"But I want it now!" Sherlock said rather stubbornly, his brow furrowing at the idea of poor Watson and poor John's friend being all alone, waiting for someone to come and save them. "Oh... Poor Watson." He murmured, his voice cracking again as he slunk away from John rather slowly, rather reluctantly.

He collapsed in the seat again and curled up into a tight little ball of sulky moodiness, burrowing his head beneath his arms and hiding underneath his coat. From beneath came his muffled voice. "Just don't bother acknowledging me then. I'll sit here. By myself. Alone. Because no one understands me."