"So, you did drugs?" John asked. It was a few days after they had finished the two cases. Those first couple of days had been a whirlwind of activity, but there was nothing for Sherlock to do. He had been increasingly annoying about how boring things were. John was a little worried about what he might try to do, if Molly had been telling the truth with the riding crop and corpses.

"They helped me think."

"Even though-"

"They are highly addictive, yes. It's easy for those in my family to get addicted to things."

"Oh. Well."

"Actually, I was trying to get over an addiction."

"What could be worse than drugs?"

"Tea."

"Tea?"

"Yes."

John wasn't sure what to think. Tea had caffeine, but could someone become so addicted to it that drugs were a lesser evil? Was tea code for some sort if drug that was even worse? Or something else that was depraved?

"John, you're thinking far too loudly." Sherlock was laying on the couch, his hands in prayer. He obviously wasn't praying to a god, but to himself. How anyone could hear thoughts was beyond John. Cough thrice if you can hear me, John thought quickly. If Sherlock really could read minds, it would explain a lot.

Cough.

Cough.

Nothing. Was he playing games with John or was it just a coincidence? It was hopeless to try, wasn't it? Sherlock would either play games with him or couldn't read his mind. Hopefully, it was the latter.

"Well, that would explain why you never drink tea when I make it."

"John. I'm thinking."

"About what? There aren't any cases!"

"Pi."

"Pie? First tea now pie? I thought you were so superior that you didn't need food or drink!"

"I am still human and still have human needs. But I was talking about pi. P-I pi, not P-I-E pie. I'm trying to see how far I can say it. I'm currently at the ten thousand and ninth place."

"All I know about pi is that it doesn't make sense and the billionth digit is nine." John had a friend in the army who was always spewing out random facts. That was really the only one he remembered.

"How can it not make sense? Even the earliest mathematicians understood it."

"You know what? Go back to digits of pi. This conversation is over." As much as he didn't like silence, it was preferable to what Sherlock was saying. Silence left John too alone in his thoughts. It was always better having someone around in the silence. It left him in his mind too much. There were countless things he never wanted to think about again.

"But pi-"

"Shush."

"Well, you've disrupted my thoughts. Care to talk about something?" He asked, switching from laying down to sitting up. What was Sherlock doing? He wasn't supposed to have conversations. It didn't work that way. "Don't be silly, John, I do like to talk. It's just most people are so boring about it."

"I'm still baffled as to how you can be addicted to tea."

"How can anyone be addicted to anything? You're the doctor."

"I know how that works, Sherlock. But tea?"

"Black tea had enough caffeine to get me to think better. It heightens my senses. I was drinking at least a two liters of it a day."

"Well, obviously, that's not good for you, but why was that so terrible?"

"Because that was just the black tea."

"You drank more than that?"

"Those weren't my best days. I never went more than ten minutes without some tea. It was crippling. And Anderson would always try to sneak some of my tea. He pretended it was just to annoy me, but really tried to drink it - he thought it was the secret to my 'super powers,' so to speak."

Sherlock was now walking around. He wasn't dressed, hair was a mess. Yet, John felt something. It was weird. Like he wanted to go over and shut Sherlock up. That part wasn't unusual, it was that he wanted to use his lips to physically stop Sherlock's.

John wasn't gay. Harry was and that was all fine. But John was straight. He was dating Sarah. He did not think about his roommate in that way. Partly because Sherlock was a guy. Male. John like women, females. They were who he found attractive. Not that Sherlock wasn't a gorgeous bloke, but he was a bloke.

"Anyways, it was dangerous. Three years ago, seven months, and eight days ago, I was working a case. The clues were..." John half listened as Sherlock babbled on about how he solved the case. Something about the number 42 and hobbits. John tried to listen, as both those were related to things he dearly loved, but Sherlock made it sound so boring.

"After deciding that 42 was a code for those who called themselves the Hobbits of Hampshire, I spotted one along the back of the alley. I ran to track them down, only have to stop to get tea. They stayed rogue for a few more hours, but I did hunt them down, eventually. Having to stop for tea made them escape. That's when I knew I had quit tea."

John was surprised. Who knew tea could be so dangerous?