#21 | Day
John exited the cab, swiftly paying the fare and stalking up to the door labeled 221B. He slammed the door as he stepped in and stormed up the stairs, slamming the door to the flat as well.
Sherlock appeared from the kitchen, holding a test tube in one hand and a flask in the other.
"Oh, you're back." he commented before retreating back into the kitchen to finish his experiment. Not a moment later did he realize something, and, quickly setting down his test tube and flask and taking off his safety goggles, he exited the kitchen, John still standing in front of the door to the flat, hands clenching and unclenching as his sides.
"For God sakes, what the hell happened to you?" Sherlock asked examining John's face, which had taken a beating: A busted lip, cut cheek and a black eye already starting to form.
John glared up as his flatmate.
"Life." he deadpanned before going and sitting down in his chair by the fireplace with an angry, frustrated, annoyed huff.
Sherlock stared at the back of his friend's head for a moment before saying, "I'll... go get the first-aid kit."
Thank you for everything,
TheBrightestNight