The sound of friction on carpet informed John that someone was standing behind him. He elected not to glance up from his book, simply popping another chocolate into his mouth and flipping the page. The figure behind him did not move from its perch. There was a pause.
"What are you eating?"
"Chocolate." John replied.
Exasperated sigh. "Yes obviously- what's inside of it?"
"Caramel. Well, salted caramel. They're good."
"Mm." Silence.
Pause.
"Would you like one?"
"No. Why would I want one?"
"Alright! Just asking."
Pause.
"Salted caramel, you say?"
"Yes."
"Interesting."
"Yeah sure. Are you sure you don't want one?"
"Stop forcing your candy on me, John."
"Not 'forcing' anything on you." John grumbled.
"Eating rots my brain."
Sigh.
Pause, interrupted only by the slight crinkle of cellophane as John reached for another candy.
Sherlock did not move.
John looked up. "Can I help you?"
"What?"
"Do you need some help or something?"
"No."
A sigh. "Right. Okay."
Pause.
"So you're just going to stand behind my chair and watch me eat, then?"
Silence. Glare.
"Sherlock..?"
"Fine, I'll move!" Childish stomping back toward the kitchen.
Pause.
"You're welcome to try one, Sherlock."
"Don't want one."
"ALRIGHT!"
Silence.
Sound of things being moved around in the kitchen. Cupboard door. Clink of dishes. John has almost forgotten Sherlock is in the room when suddenly a hand taps his on the shoulder.
"Jesus, Sherlock.. don't sneak up on me like that."
"I want one."
"Excuse me?"
"I'd like one of those." He waves vaguely in the direction of the candy. John does a double take.
"Erm, yeah, of course, here..." He pours a few of the little drops into Sherlock palm, its owner looking at the chocolate morsels with curiosity. Sherlock places one in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.
"Good?"
Curt nod.
John laughs. "I'd take that as a yes."
Nod.
Sherlock carefully eats the remaining three.
John begins to close the bag. "I'm assuming you don't want any more-"
The bag is snatched from his hands, and hastily propelled (with the detective) into the depths of the sofa.
Pause.
Some minutes later, the bag is empty and John grins.
"So I guess your brain's all going to turn into rubble, then? All this eating.."
"Shut up, John." Sherlock grumbles.
"Happy Valentine's day to you too, Sherlock."