CRASH!
Sherlock barely registers the sound of the front door being almost ripped off its hinges. He pauses for a fleeting moment from his train of thought, something he rarely does. John can be gone for hours without Sherlock noticing and even when he comes back, most of the time he is not acknowledged by the curley haired consulting detective. But this time was different, somehow.
He hears more sounds, most of which are evidently John bumping into things and falling over in the corridor, as it is not that difficult to deduce. Has his friend been drugged? Attacked?
Sherlock thinks back to the exact time John left- he may not acknowledge his friend's leaving, but it is noted somewhere in his mind. What was it he said? "Just off to see Susan. Ill pick up some milk on the way back" whatever could go wrong with that? He furrowed his brow.
His (almost worried) train of thought was interrupted by an odd dull thudding sound slinking up the stairs, and John babbling incoherently. Sherlock decides his little friend has been attacked even though he sees the flaw in this deduction- John was a trained medical officer in the armed forces; nobody could get the jump on him. But what else could it be? In the end he puts it down to John's height, just before John enters the room.
Sherlock rushes towards him checking for any signs of damage, but is surprised to find none. All he can see is a stupid grin on his roomate's face.
"What the hell happened?!" He asks, taking a step back from John after discovering the initial danger was not present.
"Y-you know the thing about you" John staggers a bit backwards, nearly falling over causing Sherlock to take a step forward to catch him, pausing only when John was stable again. "Is that you're just plain arrobant- I mean arroglant-" he looked confused for a moment "arro- arrogant"
He smiles triumphantly at Sherlock then adds "and pretty"
Sherlock takes a good step back. Loss of balance, pupils dilated, incoherent speech, loss of inhibition. Only possible conclusion: drunk.
"But John" he starts with a pained expression "you were doing so well- you haven't been intoxicated since before you moved in with me. Why now? No, hold on a second" his eyes light up the way they always do when there is a puzzle before him.
Red bloodshot eyes, indicates he's been crying, indicating fear or personal loss . Since he is an ex army officer the possibility of fear bringing him to tears is unlikely. Personal loss it is then. Now, what's personal to him? Possessions include: his wallet containing a picture of his ex friends in the army, his jumpers. From the bulge in his pocket he clearly hasn't lost his wallet, and he wouldn't cry over his jumpers. That leaves personal attachments with people: myself, Mrs Hudson, and his current girlfriend, whatever her name is. Not important. I am fine and I saw Mrs Hudson ten minutes ago saying she would head off to bed. Leaves his girlfriend. So his girlfriend broke up with him. Bitten fingernails, and crumpled yet nice clothes support this theory. Q.E.D.
He sighs and decides now would not be the best time to talk to John as he might, god forbid, express his feelings to Sherlock. Pointless things, emotions. What the hell do I do now? Think, Sherlock.
He remembers the time he was drugged, and John simply put him to bed. Better than nothing.
Awkwardly, the detective places a steady hand on johns back, and gently steers him towards his room. John starts giggling wildly and falls into sherlocks arms.
"You haven't even bought me a drink, and you're already taking me off to bed!" He remarks, slurring his words.
Sherlock sighs, rolls his eyes and proceeds to help John into bed. When he decides John is comfortable enough, he makes to leave the room.
"I'll be in the next room If you need me" he says, absentmindedly adapting the statement he had heard John say on more than one occasion.
"Why would I need you?" He hears the familiar muffled question from the bed. He smirks and then turns off the light.
"No reason"