John sighed, feeling a sting of defeat. He had missed the moment, Sherlock had gone back into his shell. This might take more drastic measures than he had meant to use when he walked downstairs. He let a gentle hand go into Sherlock’s hair, moving the messy curls away from his pale face. “Sherlock, I’m not afraid of change, alright?” It was a soft comment. The doctor didn’t want to scare Sherlock any more away than he already was.
Slowly, the ever changing eyes slid shut. He liked the touches that passed between his flatemate and himself, despite the fact he would never actively admit it. The soft tone that John’s voice had took scared and comforted him. “I’m not either, you know.”
Sherlock certainly looked more relaxed. John pulled the violin from his hands, setting it aside. “I didn’t think you were” He continued, moving back to Sherlock, in front of him this time. He had nabbed the strawberry jam on his way back, and turned the jar over in his hands. The doctor dropped into a crouch, leveling his height with his seated flatmate. There were a few questions he needed answering. “Will you be honest with me?”
“When have I not been?” His head stayed on it’s place where it had lolled. His fingers plucked at the place the violin had been, music still sounding from the depths of his mind. The slight tremor in his hands told that he needed a hit of nicotine, or something, to keep himself distracted. Damnable withdrawals.