-After TRF-
Joy lounged on the sofa, trying not to claw at the walls with boredom, because Sadness was at the control. Again. The pudgy teardrop hadn't left the console for three days. THREE DAYS! Okay, maybe not a straight seventy two hours, but for the most part, Joy was banned from the table, even from her own chair.
Sherlock had come back, which was good. When they first recognized Sherlock, with his drawn-on mustache, Joy darted in through the general depressive state and put her entire weight on her button. For a split second, John was filled with relief, and Joy was happy - fantastically happy - that she was momentarily able to lift some of the weight that Sherlock put on John's mind when he fell. When he jumped. But the second after, they fully understood that Sherlock was faking his death the entire time. That Sherlock made John suffer for three whole years; forcing Sadness - lovable, exhausted Sadness - to take 4, 8, 20 hour shifts at a time being the only one at the controls; when they realized everything they had suffered the last three years was because of that ignorant bloody clot! Anger stormed the controls.
Despite Disgust trying to pull him back, and Joy blocking his seat, he pushed them aside, flames streaming from his block head, nearly breaking the entire console with his rage. Once the emotions realized there was no stopping him, they backed away from the console, all four of them hiding behind the couch.
When Fear laid eyes on Sherlock, his eyes jumped out of his head.
"H-he was d-dead, right g-guys?" The others - besides Joy, who leapt to her station before Anger noticed - were too stunned to respond. "G-guys? Dead man walking!" Looking frantically around the room, the emotions' expressions of shock confirmed what Fear had suspected.
In a uncharacteristically calm voice, Fear joked, "Haha. Of course. It's a ghost," and then promptly fainted while Anger decided to slug Sherlock in his pretty cheekbones. While murmuring about cutting John's knuckles, Sadness dragged Fear to the safety of behind the couch, before waddling away to try her calm touch at restraining Anger.
Next to an unconscious Fear, Disgust peered over the couch cushions to watch the exchange between Sadness and Anger, which mimicked that of John and Sherlock. Anger would lash out, smash Sherlock's face, and Sadness would calm him down enough until he did it again. Sadness was truly a magician when it came to taming the brick wall. Even so, by the time Anger left, two of the buttons were fried and a lever was broken, and maintenance had to come to Headquarters to repair Anger's station. He just grumbled, and plopped himself on his chair.
Disgust made her way to the console, adding a touch of resentment into John's mind.
How could he? How could Sherlock do this to us? Sadness agreed. Together, she and Disgust created a few orbs that rolled in with a satisfying, but hurtful clink.
Sherlock betrayed John. Friends don't do that to their bloggers! Not if they actually cared.
"Heroes don't exist, John. And if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."
Sherlock didn't have to be a hero, he just had to be human. Because humans wouldn't leave their best friends alone, to let Sadness become their leader, to let John spiral down, into where even Joy wasn't able to help.
Joy lounged on the sofa, trying not to claw at the walls, because Sadness was at the control. Again. For the foreseeable future, because there was no way John was forgiving him easily after this, so Sadness And there was nothing Joy could do about it.
