The Blonde

John's Dos and Don'ts

John sat on the sofa next to Sherlock drinking the tea that he made after they finished cleaning up Rose's flat. She'd just stepped into the shower, which he knew was an attempt to make them leave, but the detective refused to budge. He was worried about her. Worried that she'd go searching for Moriarty the moment his back was turned, but she wasn't taking his attempt to protect her very well, which was more akin to holding her prisoner, but Sherlock possessed little to no experience in matters of the heart.

If the detective was ever going to have a successful relationship John would have to fill him in on the dos and don'ts, which was something he looked forward to as much as cleaning gutters. No time like the present.

"You realize you're making a mistake, don't you?" John asked.

"Sorry?" Sherlock inquired.

"I know you're worried about her, but you can't force her to do what you want."

"I'm supposed to let her run to Moriarty who no doubt took her phone to lead her into a trap?"

"Not on her own."

"I don't want her anywhere near him," Sherlock snapped in that childish way that reminded John of a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Neither do I, but you can't treat her like that."

"What else am I supposed to do when she insists on putting herself in danger?"

"You compromise."

"Compromise?" he asked, as if it was the worst idea he'd ever heard.

"You might be used to getting your own way Sherlock, but you can't be like that with her. She's had to learn to depend on herself and when you take her choices away. No, more than that. When you insist that her choices are wrong because you won't even talk to her all you're going to do is drive her away."

"And if her choice is to run directly into danger like some idiot with a death wish?"

"What? Like you?" John asked.

Sherlock's eyes widened for a moment and then he dismissed John's claim with a wave of his hand.

"I…that's completely different."

Completely different my arse.

"Why?"

"Because I know what I'm doing." Again with the childish insistence.

Rose wasn't some naive girl. She fought in battles. Hell, look at how she saved Sherlock's brother. Yes, his friend needed reminding.

"And you don't think she does? I'm quite sure she's been in dangerous situations before. She rescued Mycroft from Moriarty on her own."

"Exactly my point."

"What?" John asked, confused.

"She went off on her own to trade herself for my brother."

"And?"

"And that was stupid."

Sherlock was in his I'm right and you're wrong no matter what you say mood.

"You jumped off a building."

"I faked my death."

"And if you hadn't been able to fake it?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

"You're more like each other than either of you will admit," John continued. "If someone was doing to you what you're doing to her what would you do?" Sherlock eyed him. "You need to talk to her. Work with her. Otherwise she's going to do it anyway and, as you said, she'll be running directly into his trap…alone."

John stood up and stretched. "I'm heading up to the flat, but do us all a favor. Fix the door just in case you two decide to fall off the sofa again."

He walked out before Sherlock could shoot off a replay. He wasn't sure if his friend would take his advice. John hoped, for both their sakes, he would.

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