Sherlock Preferences (DISCONTINUED)

Sherlock:
It was all Sherlock's damn fault. He knew how the subject of family was for you considering that he'd first met you when they'd died but sometimes he didn't think before he spoke. Then again, when it came to people that's how Sherlock Holmes treated them. With no regard for their feelings.

You were lounging around in the flat with nothing to do. The house you'd been living in had been sold because you hadn't been comfortable with moving back there alone. Due to the recent events you were quite upset so had just taken to reading quietly and trying not to think too much.

And then Sherlock happened.

He walked into the lounge from his bedroom and flopped down on the sofa. Without a word he just stretched out his legs and draped them across your lap. It didn't bother you too much considering he was just in his Mind Palace. After another hour or so you decided that a walk might make you feel better.

You stretched out your arms and moved to stand up. Sherlock opened one eye and glared at you.
"What are you doing?" You let out a nervous chuckle in an attempt to relieve the sudden tension that had just been forced upon the two of you.
"I was gonna go for a walk so I'll need you to move your legs." He gave you a cold stare for about thirty seconds.
"No."

Sighing in frustration, you poked him in the shin several times.
"Come on, seriously Sherlock. I've been the flat for most of the day and I just want some exercise. Move." Sherlock simply closed his eyes again, obviously delving back into his Mind Palace.
"Oi! Get up!"

He ignored you.
"Sherlock I'm being serious, this isn't funny anymore. Get off me!" He sat up quickly which you weren't expecting, making you jump a little.
"Y/N! Stop disturbing me I'm busy." You felt anger rising in your chest but you attempted to push it down; you weren't in the mood for a fight.
"You can go back in your mind palace when I've gone, can you just move your legs for a second?"

Sherlock scoffed at you and steepled his hands under his chin.
"Your parents have died and you've sold their house but that doesn't mean you can get everything you want." Your eyes widened at him, feeling the familiar sensation of hot tears pricking your eyes.
"Y-you-" you began in a shaky voice, "-are the rudest, most irritating person I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

You then -with some great force- shoved his legs off you and rushed from the flat, down the stairs and out of the front door. As you walked away, a clap of thunder sounded behind you signifying the start of a thunderstorm. Rain fell effortlessly from the sky immediately soaking you through. You let out a sigh and turned in the direction of the park, hoping for some shelter.

John:
John was working late. Again. He never seemed to have any time for you anymore. You were good friends and good friends were supposed to have fun together and hang out but with John always out you felt lonelier than ever. Sherlock wasn't much company's especially since you'd used his violin. Plus Lestrade had been giving him more and more cases meaning that he was hardly ever around at 221B.

On days like this you'd just go home and find something to do. You weren't employed at a full time job, you just helped out at the bookstore near your house every Saturday, Sunday and Monday. As you had nothing to do for the other days of the week you had begun to look for another job to fill them.

John had recently started working on Thursdays and Fridays but had two days off on Saturday and Sunday. You had thought that after you'd helped at the bookstore you and him would be able to hang around together and talk but it was these days that Sherlock whisked John away to help him on various cases.

You had been more or less forgotten. That's how you found yourself on Sunday afternoon, having just finished your shift, outside 221B. Hesitantly, you knocked on the door and waited nervously for someone to answer it. Footsteps sounded in the hall as someone made their way across the hallway to let you in.