The umbrella (Johnlock)

Chapter Three.

Sherlock and I didn't talk the next day. It was very awkward to even be in the same room as him. He wasn't doing much. He was mostly just sitting in his chair, staring into that non-existing void, or well his eyes sure looked like they were staring into oblivion. It didn't even look like he was thinking. His face was completely emotionless. Well, more than it usually was.

I felt the pressure in the back of my head that said " Do something." But I couldn't.

I spend the most of the day in my room working on my blog, and when I finally got out, it was only to take a wee, get a glass of water, have a cup of tea or to eat. But Sherlock literally sat there all day, looking so empty. I wasn't going to try to talk to him, not because of the little event last night, but because I knew it would be pointless to even try. Of course he wasn't going to answer me.

It was first at about 4 pm, when a package arrived for Sherlock, that he finally said something.

"John." He mumbled as he was opening it on the floor. I was standing in the kitchen with a cup of tea in my hand. I put the up on the counter, and walked over so I was standing beside him. I knew he needed me.

It was Mycroft's umbrella.

Sherlock looked at it for a little while, before he put it down in the box, and took the box inside of his room. He slammed the door behind him. I stood there, looking at the door to his room. I didn't knew if he was crying. I couldn't hear anything. I looked down and saw a letter on the floor. He had probably dropped it from the package. I picked it up. On the other side of the envelope, it said "Sherlock Holmes". For just a second, i was wondering if i should read it. But it was Sherlock's, I thought and walked over to the door leading to his room. I stood there for 5 seconds, before I called out his name. "Sherlock?" I said. The door opened immediately, and out came Sherlock. "Yes?" He said in a cold harsh voice. He was looking down at me, his face only 5 inches away from mine, and at that second, some odd flame was lit inside me. A weird feeling in the lowest pit of my stomach.

"Uh.. um." I stuttered. "Damn it, what was I gonna say?" I thought. He looked me right in the eyes. I noticed how beautiful his dark curls where when my eyes flickered around from pure nervousness,  I and  caught myself opening my mouth. I closed it and continued: "Are you okay?". He kept looking into my eyes. He closed his eyes, and nodded. He looked into the ground. "Sherlock, I know you don't need my pity.. But-" He interrupted me and looked up again. "Then shut up." he almost hissed at me. "I'm sorry Sherlock." I said with a little voice. I looked into the ground. "I just thought it would be a good idea to talk."

Sherlock cupped my face in one hand, and lead my face up so that he could look me in the eyes." I haven't said cinnamon yet, have I?" 

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