Rippled Reflections

Chapter 2

The soft melancholy tune played by Sherlock's violin did nothing to sooth the pain the detective felt. Never before had he felt so empty and hollow. Something about John made Sherlock feel like he could conquer the world, but when John wasn't there Sherlock felt like he was going to die of loneliness. He hasn't talked to John in weeks, for he was afraid that if he said anything he might slip and tell John something he didn't want to. John would never feel the same about him because John was straight. He has made that clear on several accounts. Sherlock wasn't sure what to think. He had never felt this way before he met John. It was all Sherlock could to to not tell John.

From where he was sitting he could see John walking away. He had said he was going to the market. That gives me approximately 38 minutes until he will return. 38 minutes to finish his sing. From the looks of it the storm will last six and a half more hours. That's how long I have till I have to do something or people will start to question. Sherlocks mind was running a hundred miles a second. Slowly the tall man got up and walked over to his music and began playing. 35 minutes later Sherlock put stopped playing and went back to the window to watch for John to return. Within three minutes John was walking around the corner and was approaching the door to their flat. Sherlock didn't move when he herd the door open, he just sat there looking out the window.

"I'm back Sherlock" John said as he entered the flat. Receiving no answer from Sherlock, John simply when into the kitchen and started filling the baron cupboards with the food he just purchased. Once finished with the groceries, he looked at the clock. 7:48. Figuring he wasn't going to get any responses from his flat mate John ran up to his room and sat on his bed. To pas the time he found one of his many books and began to read. Without noticing he had picked up a book he had read a million times, John settled in and began to read. Within an hour John was slightly snoring with the book on his lap.

Sherlock, still sitting in the window, herd John run upstairs after putting the food away. He sat quietly in the same spot with his hands perched under his chin in steeple position, waiting to here John's slight snore. It only took an hour to Sherlocks surprise. After that he waited maybe 15 minutes, he lost track of time when thinking about John, then slowly slipped up stairs and into Johns room.