This is the sequel to my fanfiction Coincidence Does Not Imply Causality. Please review! I love feedback!
The sound of Sherlock's violin drifted through the flat. John groaned, turning over in his bed. "What the hell time is it?" He muttered, turning over again. He opened his eyes, and stared at the clock. "Oh god that can't be right," He groaned. John rolled onto his back for a second before propping himself up. He tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. When they confirmed it was indeed 5:00 in the morning, he sighed deeply and fell back on his bed again. "Why Sherlock?" He mumbled, his voice and facial expression were utterly exasperated. After about fifteen minutes, Sherlock was still playing. John knew it was no use trying to get back to sleep. With a loud sighing groan, John practically rolled out of bed. Shuffling down the hall, he stuck his head in the doorway of parlor. Sherlock's back was turned to his. "Why?" John repeated, this time his hand motions matched the exasperation in his voice. Sherlock finished the piece before turning around. He moved to sit in the chair closest to the window, clearly still lost in thought. John sighed again and slumped into the chair across from him. "If I asked you what you were thinking about, would you tell me?" Sherlock said nothing for a few second before he seemed to shift his attention to John. "I've gone soft John." "I'm sorry, what?" John asked, not following where Sherlock was going. "The Ayrd case John, what if that sentimental story affected my judgment." Sherlock got up again looking rather agitated. He began to pace. John rolled his eyes and said, "No Sherlock, that was the only logical possibility. We both know that…Besides, that was weeks ago… You've solved several cases since then with no trouble what so ever." Sherlock continued to pace. "But I still should have given the address to Lestrade, why didn't I turn him in?" John shrugged, "You trusted your judgment more than a Jury's… That doesn't make you soft…" John stood up, "it just makes you a bit self absorbed…Look, I am going back to bed…Don't worry so much, ok?" As he reached the hallway he muttered, "Besides, having a shred of compassion wouldn't exactly add up to Sherlock Holmes being soft."
A few hours later, John was slouched in the couch with his laptop. Sherlock had gone back to pacing. appeared in the doorway, grocery bags in hand. "Boys, I think there is someone waiting for you outside your door." Sherlock was still completely lost in his thoughts. John was too exhausted to be paying much attention to anything at all. Ms. Hudon cleared her throat, speaking a bit louder she said, "It's a young woman, can't be very old… She said she was still thinking of what she was going to say and that's why she hadn't rang yet." John shook his head and mumbled, "Sorry what?" Ms. Hudson sighed and said, "You have a guest waiting for you at your front door that you shouldn't keep waiting any longer." She left shaking her head. "I swear they never learn to listen.