The flat was quiet. There were mugs in the sink filled with strange liquids. Something smelled. John sighed as he put the grocery bags down. He had to push aside a jar of eyeballs to fit the milk.
It was good to have Sherlock back.
"John," a voice, Sherlock's voice, called from the living room. John went to look for him and found him upside down in an armchair. "Did you get milk?"
"Yes, of course, Sherlock," John replied cheekily.
"No rows?" A small smile crept over Sherlock's face.
"No rows."
"And cigarettes?" Sherlock asked as John moved to sit down. John sighed again.
"Sherlock, I told you I'm not going to buy you cigarettes."
"Oh come on, John," Sherlock urged in a voice that usually helped him get his way. John, however, was having none of it.
"It's a bad habit. What happened to your patches?"
"The patches are boring."
John opened his mouth to reply as the door to the flat swung open. Sebastia entered, kicked off her shoes, then climbed over the back of the couch and curled herself into John's side in what seemed like one fluid motion. Instead of continuing his argument, he placed a kiss on the top of her head.
"Hello."
"Hello," she replied, adding, "Hello, Sherlock," after a long pause.
He groaned back at her.
"He's upset," John explained.
"Yes, I caught that. What's wrong this time?"
"John won't buy me cigarettes," Sherlock said at the same time that John said, "I won't buy him cigarettes."
She uttered a soft 'ah,' then fell silent and promptly fell asleep.
The rest of the evening was quiet. The soft rain and the noise from John's program were enough to drown out Sherlock's groaning and Sebastia's soft snores.
The flat was noisy. Sherlock was in the kitchen with his vials and his chemicals and all those other things he tinkered with. John had to slide past him to get to the fridge. He opened the fridge to put the milk in, but there was something large and wrapped that John decided he didn't want to touch.
"Sherlock, I don't want to know what this is, I just want you to move it."
"Did you get cigarettes?" Sherlock asked as her shoved aside an old carton of berries and slid the suspicious package next to it.
John chuckled and shook his head. "What do you think?"
Sherlock pursed his lips and was about to start whining when the door to the flat swung open. Sebastia entered, kicked off her shoes, threw something at Sherlock that he just managed to catch, climbed over the back of the couch and curled herself into a ball. John glanced from the couch to Sherlock, frowning at the pack of cigarettes Sherlock was opening.
"Sebastia," he exclaimed, and her head poked up over the back of the couch.
"Yes?" she asked innocently.
"You got him cigarettes?"
She shrugged.
John looked from one to the other and sighed.
"I need a cuppa."
