A/N:This story was based on this prompt given to me on tumblr: "Sherstrade and confused".
Regular Thing
The first time, Greg wasn't exactly sure what happened. He'd woken up with a terrible headache, and an unfamiliar warmth at his side. He blinked a few times to wipe the blur from his vision, and a long, slim body with a mop of dark curls at the top came into focus. No man had ever run faster than he did as he exited Sherlock's apartment.
The second time wasn't until long after that. And this time he knew what was going on. Well, he didn't really know, so much as just kind of speculate. It started with a stare, and then there was a touch. And then suddenly there were sheets and sweat and sounds.
It became a regular thing, somehow, and Greg wasn't sure if they should stop or keep going. It appeared that Sherlock wasn't using anymore, or at least as often, and that was good. But he had to wonder if it was a good idea to snuff out one addiction and replace it with another, and then find himself addicted as well.