There was something John needed to do, yet he was hesitant as it would mean leaving Sherlock for a couple of days.
Staring at Sherlock, who was literally upside down on the sofa, over the top of his newspaper, John wondered how to tell Sherlock.
John's eyes lost focus and he stared without actually seeing at Sherlock, as he tried to think up the best way to tell Sherlock.
With a loud sigh, Sherlock rolled off of the couch and marched over to John, taking his newspaper, startling John, and bent down to stare into John's eyes intensely.
"Gah! SH-Sherlock! What are you doing?!" John exclaimed, leaning backwards.
Sherlock just followed him, peering into his eyes and grabbing his chin to hold him still when John would have moved away.
"Where are you going?" Sherlock demanded; a slight trace of worry in his eyes.
John sighed, closing his eyes briefly. Reaching up with really noticing, John runs a hand through Sherlock's curls.
"I have some things I need to do. It will take a couple of days, but I will return. Promise," John says, smiling slightly.
Sherlock frowns, leaning slightly into John's hand in his hair. "What things?" Sherlock demands, unrelenting.
"Just some stuff, Sher." John sighs.
Sherlock's eyes widened as he tried to get John to give him more information.
"No, Sher! Please, I won't be gone long. Oh, speaking of which, I need to get packing; my cab will be here in an hour."
There was definite panic on Sherlock's face now. "John! No, don't leave me!" He whimpered desperately.
Smiling slightly, John leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss on Sherlock's lips. "I won't be gone that long. You'll be fine, I'm sure that a nice murder will come up to keep you busy." John soothed; standing and walking up the stairs to his room, Sherlock trailing behind him.
"But-!" Sherlock started to protest, but cut himself off.
John grinned; he knew exactly what Sherlock was going to say and that was why he was leaving. He pulled out a suitcase as Sherlock leant against his doorframe, a forlorn expression as he watched John pack some of his things.
Zipping up the suitcase, John walked up to Sherlock, stretched up and kissed him. Leaning down to accommodate for John's height, Sherlock responded desperately to John, his hands cupping John's face.
Closing his eyes, John slips his tongue into Sherlock's mouth briefly before breaking the kiss. Sherlock, not ready to let him go just yet, pulled John into a tight hug.
Smiling, John leans against Sherlock. He was going to miss Sherlock but he needed to do this. For Sherlock.
Sighing, John pulled away when he heard his cab honking. "I'll be back soon," John whispered, smiling up at Sherlock.
Wordlessly, Sherlock watched John go down the stairs.
Just before John got into the cab, he looked up at the flat window and saw Sherlock standing there, watching him, a sad expression on his face.
Getting into the cab, he told the cabbie Harry's address. As much as he despised his sister, he needed her help with this.
Groaning, he tugged on his long, black haired wig, and turned to Harry, with some difficulty, scowling. "Is this really necessary?" He groaned, gesturing to the pillows stuffed under the dress he was wearing, the make up on his face and the stockings.
"Of course! You don't want to get caught when we are this close, do you? Only two more pieces then you can get back to your precious man!" Harry exclaimed, grinning.
She was enjoying this way too much. Sighing, John gave in, strutting into the store.
Harry went straight up to the clerk and distracted the guy thoroughly, (ugh) while John went over to the rack he needed.
Glancing around casually, John noted the security camera and made sure his back was turned to it and that it couldn't see what he was doing.
Stealthily, John snuck the object into his purse, having no money to pay for it, and was just about to leave when he got a text.
'There's been a report of a series of robberies and there's a robbery in process in Scotland yard. Come if you can- SH'
Panicking, John grabbed Harry and he whispered urgently to her. "Code S!"
Bolting from the shop, John caught sight of Sherlock spotting them and a grin spread across his face as he took chase.
"Dammit, Harry! Now Sherlock's onto us! What did you do?!" John gasped angrily as they ran.
Harry huffed, turning a sharp corner. "Alright! So I accidentally allowed him to see you when you were stealing it! I didn't mean too! How was I meant to know you were stealing it at THAT moment?"
"But we won't be able to lose Sherlock! Once he's on the chase, he always catches them!" John wailed, looking back and seeing Sherlock gaining on them.
He didn't know these streets as well as Sherlock.
"On three," John said, eyes fixed on the stairwell ahead.
They both darted to the side and up the stair well.
Sherlock was close behind them, but (thankfully) hadn't recognised them. "Dammit, alright, go on!" John gasped.
Harry grinned and they spilt up, Harry circling around behind Sherlock and tackling him to the floor before getting up again with a gleeful squeal and catching up to John. Once Sherlock was down, they darted in a zig-zag until they got to Harry's apartment.
Leaning against the door, they huffed as they tried to get their breath back.
John texted Greg two days later. 'Get Sherlock out of the flat. I need to set up some stuff. I don't care what it takes, just keep him out for at least two hours'
John shoved his phone in his pocket, still disguised as a girl and sat down on a bench where he could see the entrance of the flat.
He took out a newspaper and carefully made sure his sunglasses were covering most of his face. He felt a bit silly, since it was 12am, but he needed this to work.
A few minutes later, a police car rolled up and Greg got out, marching up into the flat with Sherlock following behind him, face hard and coat billowing in the wind.
He looked over to where John was sitting and John held his breath until Sherlock got into the car. Then he walked quickly into the flat and upstairs.
After semi-assembly the thing, John got a frantic phone call from Greg.
"Look, John, I'm really sorry, but, god knows how he does it, figured out you were in the flat, and took off!" Greg huffed, sounding out of breath.
John glanced at what he was assembling. "Alright, Greg, I'll get out of here."
Shoving the thing under several blankets, John ran down the stairs and slipped out of the flat. He stared down the street, and stifled his snicker.
It was quite a sight. Sherlock was being chase by Greg, Anderson, Donovan AND Mycroft.
Sherlock had a determined expression on his face and didn't even glance at John as he dashed up the stairs.
John walked over to Greg, who took a moment before he realised it was John. "Sorry, John, I don't know HOW he did it, but… yeah." Greg huffed, trying to catch his breath.
"It's alright, when he comes out, tell him you saw me go in the direction of the pub, alright? I need to finish up before he gets back," John mumbled, keeping an eye on the door to the flat.
When he saw Sherlock beginning to emerge, he placed a hand on Greg's shoulder, smiled and whispered. "Jean Shawt."
Greg looked confused, but John didn't have time to explain. He walked off, pretending to be a girl, and sat down at the bench again.
He saw Sherlock ask Greg who that was, and Greg grinned, suddenly understanding what John had told him, and answered Sherlock confidently.
John watched in growing agitation, before Sherlock suddenly took off. Greg gave a thumbs up to John, and all of them took off after Sherlock.
'All clear,' John texted Greg, and leant against the back of his armchair, the thing he assembled in front of him, wrapped in wrapping.
He didn't have to wait long. A few minutes later the front door banged open. "John?!" Sherlock called up the stairs, and John could hear his feet pounding up.
Grinning, John watched Sherlock burst in through the door with a frantic expression. As he saw John, he grinned, then looked confused as he saw the wrapped up thing in front of John.
John stood slowly, his grin widening as he stretched out his arms. "Happy Birthday, Sherlock."
Sherlock look astounded. "You- you." Sherlock cleared his throat. "How did you-?"
Then he gave up, shaking his head and lunged at John, making the older man rock backwards slightly before he gained his balance and wrapped his arms around Sherlock. He put his head on top of Sherlock's and breathed in his scent. God, how he had missed Sherlock.
John stepped back after a bit. "Aren't you going to open it?" John asked, gesturing to the present.
Sherlock glanced at it, then at John. Sighing, he went over to it and unwrapped it. He gaped with shock as he saw what it was.
A set of extremely dangerous chemicals complete with tubes, tongs and a new pair of gloves for Sherlock (since his last ones had exploded somehow).
Sherlock looked up at John, eyes brimming with emotions, and lunged at John, tackling him to the floor and kissing him passionately. "Thank you," he whispered softly.