Can you believe. This. Show.
John asked if he’d be seeing her again. Sherlock played a farewell tune instead. John and Sherlock both know everything that was said at Battersea. So John thinks he has a chance. Sherlock plays violin some more but later excuses himself to bed, leaving John to contemplate everything that’s happened and try to sleep, disregarding the tension in the air. The next day (as goes John’s blog), they are out, just the two of them, John picking up wine from the market, thinking “this is it, today is my day, everything is going perfectly, I’ll lay it on thick”. Sherlock invites John to his room, John brings the wine and his “A” game, only go be stopped dead in his tracks. Then John has to watch as Sherlock and Irene share a few moments. Not only is he jealous, he’s confused, thinking he was the one who Sherlock chose. But then Sherlock starts to ignore them both, sitting in his chair, plucking the song he wrote for Irene on his violin. John can’t take it anymore. He complains to Irene about how Sherlock doesn’t notice when he leaves, sometimes talking aloud to no one. John leaves the flat in defeat, making sure to stay out for a few hours or maybe even all night, because Irene stayed in Sherlock’s robe and made no attempt to get dressed. John knew she would only take it off for one reason. And he couldn’t bear to see that happen.