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"I would like some," he heard Renée say in response. He smiled to himself, grateful to have her there. "Are we all just going to pretend that didn't happen?" John asked. "Sherlock was just teaching me the Violin." Sherlock had to stifle his laugh over Renée's remark. "It seems you were doing more than just that," John said, glaring at Sherlock as he entered the room with the tea. "How long has this been going on?" Sherlock poured himself some tea and stood near the chair that Renée was sitting in. "Since the mishap at the hospital," she replied, so softly that Sherlock almost missed it.
"That was nearly two weeks ago!" John stated, obviously angry that Sherlock hadn't made mention of anything. "Why didn't you tell me?" John asked, the question directed at Sherlock. Sherlock stared into his tea, trying to find the words to say to John. Silence fell over the room as he attempted to find them. "I have to get to work," Renée said as she finished her tea, standing up to leave. "Renée, sit down. You took the night off," John snapped, and she returned to her seat. "I may not notice everything, but I'm not oblivious," he said. Sherlock couldn't help the laugh that came out of him.
"And what's so funny, Sherlock?" Sherlock smiled, his gaze turning from his tea to John. "You're quite oblivious, actually. You didn't notice what was going on. I'm quite disappointed in you, John," Sherlock noted, sipping his tea. "I will make dinner then...while you two talk." And with that, Renée went off to the kitchen, leaving John and Sherlock alone.
John took a deep breath, and Sherlock assumed he was probably trying to hold back his anger. "Sherlock," he began. "Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was calmer now. "Honestly, John. I didn't exactly know how. I wasn't exactly sure what it was. Now, I'm a little more sure, but even then, I'm not." He cleared his throat, looking into his empty teacup. He set the cup down on the table and folded his hands, placing them in his lap. "You still could've told me," John said, seemingly feeling somewhat hurt by Sherlock not confiding in him the second something happened. "I didn't have anything to say, John. Like I said, I didn't know what this was. And I still don't, completely," he said, glancing toward the kitchen where Renée was busy cooking.
"This isn't like the others ones, is it, Sherlock? You can't do that to her," John said, and Sherlock knew what he was referring to. Sherlock had a tendency to get close and seemingly intimate with women in order to get what he needed out of them, promptly breaking their heart once they were of no more use. "No, John. I don't think so." He looked John in the eyes, hoping that he would believe him. Sherlock hoped that Renée hadn't heard John's last question. He didn't want a single seed of doubt planted in her head about his feelings for her. He also hoped that she would finish soon; he was feeling uncomfortable but knew that John wasn't going to let him leave the situation.
Hex Code: #B22222