AN: Again, thank you for all the favourites and subsriptions ^^ It makes me all warm and fluffy knwing that other people like what I write x
Short chapter, but I wanted to end it on a cliffhanger ;)
CHAPTER 6
John had hardly ever seen Sherlock for the past few days. If it weren't for the occasional addition of a body part in the fridge or an unwashed mug in the sink, he probably wouldn't have been able to tell he was there at all. Even when he was present, he was cold and aloof to John, often retiring into his room without a word; It was like the past two weeks had never existed. As John washed the tea-stained mugs in the sink, he sighed heavily at the sudden regression in their relationship. He thought long and hard as to what may have caused the growing void, but his cold, that he had only recently recovered from, led to a lack of clarity towards any occurences within the past week.
John and Sherlock's second year of uni quietly arrived, without any progression between the two. The first week proceeded, slowly, quietly and without any happenings and John was getting fed up and hurt by his austere roommate.
It was the first lab in the year, but Sherlock was not excited. He sighed as he arduously carried out insturctions, his heart still ached with guilt and his already restricted emotions had dulled,
"Sherlock, are you ok?" asked his mousy lab partner, Molly, as she smiled at him. He looked at her briefly before returning to inspect his microscope,
"Fine." he said coarsely,
"Tell me what's wrong," she persisted. He looked at her in annoyance, still gripping the microscope,
"I said I was fine Molly,"
"I know you're not Sherlock," she placed her hand gently on his back for comfort, "You can tell me,"
"What would telling you do?" he retorted, "I don't need warm milk and a hug, that's all unecessary nonsense that you dull people do to wallow in self-pity while you fish for compliments." He gave her a cold stare and returned to his work. Molly smiled, although hurt by the bitter remark, and the rest of the session continued silently with an acrid atmosphere.
John's day at university went on mechanically as his mind was constantly filled with thoughts of Sherlock. The lectures went by slowly, and his hand ached from taking notes. He waved good bye to his friends, and sighed heavily whilst making his way home; he hated how lonely Sherlock made him feel. It was a cold day, and John hated the public transport; if only he had brought enough cash for a fare. The air was crisp, and the light of cars passing glistened on the pavement. As he walked down the street, he was met with an queer sight: the pavement had been blocked off for a good 100 meters for roadworks, but there was not a soul on site. Not wanting to kick up a fuss, he decided to accept it and took the quieter, alternate route. Although quieter, the route was in no way attractive; Sloppy graffiti splattered grey walls, and gum coated the floors. As John contiued the detour, he didn't have much time to take in the scenery before he felt the pressure of a damp cloth on his face and the inability to stay conscious.
Sherlock had stayed out, wandering aimlessly. He couldn't bring himself to go home, he couldn't see John's face just yet. As he took in the city air, he felt the buzz of a new text message:
I WANT TO PLAY A GAME SHERLOCK HOLMES.
Before he could make any sense of it, he had recieved another,
I'VE BEEN ON YOUR SITE, YOU LIKE CODES DON'T YOU SHERLOCK?
He texted simply "Of course." in reply and strolled to Regents Park, waiting for his mysterious texter to respond. It was getting dark, and Sherlock tightened his scarf as the temperature dropped and each breath brought out warm puffs of condensation. As he reached the gated of the Park, he finally recieved the vibration in his pocket that he had been waiting for.
WELL HERE'S ONE FOR YOU THEN:
"Gary made a phone call for his friend Oliver. But he was away, so his PA Haley took the message for Oliver, which meant the message was sent to his company in Manchester, called EditorKeys. The message told him to get his cousin Nelson's sister, Ophelia, to Waterloo station.
SO THE QUESTION IS SHERLOCK, WHAT DO YOU DO NOW?