Sherlock had once again been completely insensitive, and I for one, couldn't be bothered anymore. I loved the man more than he would ever understand, but today I had already been in a bad mood, and he just made it worse.
We'd been silent for over four hours now, with me reading quietly, and him simply sitting there, with steepled hands and a blank expression. Normally I would be wondering what he was thinking about, but today I knew. I knew he was just being stubborn, for when he'd realised I wouldn't talk to him, he said, "Two can play at that game," and hadn't spoken since.
The silent treatment was a ridiculous thing that we were both too old for, but his age never stopped him from being completely childish, so I don't see why it should have stop me now.
"Still not speaking?" John asked, as he wandered through to the kitchen.
We both looked up, straight faces, glanced at each other, and returned to our thoughts. I could feel each beat of my heart as though it were my last. My resolve was cracking, but I'd come too far to give up now.
"Well I can't stand this," John continued alone, "so I'm going out for a bit. You too better have sorted this out before I get back."
Sherlock shot him a look of 'or what?' and I smiled gently, letting John know it would be over soon. My face turned to stone as Sherlock glanced over, but I could tell he'd caught my look of confidence, by the way he set his jaw firmly.
You're not going to win this one, Holmes, is all I could think as I heard John leave the building. Before going, I heard him warn Mrs Hudson not to come upstairs, and I made a mental note to thank the both of them later.
The silence that now filled the room was insurmountable; all I could hear was my own breathing, and as annoying as that was getting, I was not going to give up.
Another hour passed this way, before I heard Sherlock stand, and pace towards me. My heart rate quickened, and blood rushed to my head. I had no idea how this was going to go, but as he got closer, I felt no anger or upset emanating from him. My nerves slowly calmed, but my heart didn't.
Before I knew it, he was stood over me. I looked up properly from my book and questioned him with my eyes.
He leaned down slowly, hands on the chair, one each side of me. I could feel his breath on my skin as he leaned ever closer and kissed my forehead. It wasn't much, but it sent shivers down my spine. He knew exactly what he was doing as he leaned into my ear and in his deep voice whispered, "Well played. I'm sorry," before wandering away to his room.
