"But. . . ."
"Sorry, John. I just don't feel this is working out."
"But. . . ."
"You're a really great guy and all, but I feel like we're in some sort of weird three-way relationship, but without the sex."
"But. . . ."
"Look, I'm sorry about this, especially with the Officers' Ball next week. It just isn't meant to be. Hopefully, you'll find somebody else to go with you. Take care, John."
John lowered his mobile from his ear and stared at it uncomprehendingly for several moments before pressing the screen to end the call.
"AHHHHHHHHHH," he howled spinning rapidly around and pointing the phone at his flatmate who was working unconcernedly on his latest experiment at the kitchen table.
"You!" John growled. "This is all your fault!"
"Hmmm?" Sherlock responded without looking up from his microscope. "I do not see how you can blame your inability to retain a relationship on me, John."
"Oh really? I suppose incessant phone calls during dates, surprise visits at my girlfriends' houses, and blunt deductions about every aspect of the lives of each girl I bring home don't have anything to do with it? Christ, Sherlock, Liz is the fifth girl in as many months to break up with me. And I really liked her! Now I don't have a date for the Officers' Ball," moped John.
"I thought doctors were supposed to be quite the catch with the ladies?" sneered Sherlock, turning his attention back to his microscope.
The doctor in question scoffed. "Apparently that doesn't apply to doctors with Sociopathic flatmates."
"Really, John. If this ball of yours is that important to you, I will find you a date for the event. Now, I'm bored with this conservation and wish to get back to my experiment."
John stared disbelievingly at the man. "Excuse me? You are going to find me a date? Ohhhhhhhhh. I see it now. Sherlock Holmes, the World's Only Consulting Love Detective." Widening his eyes, clasping his hands in front of his chest, and kicking one ankle out to the side, John pleaded in a falsetto voice, "Oh, Mr. Holmes. I appear to be missing a date for the ball? Will you please, pretty please, find me a date?"
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock merely huffed in irritation at John's sarcasm and proceeded to ignore him.
"You know what, Sherlock? I'm going to go out for a very long walk and hope that some of that genius and overabundant ego of yours will rub off on me long enough for me to come up with a solution to this situation. Thanks for nothing, mate! And with that the doctor grabbed his coat and stormed out of 221B with a slam of the door punctuating his departure.
The detective's only reaction was a sly smile, and a mumbled, "You'll see John. You'll see."