John sighed. Sherlock was in a Mood and talking wouldn't help.

"Alright, what are you waiting on at the moment?" he asked instead.

"I feel like I'm waiting for this bloody country to get its act together and make some bloody sense already," Sherlock groused.

"Apart from that." John shook his head, amused. This was one doozy of a temper tantrum, even for Sherlock.

"Solving this case should be everyone's priority, should it not?" Sherlock asked, looking at John.

"We've been over this, Sherlock," John said patiently. "Not everyone moves at your speed. And you don't have to do paperwork."

"This isn't about that," Sherlock said. "People should want this case solved, yes? Then why would someone get upset over the means to the end?"

"Because your means are harsh," John said bluntly. "You don't have any inter-personal skills, and you come off as lofty, uncaring, brutish, and demanding. That's bound to rub anyone the wrong way."

Sherlock paused.

"I've never needed such things in the past," he pointed out. "And Lestrade listens just fine."

"Yes, but if you'll recall, he spent a while hating you and he's tried to arrest you multiple times," John pointed out. "You're not the easiest person in the world to get along with."

Sherlock grumbled under his breath, although he did finally stop pacing and sit down in an armchair.

John knew that was a good sign.

"Have you eaten?" he asked, getting up and going to check the hotel fridge to see what it had been stocked with.

"Within what time frame?" Sherlock asked in return.

"Since dinner," John said. "But that means no anyway. Here." He tossed an apple over to Sherlock.

Sherlock caught the apple and examined it for bruises and soft spots before taking a bite.

Satisfied that he was eating something, John settled down again. Sherlock could be truly infuriating sometimes.

Sherlock continued to sit and brood for a while, even after the apple was gone.

John kept trying to feed him snack stuff, since it was hard to make him sit down for a meal and eat, but he did give him time alone. He knew how Sherlock could be, and he'd be done brooding when he was done brooding. There was no rushing him.

Sherlock waved away the snack foods.

"Stop that," he said. "I don't need crisps, or cereal bars, or anything else."

"You're eating dinner later," John said. "Honestly, Sherlock, how did you survive before we moved in together?"

"I managed just fine," Sherlock replied stubbornly.

John snorted his disbelief of that but didn't actually say anything.

"I did!" Sherlock huffed. "I was fine." And Mrs. Hudson took care of him well enough, John knew that.

John shook his head and looked at his phone when he got a text from Mycroft.

"Your brother is checking in again," he said as he typed out a quick reply.

"And why should I care about that?" Sherlock asked. "Mycroft is likely the one who pulled all these strings in the first place to put us here."

"Just thought I'd tell you," John said easily. "He worries about you."