Fuelled by my own newfound obsession for tea. :p
…
A marvellous sound filled the air of 221B Baker Street; the melodious ding of a kettle just brought to boil, and at the sound of it, John Watson flew out of his favourite armchair with the excited air of a much younger man.
"You seem very keen, John," Sherlock called from the kitchen table with a humorous note, as he glanced up from the lens of the microscope, protective goggles perching precariously on the edge of his curls. By this time, John had made it to the cupboard and had snatched out two well-worn mugs. The doctor flashed the consulting detective a smile.
"It's tea, Sherlock. You can never be too keen for tea!" he replied cheerily, placing a tea bag into each of the mugs and picking up the kettle to splash the boiling water into them. The clearness of the water became tinged with familiar delicious brown, and he left the drinks to brew, a timer all ready ticking in his head. He turned to face his flatmate.
"How many cups have you had today already?" the detective asked, the hint of a smirk at his lips. John frowned.
"Four? I don't know."
"Six, by my count."
"What's your point?" John half-sighed, and Sherlock gave him an amused look.
"I think you may be addicted to tea."
John blinked.