What's in a name?
It was just another ordinary day in 221B Baker Street. Sherlock had just finished a case for DI Lestrade, and was laying on the sofa and catching up on some reading from the journals he had delivered on a regular basis.
John was sat in his usual chair reading the paper and relaxing after a gruelling few days chasing after criminals with Sherlock through the London streets.
'Hmm, I could just do with a nice cup of tea', John thought to himself and putting the newspaper down on the coffee table beside his chair, he got up and made his way to the kitchen.
Once there he began going through the routine of making tea. He filled the kettle from the tap and put it on to boil, as he was reaching into the cupboard for his mug he hesitated.
'Sherlock, do you want a cuppa, I'm just making one for myself?' John called through to the living room.
There was no reply, so John huffed to himself, turned around and went to the doorway between the living room and kitchen.
Sherlock was still laying on the sofa, reading.
'Sherlock, Sher, do you want a cup of tea?' asked John again.
This time Sherlock looked across at John with a quizzical expression on his face.
'Did you just call me Sher?' asked Sherlock.
'Erm, yeah, is that okay, I mean if you'd rather I didn't then I won't do it again.' Said John, a worried expression on his face.
'No ... it's ... fine' replied Sherlock, 'why Sher?'
'Well we've known each other a while and I dunno, it's friendlier I guess. If it's going to be a problem though, I don't have to, I can go back to calling you Sherlock if you prefer.' John assured him.
'No it's good, just don't call me Sherly,' replied Sherlock with a little smile.
John grinned and asked (for the third time) 'so did you want a cup of tea then or not?'
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