"It's not that I don't care," John says, almost as if talking above Sherlock. "I wanted to get how you work from the start, of course I did. But I... I don't know." He shrugs, shakes his head, helplessly. "I got distracted, all the time, I suppose."

Honestly, he can't claim to always know where he's going when he storms out either. It's always just... somewhere. Because he's told himself there will always be someone, no matter how distant a friend. It's not that strange, even if a bit towards... teenager years, perhaps. Still. He was a medical student, and then he went to Afghanistan, so maybe he's not all that caught up with how you socialise in your mid-thirties. No one's ever seemed to mind, at least, so perhaps he's not that far off.

Still. He has to wonder.