Sherlock was rifling through the drawers in the kitchen, tipping their contents on to the floor and table. John knew his search was fruitless.
"Where have you hidden them this time?!" Sherlock sounded strained. He ran into the living room and tore the place up, then he moved into his own bedroom. John heard various items being upturned and thrown everywhere.
He was looking for cigarettes which weren't there. John looked on smugly as Sherlock stomped back into view.
"I'll get the milk for a week!" he declared, his eyes wide and imploring.
"Nope." Was the reply.
"Pleeeeease!" Sherlock attempted to look like a forlorn puppy; he didn't quite carry it off. John merely raised an eyebrow at him with an annoying Admit-It-You've-Lost expression.
"There are none here, Sherlock. You'd be better off giving up now before Mrs. Hudson has your hide for the mess."
"I don't believe you" came the stubborn reply from somewhere under the sofa. Suddenly he took off in the direction of John's room. John followed him closely.
"Don't you dare, Sherlock! My room is tidy." It wasn't destined to remain that way however. John watched as Sherlock rummaged. He suddenly pulled a packet out of its hiding place.
"AHA!" He cried triumphantly and opened them, but inside there were only white candy sticks. John giggled. "Bollocks."