Three months.

It's been three months since the last case you, Sherlock, and Watson solved.

Lord Blackwood, with some sort of obsession for black magic, had tried to kill his sixth young woman. Luckily you three had stopped him. and today was the day of his hanging.

Holmes had not left his room in at least two weeks, now. Luckily, Watson and you lived in the rooms beside his, keeping an eye on him all the time.

"I assure you, sir, it's possibly just a neighbour hammering a painti-"

BANG!

Watson flinched when the gun went off for the fifth time this afternoon. He sighed, exiting his office with his client following after. The nanny of the house, whom no one actually knew the name of, stood outside Sherlock's room. "I'm too frightened to go in there." She said, her hands shaking. Of course she was. The world's greatest detective was playing with a gun.

"I assure you, it'll be alright. Go get him something to cheer him up, yeah?" Watson said softly, letting both his client and the nanny wander off to do their own stuff. He sighed, knocking on the door of the "study,; which was really just the attic that Sherlock lived in.

"Permission to enter the armoury?" Watson asked, peeking his head through the door. Holmes answered with a tired "yes," letting Watson walk in. Met with the sight of Sherlock and his gun, trying to muffle the sound of the gunshot.

"I'm making great work, Watson. I'm attempting to muffle the sound of a gunshot." He said proudly, obviously coming down from the affects of some drug, or just being an idiot. Watson grumbled, grabbing the gun, before placing it on the table and opening the blinds.

Sherlock hissed, but Watson continued on, ignoring the poor detective's migraine. "Watson, please- be gentle with me-" He mumbled, before hissing once again as more light hit him, and he fell off his chair.

"Newspaper." Watson said as Sherlock crawled over, grabbing the paper and reading through it. "{{User}}!" Watson then called, looking around the messy room. "Come help me out with the idiot!"