John looked up from his laptop shocked ad his flat-mate entered their flat, covered with sticky, red blood and holding a harpoon even taller then he was. "Well that was tedious." Sherlock exclaimed, casually, almost upset.

"You went on the tube like that?"

"None of the cabs would take me." Sherlock replied.

He was always like this in his enthusiasm over cases when he was low on his dose of nicotine. Sherlock paced the room, now cleaned of the blood and dressed in his blue silky robe, but still carrying the harpoon as he marched. "Nothing?" He asked, gesturing towards John.

"Military coo in Uganda, hmm" John chuckled, "another photo of you in the uh-" John pointed down to the picture on the front page of the weekly paper, Sherlock had the 'deer stalking hat' on and his collar tucked up. He looked rather ridiculous. Sherlock groaned.

"Umm..." John continued to read off, "Cabinet re-shuffle?"

"Nothing of importance!" Sherlock yelled, pounding the bottom of the harpoon against the floor, "God!" His expression suddenly changed as he turned to face John, "John, I need some. Get me some!"

"No."

"Get me some!"

"No!" John retorted, "Cold turkey! We agreed no matter what. Anyway, you paid everyone off remember? No one within a 2 mine radius will sell you any."

Sherlock bit at his fingernails desperately, "Stupid idea, who's idea was that?"

John coughed uncomfortably. It had been his idea.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock yelled as he started rummaging through the various papers scattered along his desk. "No!"

John sighed, "Sherlock, you're doing really well. Don't give up now!"

"Tell me where they are! Please! Tell me." Sherlock turned to John, faking a pleading and sad look, "Please..."

"Can't help you sorry..." John sadly rejected him.

"I'll let you know next week's lottery numbers." Sherlock bribed.

John laughed and Sherlock groaned, "Worth a try."

Sherlock started rummaging through things stashed in the fireplace as Mrs. Hudson entered. "My secret supply, what've you done with my secret supply!? Cigarettes! What've you done with them? Where are they?" Sherlock frantically searched.

"You know you never let me touch your things." Mrs. Hudson answered, "A chance to clean would be a nice thing..."

"I thought you weren't my housekeeper."

"I'm not!" Mrs. Hudson replied. "How about a nice cup? Perhaps you could put away your harpoon-"

"No I need something stronger then tea!" Sherlock took the harpoon up again, pointing it directly at Mrs. Hudson now. "You're seeing him again. Sandwich shop! That's a new dress, but there's flower on the sleeve. You shouldn't dress like that for baking!"

"Sherlock!" John tried to interrupt.

"Thumbnail, tiny traces of foil. You've been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads don't we?" Sherlock cocked his head, his attitude unbearable. He sniffed the air, "Hmm, Casabana Nights. Bit too much fragrance for a first thing in the morning wouldn't you agree? I've written a little blog in the identification of perfumes it's on the website, you should look it up!" Sherlock paced back to the window, his lust for entertainment still unsatisfied.

"Please..." Mrs. Hudson begged.

"Wouldn't get to close with that cruiser Mrs. Hudson he's got a wife in Doncaster that nobody knows about."

"Sherlock!" John was yelling now.

Sherlock twiddled his fingers accenting a harsh and uncaring tone, "Nobody accept me!"

Mrs. Hudson left the room in an angry fit, choking down tears, "I don't know what you're talking about! I really don't."

She slammed the door shut on her way out.

Sherlock was always like this when he was absent of his nicotine. It was irritating, crude, and unbearable. John always got angry when he started to insult people, but he was insulting Mrs. Hudson now. "What the bloody hell was all that about?" John asked as Sherlock took a seat in the leather chair opposite him. "Go after her and apologize!"

"Apologize?" Sherlock sighed, "Oh John, I envy you so much. Your mind, it's so straight forward. Barely used. It's like an engine, racing out of control, a rocket breaking itself to pieces- I NEED A CASE!"

"You've just solved one!" John raised his arms over his head in an angry fit. "By harpooning a dead pig apparently!"

"That was this morning!" Sherlock groaned again, "When's the next one?"

Sherlock was always like this, detestible, impatient, and full of surprises. When he didn't have his nicotine.