Part Two
John emerged from the bathroom ready for work. He immediately saw Sherlock pacing between his board and the window. John sighed when he realised Sherlock hadn't even noticed John enter the room. He yawned as he shuffled into the kitchen, grabbing a mug as he walked by.
"Do you want a drink Sherlock?" John asked over his shoulder.
As usual he was met with a silence, and as usual he returned to the cupboard to retrieve another mug for Sherlock. John was used to their limited interactions by now, he had learned to not expect decent conversation while Sherlock was working on the Moriarty case. It made him mad seeing him so wrapped up on this man, it was insane! And all the while he had to be the middle man between Sherlock and Lestrade, all because Sherlock was being ridiculous and refusing to accept any other cases.
John really couldn't understand why Sherlock was still desperately chasing him, they hadn't had any leads for weeks now, he was just sending himself into madness by trying to discover Moriarty's hiding place. He couldn't bear living like this much longer. When they first started out as flatmates, sure it was aggravating at times, but mainly it was, well, absolutely brilliant and exciting.
He had never really been a solitary person, he enjoyed the company of others, and when he found himself alone, it definitely wasn't through choice. That's why he had so easily taken up a flat share with Sherlock; it was just better for him and his problems with PTSD to not be alone. When they first began living together everything became much easier, it was as if his war problems just melted away.
However nowadays he was finding things increasingly difficult. Communication with Harry was as strained as always, and since his breakup with Sarah, things at work had been increasingly awkward. Not that he expected it him and Sarah to last very long mind you. John had never had very successful relationships with women; he didn't know why, and he just never clicked with them in the right way.
He poured the two cups of tea absentmindedly, watching Sherlock pace as he did so. John knew things couldn't carry on like this for much longer; their friendship was just becoming more and more strained. John could tell, Sherlock needed a friend right now though. He needed to let someone in and stop being such an egotist. It was like he thought he could solve all the world's problems by himself, just with the flick of bony wrists, when of course it just wasn't possible. All John wanted to do was tell him... just make Sherlock see that it's okay to be human once in a while. He finished making the tea and set the kettle back in his place. Making his way towards the living room, he wondered what Sherlock was intending to do with his day. As a consulting detective with absolutely nobody to consult, surely the day must go slow for him.
He dropped Sherlock's cup onto the windowsill as he sat down in his chair to drink his own.
"Any plans for today Sherlock?" John asked in-between sips.
Again he was met with a mixture of impolite silence this time with added grumbling, aimed at something other than him. John shook his head, growing angrier with Sherlock by the minute. Something had to be done!
Something was decidedly different this morning though, he found Sherlock was acting especially indifferent. Usually John was asked to retrieve something closer to Sherlock than him, or to help relook over a clue; or something along those lines.
But not this morning. This morning he was met with complete indifference from his flatmate, and he had absolutely no idea as to why. John huffed loudly, wondering what he had done - or better yet, not done, to cause this behaviour from Sherlock. Not that he thought it was worth mulling over, he had to be at work in fifteen minutes, and he was sure to be late for work if he didn't set off soon.
"I'm off to work Sherlock, I will see you tonight yes?"
Sherlock turned around on the balls of his feet, and stared at John for a good five seconds.
It was the first time this morning John had even been able to get a proper look of him, what with the pacing and the ignoring that had been taking place. Sherlock looked decidedly dishevelled; his black curls stuck up in all directions as if he had made no effort to tame it, and his purple silk shirt had only the bottom three buttons done up, resulting in the material hanging very loosely from his chest. On one foot he wore a black sock, yet the other was bare. John stared at the usually pristine detective in shock; his mouth might as well have been hanging open. It had been a long while since he had seen Sherlock not looking his usual immaculate self. He didn't have time to comment however, for the moment soon passed, and Sherlock stood with his back to John, staring out of the window once more with his long fingers pressed firmly into his hair.
"Yeah... bye then," Grumbled John.
He didn't wait for Sherlock to reply this time, instead grabbing his coat and quickly leaving the flat.