DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sherlock, or any of the characters (I should be so lucky)

John likes tea.

He likes the memories. Tea reminds him of pre-Sherlock days; soothing his nerves in army training, dampening his uni morning hangovers, bolstering his late-night rushes to finish essays. Sometimes all it takes is a tense atmosphere and a sip of tea and he's cooling his heels in arid Afghanistan once again. He was a soldier, after all, with a quiet soldier's love for his country and its rain and rolling hills and he never felt more British than when had a cup of tea to hand, even if he was camped out somewhere in the Jalalabad basin.

He likes the comfort of tea. On cold nights or during particularly difficult cases he's partial to a cup of Twinings to boost his flagging strength before dashing out of the door after an indefatigable Sherlock. There's something to be said for the effect of tea on enthusiasm, he thinks, and he intends to bring up his hypothesis with Sherlock soon: maybe the next time he's got that dangerous-experiment look in his eye. It'll be a nice diversion for him to test. After all, nobody ever blew up a kitchen with tea.

More than all that, though, he likes the way that tea is beginning to mean something entirely different now he's living with Sherlock. It's becoming the currency of care. John's never been very good at saying what he feels and he likes to think of the cups that he brews for Sherlock as the words he can never quite bring to his lips. Thank you. You saved me. I'm so grateful. Don't leave. He's never quite sure if Sherlock understands his caffeinated missives, but he doesn't mind. And he doesn't expect.

So the first time that Sherlock gently pushes a warm mug into John's hands as he collapses in a post-clinic heap on the kitchen table, it takes a second for him to process, and before he can do anything Sherlock has already brushed past him silently to stand in the doorway to the living area.

As he raises the cup he catches the twinkle in Sherlock's eye, paused as he is at the doorframe. And just like that, John knows, he just knows that he holds in his hands Sherlock's tangible thank you too.

John smiles and settles down to drink his tea.

FIN.