Sherlock paced around Molly's flat as he often had done in the past months. He would frequently find himself pacing from dawn until 'til dark, thinking mainly but also remembering. This wasn't like Sherlock however a year without John caused him to recollect their memories together.
A week had passed since the encounter, and Sherlock had grown deeply unhappy and much more obsessed with the memories. He took to writing them down, making music about them, and even attempting to draw them. He eventually managed to fill an entire notepad with stories, scores and sketches. Molly had grown deeply concerned with Sherlock's peculiar behaviour and encouraged him to speak to John.
"Sherlock, why don't you call him?"
"I don't call people, Molly, I text."
"Text him then."
Sherlock turned to Molly and sighed. "He told me to get out, Molly. He doesn't want me around anymore."
Molly looked up at him, slightly exasperated. "Sherlock, how will you know if you don't try? Mrs Hudson was happy when you went and saw her, I'm sure John will be equally as happy to take you back in. He was just shocked."
Sherlock sighed once again and reached for his phone. "Fine," he muttered, his fingers hovering over John's name. "I'll try."