We're getting into our final major story arc here, the last one before Tea Leaves comes to an end. Can't wait to take you guys for the ride.
Fix Him
Sherlock looked down at the phone in his hand, plastic bags draped over his arm, groceries weighing unpleasantly on his forearm. The apples in the bag were cutting off circulation and making his arm red, but he had other things on his mind.
His brain kept replaying the sound of John's weary, irritated voice. I don't know how to fix this, but I will somehow.
His phone buzzed again, grabbing his attention. After reading the text, his eyes slowly widened and he looked toward the direction of the flat, pained expression on his face.
John wouldn't be having dinner with him that night.
The prompt was from CrimsonDuchess, and it was: apples