Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock nor the characters.
Jotted this down during chemistry class... 'cause I'm full of dumb scenarios.
As soon as John entered the room, Sherlock grimaced, which didn't go unnoticed. His sharp features CLEARLY scrunched up in disgust. "What?" John questioned, meeting the detective's pale gaze.
"What were you doing last night?" Sherlock asked in a falsely innocent voice.
The man stiffened, but held his chalky stare. "I was with a friend," he responded dismissively.
"And?" the genius persisted.
John averted his dark eyes. "Nothing."
"Don't lie to me. You know it doesn't work." Sherlock's tone was slightly heated.
"Does it matter?" John raise his hands without thought; a subconscious mannerism. "I'm allowed to have a little fun every once in awhile!"
"Aren't the cases satisfying enough?" the raven-haired man inquired.
John laughed in disbelief. "Bloody hell. Unlike you, I don't get off on crimes!"
Sherlock remained silent for a moment. For once, his mind paused... the normal processes ceased for a minute.
"I don't know how you deal with ... those sorts of urges- and frankly, I don't WANT to know- but you can't stop me from enjoying that side of life."
Nothing else was said as John stalked out of the room. He didn't look back to see the frustration displayed on Sherlock's face.