He'd had enough of looking weak the past couple years. Now he was trying desperately to put it behind him. He wanted to move on with his life and every time he tried the seal threw Sherlock Holmes back in his face. Now he was alive? What was John supposed to think about that? How was he supposed to feel? Everyone probably expected him to be happy, but how could he? Sherlock was dead, but no apparently he was faking it. Everyone but him knew he was faking it and Sherlock obviously didn't do a thing to fix it.
He was hurt and angry. Not sure in which order, probably both at the same time really. He rubbed his temple slightly and his blond brows furrowed as he tried to keep it together. "I know what it is to be pulled away from everything you love. How could I?" He didn't like talking in that bar. It belonged to friends, ones who'd helped him more than he'd like to acknowledge-but it made things harder for him to focus.
"Can we talk outside?" No matter what it was he did, he tried to avoid bars entirely these days. Any venue he knew there was going to be alcohol, if he was able he didn't go near it. "I duno why entirely. It's mad I know. This place."