Sherlock was playing his violin, it had been about a hour since we talked. He was playing a deep but light melody. John tried to understand what he was thinking, but he was unable to. Sherlock played the violin in such a beautiful way. John always wondered where he learned how to play, probably out of shear boredum.
Sherlock abruptly stopped and looked at John.
"Hungry?" He asked in his baritone voice. John was a little startled that the music stopped so suddenly. John just nodded and got up to grab his coat.
Sherlock threw his coat on and put on his scarf, not like he normally does. He seemed frustrated about something.
They walked in silence to their usual itailian place.
John looked at Sherlock and slightly smiled. The detective looked up and stared at him for a bit.
"What are you looking at?" The detective asked.
"Hm? Oh, nothing."
"You're lying, why are you smiling? What's funny? What did I miss?" John sighed and went back to messing with his food. He put his fork down and got up, then paid.
"John, where are you going?" Sherlock asked while getting up and following the doctor. John didn't answer and just kept walking.
"John! Stop!" Sherlock yelled to him. John turned around.
"What, Sherlock?" He said, a bit of irritation in his voice. Sherlock looked confused.
"Are you okay?"
"I need to breathe and be alone. I'll be back at the flat later." John continued walking on by himself.
He walked for a good hour until his leg started to hurt. That was strange, he assumed that Sherlock fixed that a long time ago. He sighed, why was he feeling this way? Towards Sherlock? He cared about his flatmate, yes. But, more than normal. He shrugged that thought off, it just couldn't be. Sherlock didn't posses feelings, he didn't care. Or did he? That was stupid. He doesn't. John sighed in frustrating, why did this have to happen to him? Why did he care so much about a sociopath? John ignored his thoughts for the rest of the night and walked back home.