Disclaimer: As always not mine
Glass Slippers
They don't make glass slippers pretty as they seem; trouble is glass slippers shatter like a dream.
John walked in the room with a defeated air, yet he did not feel all that bad. Sherlock sat on the couch torturing the violin.
"It's over" –John stated, while pausing for a reaction that never came. The plink of a violin cord was the only sound that follow. –"Not that you care obviously."
"I thought you ended last night." – His indifferent tone was what bothered John the most; for once, he needed Sherlock the friend, not the detective.
"Nope! She ended it Sherlock! I told you that before. But apparently you were not listening to me… As always." –The sound of a slamming door followed John.
"She also said I was a lucky man." Sherlock got up slowly and headed to his room. He felt on his bed still wearing his rope. Was he really a lucky man? Didn't think so.
John woke up the next morning to find his present on top of the table. It was a tablet engraved with his name. He almost ran to Sherlock's room only to find it empty. It was odd that Sherlock would leave so early in the morning, but again this was Sherlock Holmes and unpredictable was his middle name.
Author's Note: Thank you for reading
