"Sherlock?" John rapped on the door tentatively. Sherlock didn't answer, so John pushed the door open slowly. The genius was folded up in his armchair, his hands steepled under his chin, lost in deep thought. Gladstone slipped past John's legs and ran into the room in a tornado of excited fluff. He wiggled a little, before letting out an excited bark, snapping Sherlock out of his thoughts. "I didn't mean to make you upset. We can take Gladstone to the pound tomorrow." He scooped the bulldog pup up into his arms.
Sherlock just shook his head. "It's not the dog. It was- it was nothing." He unfolded himself and pulled the dog into his arms. "I think he'll make a good edition to the flat." The puppy squirmed in his arms and licked his face sloppily. "He's an excitable fellow, isn't he?"
Gladstone barked again, before Sherlock set him on the floor, and he skittered out of the room to explore his new home more. "What's wrong, then?" John asked, handing him a mug of tea he'd made for himself, but decided Sherlock needed it more.
"Just some stress at school. End of term and all that."
"Well, it'll be over soon. I ordered in thai tonight, if that's ok. I didn't feel like cooking, or eating whatever attempt you would make at it." John smiled and went out into the kitchen.
Sherlock sighed deeply. He couldn't tell John that he'd been threatened by a murderer, John was his oldest friend, and he didn't want to worry him. Still. Moriarty needed to be stopped and it looked like Sherlock was going to have to be the one to do it.
That night was spent without sleep, and with his wand clutched tight to his chest. He was going to have confront this man again at school tomorrow, and he could only hope it would go as planned.
