"Sherlock? It's for you." John held the phone up for Sherlock to reach. Sherlock grabbed it and moved to the couch where he plopped down.
"Hello? Ah, yes hello there Mycroft." Sherlock droned. John grinned at him. John knew Sherlock couldn't bear to talk to his brother. He found it hilarious that this man would face suicide bombers, blacklist criminals, and serial killers and was afraid of his family finding out about something they wouldn't like to hear.
"Yes, yes, I have a new case. Where'd you hear that?" Sherlock sat up again. John sipped his coffee and looked back at his paper. Then, his jaw fell open and he stared at the front page.
Sherlock investigates Mr. Mertz case
"Sherlock, you might want to-" John held up the paper for Sherlock to see. Sherlock got up and snatched the paper out of John's hands. He stared at the front page and read it quickly.
"I'll call you later." He mumbled and hung up. Sherlock slammed the paper on the table and rubbed his eyes with his hand.
"Dammit! Ms. Mertz spilled everything. Now we can't work without people watching our every move." He shook his head.
Sherlock opened the curtain slightly to look out at the photographers. They were all shouting his name, begging for answers. He sighed and let go of it. John watched him carefully, expecting for instructions for what to do. Sherlock paced in front of him.
After a minute or so, Sherlock went to the coat rack and tossed John his coat. He grabbed his own and pulled it around him. John cocked his head at him.
"What are we doing?" He questioned.
"Just follow me." Sherlock responded, swinging the door open. John obeyed and walked down the steps after Sherlock as he turned to Mrs. Hudson's apartment. He pounded on her door once he approached it.
"Mrs. Hudson!" He called. They could hear her opening a few locks on the door and finally, opening it.
"Sherlock! Did you-" She started but Sherlock shoved past her. John nodded at her and got past politely.
"Yes, quite frankly I did." He snapped. He swung open Mrs. Hudson's back door and gestured for John to follow him.
"Fine, go ahead and use my back door." She threw her arms up in the air, closing the door and walking back to her kitchen.
"Thanks." John mumbled. He walked past Sherlock as he held open the door. Sherlock scowled at Mrs. Hudson.
"We have to get away from those photographers." Sherlock spat. He slammed the door behind him.
"Ah, he's just grumpy I embarrassed him earlier." She mumbled to herself.
Earlier on Mrs. Hudson had walked in when John had been alone in Sherlock's apartment or so she thought. She told a story about how Sherlock had gotten so drunk he started saying his feelings for everybody. He said he always hadn't appreciated the way Mrs. Hudson always barged in on everything and how he never remembered Lestrade's name because he was a disappointment to mankind. Then, he said he had the potential to be a good detective but he couldn't make it with his attitude. She was about to tell John about what Sherlock said about him until Sherlock stormed to Mrs. Hudson in his bath towel. He told her to leave immediately very harshly.
The one thing Mrs. Hudson didn't regret in that moment was the look on John's face upon seeing Sherlock in a bath towel.
Once Sherlock had closed the door, he stormed passed John who had his hands in his pockets. Sherlock grabbed a cigarette out of his pocket and started lighting it. John didn't see at first and asked where we were going to get a cab. Then, he saw Sherlock with the stick of cancer and sprinted up to him. He snatched it out of his mouth and chucked it at the ground.
"What on earth are you doing?!" He yelled. Sherlock stared at him, eyes burning into John's. John grew a little weak but he still kept eye contact. Then, John smashed his foot over it and smushed it into the ground. Sherlock scoffed at him.
"I'm stressed…" He mumbled. John looked at him, confused. He sighed and walked out to the street. John waved down a taxi and opened the door for Sherlock.
"Let's hurry up, shall we?" Sherlock barked at the taxi driver. He jumped as John slammed the door behind him. Then, the taxi driver sped away from the curb.
"Where to, lads?" He asked, a little scared. John handed him an address and the taxi driver nodded.