"Sherlock, you need to eat something tonight. Please?"
He shakes his head slowly, hand trailing down to rest on my head. I lie down when he taps on my head, curling up under his chair and listening to the strained conversation above me. A knock at the door startles everyone, Sherlock doesn't even flinch. Mycroft gets up and answers it, leading a crying John into the room. Sherlock instantly stands, glaring at his brother and taking Johns hand as the three of us go upstairs. Greg and Mycroft remain in the dining room, neither of them try to follow us.
"What happened?"
"Nothing, it's fine."
I can sense the lie as soon as he tells it, a faint smell of blood mingles with the thick smell of alcohol that clings to his clothes.
"John?"
Sherlock's voice is laced with worry, tears brimming in his eyes as John sits down on the bed. He closes the distance between them suddenly, John pulling Sherlock closer and connecting their lips in a hungry kiss. They are both shocked as they rest their foreheads together, neither of them pulling back as they breathe the same air between them.
"Sorry...I...I..."
Sherlock kisses him this time, his movements slow and unsure, but I sense the spike in emotion from both of them as I leave the room to go back downstairs where I am sure to find Iris.
