John trudged up the stairs to 221B. Sherlock had left him at St. Bart's again. He'd said he'd stop doing that, but John couldn't really believe that. He just knew Sherlock's mind didn't work that way. But it was rather inconvenient.
He opened the door, expecting to see Sherlock at the microscope or reading some sort of book on a serial killing from ages ago in the living room. But they were empty. He heard the sound of rushing water. But it shut off as soon as he entered the house.
"John?" It was Sherlock, but he didn't sound the same. The thing about Sherlock is that when he speaks you can hear arrogance in his voice, even when he's not making deductions. That wasn't in his voice. He sounded embarrassed. It was foreign in John's ears.
"Sherlock?" John asked hesitantly.
"I'm in the bath." came the same timid voice.
"Are you okay?"
"In a manner of speaking."
"Is it okay if I come in?"
He heard Sherlock inhale deeply. "Yes." He said, as though through gritted teeth.
John opened the door slowly.
Sherlock was at one end of the bathtub, and in the other was a deep purple fishtail. It took John a moment to put two and two together, but when he did, he took an immediate step backwards.
Sherlock tried his best not to look like it was too unusual.
"Unfortunate lab accident." Sherlock sounded as though he was regaining his voice. The tail twitched as he said it though.
"Are you okay?" John said quickly.
"Oh just splendid." Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing for now, just let me talk to you. The skull is a bit out of reach." John knew this excuse. Sherlock was lonely.
"Okay. But I'm calling Molly after this."