Sherlock couldn't think, he couldn't focus, and that was a problem. He had cases to solve, things to think about, but all he could think of was the color red. Red is an adjective, next to orange on the spectrum of color, and opposite of violet. Red was the first color that Sherlock ever learned the name of, so red had somewhat of significance to him.
"Could it have been the girlfriend that committed the murder?" John pulled him out of his thoughts; he was the only one that could stop the maddening color from invading every damn room in his mind palace, and he had been doing that a lot lately, unintentionally. Sherlock looked up at and into John's eyes; today they were blue, a very vibrant blue. His eyes, they change like someone with entirely too much time on their hands changes the color of their nail polish, yesterday they were a light brown.
"Your eyes change color quite frequently, did you know?" and with those words, John's eyes lit up as a shy smile plastered itself onto his face. Like it was so bloody uncommon for Sherlock to notice things about him, John was unbelievable. And what was that? A light shade of pink was dusting his cheeks, he was blushing, unbelievable.
Sherlock sighed as John began to stutter out some ridiculous reply. He should definitely withhold his noticing of things. "It wasn't the damn girlfriend. I ruled that out two hours ago." He grumbled, suddenly annoyed with himself for not controlling his tongue. John's eyes dimmed a bit and it made Sherlock feel guilt for a whole four seconds before the lousy emotion fled.
"I… have Heterochromia Iridis." John's voice was distant as Sherlock's thoughts consumed him once again. Red, red was all he could think of for the thirty second time that day. Red surrounded him in his mind palace. Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. It had not stopped.
"…my eyesight, it's just the color changes, I've always been a bit embarrassed by it." That was John's voice; he had been rambling this entire time.
"Embarrassed, why would you be? Your eyes are lovely, John." Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek, and he bit down hard. That entire compliment slipped out, it had slipped out, and now it was too late for Sherlock to grab it and put it back where it belonged. John heard it, he heard everything Sherlock said.
"T-Thank you, that's very good of you to…" One look at Sherlock and John snapped his mouth shut. Sherlock was glaring at him, it had slipped out. These bloody emotions kept rolling off of him in waves and crashing right into John.
"Why would you be embarrassed?" His tone was low, threatening almost. He wasn't angry with John, he was angrier with himself, and the fact John was acting like he hadn't received any compliments in his entire life, which was rubbish, absolute rubbish.
"Just silly grade school bullshit, Sherlock. It doesn't matter." Something clicked in Sherlock's mind palace, bullying. Bullying was added to this case's file in his roller coaster of a mind, and the red had ceased for the time being. The girl they found on the ground wasn't murdered, she was pushed. She had her limit and it had been reached. She offed herself, yes, but it was because of bullying. Why would someone bully her? She had been described as a nice girl, averagely smart, and she was dating someone, so it wasn't loneliness.
"Aha! She was dating a girl, a person of the same gender. Of course, most idiots cannot see past that! John, I've solved it!"
They were rushing out the door in a matter of seconds, taking a taxi to Scotland Yard.