John sighed. He had a terrible headache, due to not having caffeine. Sherlock had been dragging him around to various places and John wanted some tea. He liked coffee, but sometimes, he just needed a good cup of tea. Since learning about the addiction, John had been trying to avoid drinking it around Sherlock. Instead, he'd have a cup at the clinic. But that was ages, or two days, ago.

"John, you need to hurry up. Just because you have shorter legs doesn't mean you can't keep up with me."

"Maybe if I got some sleep, I'd be better. You know, I'm an average bloke. I can't get by with no sleep."

"I don't stop you from sleeping!"

"I'm so sorry, I forgot telling me to sleep during the day after running around London for three hours is allowing me to sleep."

"I get you meals."

"To go."

"You need food, I make sure you have it."

John glared. Sherlock would take care of some of his needs, but not all of them. Since when did John need someone to take care of his needs? He was a grown man who'd fought in the war, who was a doctor. He could hold his own. Maybe, he reasoned, he just needed to remind Sherlock that he was a normal bloke more often. Yeah, he could go a night without sleeping, but he'd gotten maybe eight hours over the past few three or four days. Still, it was about eight more than Sherlock.

"Come on." Sherlock was using that voice. The one that meant he was to be obeyed. John sighed again and sped up his walk. They were in some random alley. Why were they there? He dutifully followed. They twisted, turned, and practically went in circles. Finally, they left the back alleys of God knew where and were at a cafe.

"You need some caffeine."

"Am I allowed to get it? Won't it make you want some or something?"

"You seem to have forgotten that I still drink coffee and tea. I just have scaled back and know my limits."

"Oh, well then. I suppose I could use a cup," John said, with a weary smile. He followed Sherlock inside. It was somewhere John would pick. It wasn't fancy. He ordered a cup and waited for Sherlock. He ordered his black, but added in loads of sugar. He was a strange fellow. John secretly believed that Sherlock did it as a way to annoy Mycroft. Or it was just another one of his odd habits.

"How can you stand to drink that stuff?" Sherlock asked, giving John's cup a disapproving glare, as they sat at a table.

"I could ask you the same question. You know as well as I do, that tea tells a lot about a person. We aren't too alike, so I wouldn't think we'd like the same tea."

"But that stuff is disgusting. You, on the other hand, are quite tasty."

"Sherlock."

"John?"

"I really hope you didn't mean that." John sometimes just had to wonder if Sherlock did that on purpose. Did he try to say things that made it sound like he liked John? As in a more than just friends way?

"Why shouldn't I mean it? You are attractive, at least to me. So, isn't 'tasty' a synonym for attractive? Besides, it was a weak pun."

"Sherlock... You don't just say things like that."

"Why not?" These were the moments John cherished. Sherlock was actually unaware of what social norms were and he had such an adorable face. No, it was not adorable. It was just a look of confusion. It was only nice to know something that Sherlock didn't. That was all.

"Generally, a straight bloke doesn't comment on his friend's looks."

"Whoever said I was straight?"

"No one, I guess I just assumed..."

"It's a mistake to theorize without all the facts," Sherlock said in an almost disappointed tone.

"So, then you're gay?"

"Does that bother you?"

"Course not. Harry's gay and I still talk with her. It's the drinking that bothers me."

"What about you? I've caught you glancing enough."

"Me? Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't, unless it affects me. Greg or Mycroft would both affect me." Sherlock paused, before saying in a voice barely above a whisper, "Or, me."

"Sorry?" John asked. Sherlock was not quite confused, but he still had is unsure face on.

"I know you heard exactly what I said. I need not to repeat it."

"This is not the place for such conversations," John said quickly. Was that Sherlock admitting he liked John? No, it couldn't be. Could it?