John

Something isn't right as I head up the stairs again. Sounds of banging, and of things being thrown. Sherlock. I throw open the door,

"What the Hell is wrong with you?" Sherlock doesn't listen and continues to throw his papers around. His shirt isn't neatly tucked in, his buttons, half unbuttoned. I can't see his face. He tips over the coffee table sending a mug to the floor, shattering it. He throws a box to the floor, kicking it to pieces. I can't do anything, can't stop him. "Sherlock." He reaches for his violin, picking it up by the neck, and swings it at the wall, breaking it into pieces, leaving the handle held to scraps of the body by a couple of strings. "Sherlock." He drops it and stands there, head hung low and breathing heavily, shoulders shaking slightly. "Sherlock?" Something is wrong, something's up. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" He says nothing, just standing there, trembling. I make my way across the room, picking the path that is safer, to reach him. I put a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at comfort, "Sherlock, are you okay?" He collapses to the floor, silently crying. Only now that I'm up closer to him, I can see the tear stained trails leading down his cheeks. His shoulders shake more, silently sobbing. I sit down next to him, he's going to be okay. He has to be. "Sherlock." He leans into my chest, his head over my heart, his tears staining my shirt. This is awkward. "Everything is going to be okay. It's all okay. Everything is fine." I hug him a little, I wonder what's wrong. Something has obviously broken the cold barrier that surrounds his heart. Something's wrong.

"Oh John. What have I done?" He sounds so melancholy, so hopeless,

"I don't know Sherlock. What have you done?" He frowns and softly hits his head against my chest.

"I don't know. John. I don't know. I've sent mother away, far away, and I don't know..." his voice trails off and he hits his head against my chest again, "Can you help me?" Flattered by his asking for help I think of anything I can do. Nothing comes to mind. Sadly I shake my head,

"Sherlock I'm sorry. I've got nothing." He smiles a little bit before wiping his eyes and standing,

"You're home early." He starts to button up his shirt properly and straighten his jacket, feeling better. Wait. How does he know what time I should be home? I didn't even know myself.

"What?"

"You normally would have been back ten minutes from now, and by then everything would be cleaned up. Now you have to help me out." He smiles before righting the table and clearing up the ceramic.

"How do you know I would be back? I didn't even know myself." Sherlock's smile curved up one side of his face,

"Shot in the dark. You don't have much to do so the only place you could go would be Sarah's, ten minute drive from here. Obviously that wasn't where you were headed." I laugh, it was where I was headed, I got distracted by a shop, and then decided against going to Sarah's. So then I came home.

"Actually-"

"No, let me guess, you stopped by a shop and decided that going to Sarah's wasn't worth it and so you came straight home."

"You are amazing."

"How long have you shared a flat with me?" I chuckle,

"Maybe too long. And you never cease to amaze me. Everyday it's something new." He laughs a bit,

"Yeah. I guess it is." I right the chair and pick up the bits of violin when I hear a gasp at the door. Mrs. Hudson, I stand,

"It's not..."

"Sherlock, what have you done?" He looks up before hiding his hands behind his back,

"What?"

"Don't get smart young man. I know this is your fault." I best speak up. Sherlock's had enough trouble to deal with today.

"Bad day Mrs. Hudson. No worries, nothings permanent." She smiles at me,

"Well if you're sure." I smile back,

"Everything's fine here." She smiles again before heading downstairs.

"Thanks John." I nod,

"Anytime Sherlock. It's my pleasure." We're quite for a moment, nothing needs to be said,

"This never happened."

"Of course not. Never happened."