Still Human

John was used to Sherlock locking himself in his room a lot, usually working on a case or working on an experiment, but this was getting ridiculous. Usually he'd come out randomly to get a small bit of food or tea or get something to use on whatever it was he was doing, but now he just stayed locked in his room for hours on end without leaving. The last case they had was over three days ago and John was getting worried, without a case Sherlock usually put his mind onto other things and those usually meant he was breaking things or thinking about breaking things. Something was very wrong. So, John decided to ask about it.

"Hey, Sherlock," said John while making morning tea, Sherlock having just come back from the morgue. Sherlock grunted, not looking up from his phone as he scrolled. "What's with being locked in your room lately? I haven't seen you in three days." Sherlock didn't answer right away and John decided to wait until he was done with his phone, knowing he wouldn't answer until then. Sherlock grunted and put the phone in his jacket, looking up at John now. His eyes weren't completely focused and he looked a little dazed. John felt his stomach do a flip.

"Experiment," he responded and walked away to his room, shutting the door and locking it behind him. John stared at where Sherlock had once been standing, picturing Sherlock's unfocused and slightly tired expression, terror filling him. John took a deep breath and poured his tea, not sure how to go about making sure Sherlock didn't have any drugs in his room. He sat in his chair and sipped his tea, thinking it all over. Had Sherlock really relapsed? John shook off the thought and decided that Sherlock hadn't, there was no way. He sighed and sipped his tea.

AΩ

The next day John came home and stopped when he saw Sherlock pacing the flat, his nose in a book with an intense expression. John blinked and watched him silently, trying to get a look at the book in his hands. It was a dark maroon with black letters on it, a hard back book. John tilted his head and took a few steps into the flat, not sure what to think of this. Was it something about the experiment? Drugs? Something else? But what else could it be?

"Sherlock?"

"AH!" John lept back when Sherlock screamed, nearly dropping the milk he had in his right hand. Sherlock whirled around to face John with the book clutched to his chest, pages inward, and the two stared at each other silently, taking the shock in for a moment. "Yes?" John blinked and looked down at the book, then up at Sherlock, not sure what to say or how to phrase all the questions swirling around his head. Sherlock looked down at the book a moment. He cleared his throat and stopped clutching it, wiping off the pages carefully. "Captain Blood." Sherlock showed him the cover, which held the title on it in dark black on maroon.

"Oh," John said shortly, not sure what to think. He cleared his throat too and walked into the kitchen, setting the milk down on the counter. "Is that why you've been in your room?" Sherlock nodded in confirmation. John chuckled. "You don't have to hide it, Sherlock. Everybody loves books, even brilliant detectives. Why did you scream?" Sherlock snorted and John put his hands up. "Sorry, yell. Why did you yell?"

"I was at an intense part. It's quite good," Sherlock said, putting a bookmark between the pages before closing it. John put the milk in the fridge. Sherlock stared at the book in silence and John turned, keeping in his laughter.

"You can keep reading, I'm just going to be looking up some things," John told him as he went to grab his laptop. Sherlock didn't wait to open the book again and start pacing as he read, the look on his face again. John chuckled and turned his laptop on, glancing up at Sherlock as he muttered something about the book. Sometimes John liked those little reminders that Sherlock was human.