Sherlock sat at the table in the kitchen, leaning over the microscope and looking deeply into the lens. He had been at this for an hour and hadn't figured anything out. John leaned on the door frame, his arms crossing his chest, watching Sherlock. He was leaning his head against the frame, watching his boyfriend struggle to figure it out.
"Arg! I have nothing, John! Nothing!" Sherlock boomed all of a sudden, throwing a pad of paper to the floor.
"I'm sure you'll get it soon en-"
"No! Normally I could figure something out by now! Have my next move, figure out what to try next to deduce what in bloody hell this stuff is! But I just can't! I don't know what to try next! I've tried everything!" Sherlock motioned to the surrounding kitchen then stood up, pushing past John to the living room. "It's just not -there-, John! I just can't get it!"
Sherlock slumped into his arm chair, cradling his head in his fingers. John watched him from the kitchen door way. It was rare to have Sherlock this upset.
"Sherlock, if I could just make a suggestion-" John said, taking a step towards Sherlock's doubled-over form.
"No, John, you can't! You know why? Because you, like everyone else in the world, are an idiot! You don't know what in bloody hell you're doing!" Sherlock shouted, looking straight into John's eyes.
John could see his anger, his outrage, but it gave him no right to treat him this way. Angrily, he snached his coat from a chair in the kitchen, stormed over to the door, and threw it open.
"Where are you going?!" Sherlock shouted, watching him in furry as John reached for the handle to shut the door behind him.
"Out!" John shouted and slammed the door shut.
There was a second slam of a door below, then the flat was quiet. Sherlock sat there for a moment in the silence. It was driving him mad. Before he knew it, he had stood, screamed something vagily along the lines of "fucking bastard!" and had thrown the first thing his hand had found (which just happened to be a glass skull John had bought him for his birthday a week ago) against the far wall with a fatile crack!
Sherlock stood, breathing heavily for a moment, before his eyes fell on the shards of glass skull that lay across the couch and floor. His heart sank and he raced over to the pieces, picking them up and placing them in his hand.
"No, no, no, no, no!" He muttered, looking at the shards. He dropped them and leaned back to the coffee table, letting the bottom of his skull hit it. "Damn it..."
He closed his eyes and took in the silence. He just called his boyfriend an idiot and broke the best gift he's ever gotten. The skull had had his and John's names painted on the back in a small heart, now that heart lay shattered and their names spilt. When John sees this-
Sherlock rubbed his hand over his face and stood up. He stumbled over to were his phone was, picked it up, and opened a new message to John.
I'm so sorry... Please come home.
There was silence for maybe ten seconds before John's ringtone filled the flat. His heart droping again, Sherlock glided into the kitchen and scooped up the device from the table. He left it here in his haste...
Sherlock thought for a moment before jogging to put on his coat and sprinting down the stairs. He had to find John before something happened to him...