John really tried to use the Bathroom only as punishment, honestly Toby hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't deserve to be ignored, but John wasn't in the mood to really play with him either. John was very nearly tempted to lock the door behind her, but they were in an apartment complex. Most people seemed at least trustworthy enough to stay out unless invited, so he tried to relax a little and just gave her a small smile. "You didn't have to do that." As he said those words however his stomach betrayed him and growled. He hadn't been eating very well, but he imagined most weren't with all the attacks. "...What is it?" He asked as he peered curiously at the tin. He did like her cooking, after Sherlock had died she'd cooked often for him. Freddie was a lucky man, even in his lowest points he could rarely resist her food.
He didn't even tense anymore when it came to Florence hugging him, he wasn't a very touchy feely sort of guy but with her and Rose he didn't mind. He even hugged her back, for a minute just relaxing. He could be himself around her. At least he thought he could, some of the things Jacen had said however were still nudging the back of his mind. His friends were there out of pity. He didn't want to be some sort of charity case. "'Course you don't." She was one of the few who didn't. Anyone else save for Rose who lived there now would have been told to sod off or get out whatever came to mind first. He was angry at the world, but he hoped it really didn't show that much. Of course knowing Florence she'd be able to tell anyway.
Toby bothered Florence's feet for a while until he was given the attention he demanded and then padded off. "No, it's all right. How about a cuppa?" He looked over at her for a moment and then at the door. He was supposed to go to Sherlock's a couple days before and just hadn't been able to leave or even tell the man. Florence reminded him that there was still a world outside his flat. Sherlock's scarf was hung over one of the chairs on the table. It hadn't even been touched since at least a couple months ago, He'd been rather good at not going for it even though there were times he felt he still needed it. It just remained in the box that was now open on the kitchen table. Inside that box was a stained jacket, pair of gloves, and a few other clothing items Sherlock had owned. But John favored the scarf. He always had. It was taken care of meticulously. If anything ever happened to it, who knew what John would do.