writing 'You can be a really horrible friend.' then he went back to the living room and put 'Bye.' on the wall. Then he looked at the smiley face and turned it into a frown. After that, John packed up and stormed out of the place.

About a week later, Sherlock was let go from the hospital. With a bouquet of now dead flowers in his hand, he took a cab and went back home, humming quietly and readying to greet John. That week alone in the hospital was very lonely and boring, Sherlock hoped to see his friend. When he got in the flat he didn't notice anything off. He thought maybe John came home and trashed the place. "John! I'm back," Sherlock said with a smile but he heard no voice return the welcome. He shrugged it off and said to himself John was in his bedroom sleeping.

It took about twenty minutes before Sherlock looked up and noticed the big 'Bye.' John had sprayed onto the wall. Then it just hit Sherlock, he had told John to move away. He didn't think John would take him seriously, he always said things he didn't mean.

Sherlock tossed the cup of tea he had made himself onto the ground and ran to John's room only to see the message. He freaked out a bit when he saw a lot of John's things were missing. He went to his room to make sure John wasn't hiding there.

His eyes widened when he saw the last message. Sherlock rushed back into the living room, quickly pulling on his coat. Then he took out his phone and with shaky hands, began to call John.

After about thirty calls, Sherlock started to panic. What if he would never see John again?

Mrs Hudson walked into the room. "John told me he was moving." She said, frowning at Sherlock. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing! Mrs Hudson close your mouth! I need to think!" Sherlock started pacing around the flat, kicking books and papers that were spread out over the floor as he went along. "Wait, no," Sherlock looked at Mrs Hudson just about when she was going to exit the room. "What direction was he going when he left?"

"He went left. Are you planning on finding him? John looked really angry at you."

"Yes, I can't live without him, Mrs Hudson. Go downstairs and do whatever you do." Sherlock started pacing again before he got on his laptop. He started looking for apartment buildings on the left side of London. He found a few and narrowed it down, looking for things John would enjoy in a place to stay for awhile.

Sherlock found the apartment and hailed a cabbie, telling him where to go in a hurry. At one point he was worrying so much that he kept telling the cabbie to go over speed limits so he could see his friend. Of course, the cabbie said no to that.

When the taxi parked, Sherlock jumped out of it and rushed inside the building. He bent down a bit so he would be the height of John and started walking. He went to the elevator and looked at all of the floors, clicking on that would be easiest for John to choose. He went up and then started walking through the hallways, stopping at one of the rooms. He was fairly confident in himself that this was John's room.

He looked at the floor, imprinted very faintly, was a the traces of a shoe. It was John's size so he confirmed his thought and lifted his leg up. Sherlock kicked through the door and it flung open. A small blond haired man that was on the couch squeaked and jumped, startled.

"John!" Sherlock said with a big smile.

"No!" John hid under the blankets he had on him. Sherlock walked in and sat down on the couch beside him.

"It's okay, John." Sherlock said, putting a hand on John's shoulder. "Why did you move?"

"Because you told me to, twit. Now get out of my apartment before I call 999 and tell them someone broke in."

"No, John. Aren't you going to move back?"

"It didn't seem like you even wanted me there anyways. You don't even appreciate what I do."

"I appreciate what you do, John. I just don't say so." Sherlock lifted the blankets off John and looked down at him. "Come back."

"I don't want to."

"John, you had obviously been crying. You look skinny, you probably barely even ate these last few days. Come on, I can bring you home and we can both go out to a restaurant."

"No, Sherlock." John mumbled, sighing sadly. "It's alright. I'm fine, really. I like it here. It's peaceful and I don't have anyone to annoy me."

"John, I am so sorry for what I do to you." Sherlock said, running a hand through John's hair. John pulled away, covering himself with the blanket. He didn't respond. "John, John please. I need you in my life."

"No you don't. I'm just another boring human."

"You are not! You matter to me, John. I have never felt this way about anyone else before. I swear John, you do matter to me."

"How much?" John asked, crossing his arms.

"You matter to me than anybody else, John..." Sherlock said, leaning over and connecting their lips. John blushed and was about to pull away, but was lured back in when he noticed how good it felt. John kissed Sherlock back, putting an arm around him. Sherlock wanted to deepen the kiss, but John didn't allow it. He didn't care though, it felt amazing anyways.