A/N: I'm baaaaaack!

Had to buy a new laptop – my old one crashed and I lost all my stories. I even lost all my Sherlock/Cumberbatch/Freeman pictures! AND THEY WERE SO BEAUTIFUL TOO! *gross sobbing* But, I digress. To make a long story short, sorry it took so long for me to update. I was suffering from extenuating circumstances. Let's just hope I can remember what I had written for this chapter. I have a feeling it was funny...

Molly set John's laptop in Sherlock's lap. "See? Try...this one. Alone on the Water should be a good place to start."

John sat beside Sherlock on the sofa and read over his shoulder, but soon gave up because Sherlock was scrolling down much too fast for him to follow. "Don't tell me you're reading that quickly. You're skimming. Cheater."

"No, m'not. Shut up."

John rubbed his lips together. "Mmm, right. Can't disturb the romantic ambiance."

Sherlock's nose wrinkled, but he otherwise showed no sign of having heard him. "Apparently I'm dying in this one."

Molly wiped her nose. "It's really good. Just wait until you get to the end."

"What am I doing pinching John's jumper?" Sherlock's lip curled, eyes moving rapidly. "Oh."

"Are you there?" Molly's voice was tremulous.

"If you're referring to the blatant romanticising of euthanasia, than yes. This is overdramatic, and..." Suddenly, he stiffened. "John."

"What?" John leaned in and squinted at the screen.

"Anderson is being kind to me...by being rude."

"What?" John's eyes scanned the bit Sherlock was pointing at, mouth slowly opening in realisation. "That's actually in character, for him. That's well done, that."

"That's exactly what he would do," Molly sniffled.

Sherlock's back was very straight, obviously ill at ease, though his face was a perfect blank. "I don't like this at all. It's...insipid."

"Accurate," John said at the same time.

"Sad," Molly chimed in.

There was silence as Sherlock continued to read, but it was abruptly shattered when the detective slammed the laptop shut in sudden disgust. But his eyes were agonisingly sad in the split instant before he managed to smooth it over with an affected sneer.

"What?" John and Molly said in unison.

Sherlock's face was a mask of grotesque revulsion. "There was kissing at the end. And crying. John, don't ever cry when I die. I suspect it would be quite repellent."

There was an awkward shuffling of feet and pillows on the sofa as John shifted uncomfortably. Molly shot him a look of sympathy.

"I didn't cry when you died," John said quietly.

Sherlock frowned.

The army doctor took in a deep, shuddering breath. "When I thought you'd committed suicide, I didn't cry. I was just frozen. Stiff. I suspect it'll be the same when...when it's real."

John rubbed his chin and fell silent.

Sherlock's brow furrowed further, and his mouth opened to reply, but Molly cut him off with an overly cheery, "You know what you need to read now, to lighten things up a bit? Flowers in a Box."

A/N: Sorry it's so short, ladies and/or gents. I've been suffering a bit from writer's block for the past couple of days, and this was the best I could muster. Let's see if I can rustle up some hilarity next, huh?

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, followed, favourited, and generally have just been amazing! You really keep me motivated and remind me how much I love to write. Til next chapter!