John had to get out of the flat. As soon as he possibly could, he excused himself, saying he had to get to work. Sherlock's protests of "The clinic doesn't even open until ten!" Going unheeded.
He decided to walk to work, since the sky was only vaguely grey and sulky today, rather than actively raining, and stopped at a coffee shop for a quick breakfast. As he arrived at the counter and began to place his order, the youngish girl at the till glanced up. Her eyes widened.
"Hey! I know you. You're that blogger bloke what works with the detective! What's his name...Sherman?"
"Sherlock." Even saying his name right then felt like an icicle stabbed through his heart.
"Right, Sherlock. Right genius, he is, and quite the looker, too. Some people have all the luck."
"Yeah..." John muttered. He was seriously considering strangling this kid. If it hadn't been for the fact that his best friend was literally the cleverest detective in all Europe... no. Not thinking of him. Order food. Leave. John hurriedly ordered the first thing he could think of, and got out of there. As he left the shop, his phone chirped. Sherlock. Damn.
'John, on your way home bring film for camera. And cesium, iodine and peroxide. And more tea. SH'
'NO'
'Why are you angry? SH
...
'John, don't be boring. I'll let you on this case... Three witnesses, they all swear that it was a '
'NO'
'Vampire, John!'
'Work, Sherlock'
'Please.'
And that was as close as Sherlock was ever going to come to apologizing. Besides, it wasn't as though it was his fault that John was a, to use the detective's words, "sentimental idiot".
This was the life that John lived for, after all, and he was just going to have to get used to a little extra pain.
'Fine. I'll call Sarah.'
'Don't forget the tea. SH'
A/N Short chapter is short. Sorry. I'll be back this weekend, ok?