Sherlock didn't leave his room until the next morning. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all. John thought he had heard pacing above him as he slept and that seemed possible.
"Do you want some toast?"
Sherlock mumbled. John asked again, turning round to look at his flat-mate. His usually silver eyes were clouded over as if in a trance. Waving his hand in front of Sherlock's face, he sighed.
"Sherlock? Hello? Anyone home?"
A look of surprise crossed Sherlock's white features. Blinking rapidly, he stared at John.
"What? Sorry. Didn't quite catch that."
"Are you ok? Do you zone out a lot?"
"Err…yeah. Sometimes."
"Do you want some toast then?"
"No. I'm fine."
"Come on Sherlock, you have to eat something."
"You sound so much like my school friend, Ellie. She wouldn't let me be fine either."
He turned round in his chair, sulking. He gripped his forearm wincing.
"Are you ok? What's wrong?"
"Nothing, nothing. I'm fine. Leave me alone." Sherlock whimpered.
"But…"
Sherlock ran out of the room and into his own. John's worry was increasing. Mrs Hudson shuffled into the room.
"Had a domestic, dear?"
"No. But I do think something's wrong with Sherlock."
"Just give him a couple of days. He'll be fine. Do you want a cup of tea, love?"
"No, I'm ok, Mrs Hudson. I have to get to work." John stood up. "But thanks for the offer."
He walked out of the flat.
