Sherlock slammed the door to the currently dark flat and stormed up the stairs. John scuttled after his partner timidly and entered the living room. The doctor's stomach started to churn as the detective gave him a cold glare from across the room.
"Sherlock, it wasn't what it looked like."
"Oh really?" Sherlock shook his head and laughed an un-humoured laugh under his breath.
The detective ceased the gun from his back pocket and scratched the back of his head. After a moment or so, he aimed the gun at the faded-yellow smiley face on the wall and shot at it numerous times. John didn't do anything to stop him; he just stayed fixed on the spot and watched the love of his life handle a situation the way he does.
Seconds later Sherlock attempted intimidation and towered over John. "So, you just happened to have his number scribbled on the back of your hand then?"
"I-I..."
"I'm not stupid, John." And those were the last words Sherlock said before he stormed out of the dead-aired flat.
It took John a couple of seconds to adjust to what had just happened. All he could do was stay in exactly the same place as he was and stare at the door that was close to falling off its hinges. Suddenly, a rush of guilt flooded over the doctor's body. Tears filled the man's eyes and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Little did John know that those words Sherlock had just said were the last words John was ever going to hear from his boyfriend.
What had he done?
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Sorry it's so incredibly short! I haven't updated in so long so I felt bad...so I wrote a sad short-short story!
Woo!
~Rosie x