A/N: Bottom. Please Read (It's my sincere apology.)

John was constantly worried about Sherlock. In his mind, that was his obligation.

But there was something else about this time, something different.

He noticed it one day when they were getting ready to go to the morgue, due to a case Les Stroud had recently dumped on their plates. Sherlock was avoiding John's gaze. He could barely look in his direction. He hardly spoke unless spoken to, which was most alarming, and he even said John could leave halfway through because he was "unneeded."

Something was troubling Sherlock, but John couldn't figure out what.

John had been quite alone for the past few days. Sherlock was gone for almost the full day, and would come back late at night, only to play his violin and retire to his bed.

It wasn't strange that Sherlock should be out at odd hours, since he went wherever he pleased, whenever he pleased, but to block out John, and hardly whisper a word to him wasn't usual.

John had tried, but he couldn't get near him. There was no way to break the sudden barrier that blocked him out, no matter what he did.

Mycroft let out a wholehearted laugh.

"Cheer? You can't cheer him up! He doesn't do cheer."

John's fingers were tapping anxiously on the table. It was bad enough that he had to consult Mycroft in the first place, but to see him laughing about such a serious matter to him was even worse. He was all to eager to push back his chair and walk out the café door.

"Yes. What can I do to cheer him up?" John asked through gritted teeth.

"He's probably just being Sherlock. Its not like he didn't do this with me."

John tried to refrain from rolling his eyes.

That's because you're brothers, he thought. And also because you're a prick. This is different.

"Why do you put up with him anyway?" Mycroft asked, taking a sip of his coffee. He was amused by this conversation. "I mean he was bad enough as a kid, but at this age, I don't understand how you can bear to live with that man. You have the choice, why don't you just move out. You don't have to deal with him you know."

John smacked his hands on the table with such force that Mycroft's coffee dripped down the side of its cup.

"You don't understand, do you? You really, really don't."

John got out of his seat without another word. He left Mycroft sitting in the café a little bit shocked by Johns out burst.

He expected John to be a bit annoyed, but he didn't expect that John would get so frustrated.

He was, after all, just playing with him.

Water was starting to seep in through Johns shoe. The rain had let up a while ago, leaving large puddles in its place. John didn't care, however.

He had been handling the situation well, just giving Sherlock some space, but it was slowly eating away at him- the curiosity, the frustration; it all piled up the past few days that now it was starting to show.

Johns phone vibrated in his pocket. He reached down and pulled it out, subconsciously wiping the screen so he could read it better.

Cinnamon Rolls

MH

John put the phone back in his coat pocket and kept walking, only this time, he knew where he was going.

Authors Note:

Really bad I know, and I am so sorry. I feel ashamed... I've had such horrible writers block lately. I will probably re write the entire thing again and delete this, so let's just call this my "rough copy."

This isn't the end; I'm going to hopefully have the second chapter out soon, like tomorrow or Monday.

I hope it was some what... 'Decentish' for writing so late at night...

I'm working on it no worries.

Thanks to everyone who reads this anyway, all of your comments have been so nice! You all are so great!

-Sab