So my muse hit me again on the train ride from my boyfriend's. I don't really think it's as good as the first chapter and Sherlock might be a bit OOC, but that's what wanted to be written apparently^^
John opened the door to 221 Baker Street and was greeted with the last shaky tunes of a violin melody before that melody broke.
Familiar worry lines appeared on his forehead. It was never a good sign when his eccentric flatmate played sad melodies, but he had never heard him playing so shaky, except…
John froze for a second and then sprinted up the stairs, taking to steps in one. If this idiot started taking drugs again, he was going to kill him!
When he opened the door to number B he saw his flatmate and best friend standing at the window. His body was halfway turned towards the rest of the living room and the expression on his face was the same he always had when in his mind palace; eyes fixed on some imaginary point outside the window and his face still as made from concrete.
John stopped in the door. Tears, there were tears running down Sherlock's cheeks. He had never seen the detective cry. He wasn't as cold and emotionless as his older brother but most if the emotions he showed were anger, disgust, boredom and sometimes confusion.
John slowly walked towards the younger man, to not disturb him.
"Sherlock? What's wrong? Has something happened?"
Sherlock quickly turned around, it seemed like he hadn't heard his flatmate enter the room at all. That wasn't really something new, Sherlock often didn't pay attention to his surroundings.
What worried John, was the fact that Sherlock didn't even try to hide the hurt and sadness showing on his face and the tears running down his cheeks.
He looked at John like it took him a second to realize who was standing in front of him. When he recognized his blogger, he averted his gaze.
"John… John… It's… It's all my fault!"
The doctor barely understood what Sherlock stumbled out and only just managed to catch the taller man before he slumped down on the floor.