When John Watson entered the living room, his flat mate was there, playing the violin. He was composing again. He hadn't talked for two weeks. All he did was to play the violin, lie on the sofa or sneak outside, probably to use drugs, as his eyes were red and his appetite was gone. The last time John had seen Sherlock so brokenhearted was such a long time ago, but it was because of a woman. This time, it's because of his brother. It seemed that Sherlock actually believed his brother had betrayed him. Mrs. Hudson hurried upstairs, carrying a tray full of food. There were two plates on the tray – one for Sherlock and one for John. John kept eating parts of Sherlock's food, in order to make her believe everything's alright. Only it wasn't. Sherlock was broken hearted again, and again, John didn't know what to do. So, since he had no other option, he decided to consult the only person who knew Sherlock as well as he did. "Thank you." he said to his landlady quietly with a smile. He sat down to eat. After he finished his own meal, he ate some of Sherlock's, just enough to make it look real. "I'm leaving, Sherlock." His flat mate continued playing, ignoring him. "I'll be back soon." Still no answer. John sighed and left.