"What!?" John drops the dishrag that he was holding with a pathetic thump onto the floor. Sherlock turns his back to John and places his hands on the counter with his head hung low in defeat. "Please, John let me..."  John cuts sherlock off before he can even begin the last mutterings of his sentence. "No Sherlock. Don't you dare say another word." furiously waving his finger at Sherlock's turned back. "You don't get to say anything. Do you realize what you've done?! You have just ruined any form of trust I had with you. You, you arrogant bastard! Dragging me around causing all the worry for what, your own entertainment? Maybe Anderson and Donovan were right. You were going to get bored and do something like this. Make a big elaborate plan and make a murder out of it just to keep yourself entertained. I am disgusted Sherlock." 

Sherlock couldn't bring himself to face John, so he stayed with his back turned and his long pale hands gripping the counter so tightly that his knuckles shone through his skin and the veins and tendons bulged. He stood there at the counter for what felt like only a few moments with these thoughts and emotions that he didn't quite understand running through his head at breakneck speed.  Turns out that he had stood at the counter long enough for John to haphazardly pack his things into a duffle and leave the flat. Sherlock only then turned around when he heard the creek of the flat door open and just catch a glimpse of the small army doctors back as he was leaving the flat. As he left John shut the door with a bang that shook Sherlock to the bone. 

Weeks passed, and John still hadn't come back to the apartment. Sherlock became even more of a recluse. Refusing cases from Lestrade, and didn't even move out of his chair while the construction crew came in to finally fix the wall.  He just sat there tense, hands gripping the armrests of the chair and staring at the door that leads to his former flatmate's room. On a particularly sunny day, Sherlock heard a knock on the front door. He moves the dusty curtain lightly with his long finger and looked out the window to see Mycroft's car parked on the road, Still running. Sherlock grabbed his coat, scarf and slipped his pistol in his pocket and walked downstairs to the door.  Sherlock reached the door just as Mrs.Hudson was about to open it. "No need Mrs. Hudson, this is for me." With that Sherlock flung open the door only to be standing face to face with his elder brother.

"Well, shall we then?" Mycroft said motioning towards the sleek black car.  Sherlock looked Mycroft up and down and with a nod of his head, he walked towards the vehicle.  

"Put on some weight I see brother. Hows the diet going?" Sherlock said as he flung open the car door and sat inside. 

Mycroft clasped both his hands on the top of his umbrella and with a sigh said, "Charming as ever my dear brother."