"So tell me again what this is?" John stared uneasily at the pale amber liquid in his cup. It was a late evening in London and the living room of 221B Baker Street was very warm and homey. John was in the middle of a crime fiction novel when a pale blue cup appeared a few inches in front of his face.
"Tea, of course," said Sherlock simply, "Just the way you liked it, slightly brewed with two sucrose cubes."
"But I've never made tea in front of you, nor have I let you taste mine!" John stated, surprised.
"Well last week, you accidentally handed me your cup and judging by the color of the tea, I deduced that you don't pour milk to it and since there were small amounts of crystals on the kitchen table, you obviously added sugar. There were no particles left at the bottom of the cup, so the liquid must not have been filled with too much sugar, given the volume and time you handed it to me, as the saturated liquid will no longer dissolve it. Hence, two cubes." Sherlock replied with exaggerated patience.
So he observed my tea too. Fantastic, John thought sarcastically, but with a hint of actual amazement and slight flattery. A couple of months ago, he would have been completely blown away, but by this time, John was used to the astounding deductions and observations of the great Sherlock Holmes...almost. He brought the cup closer to his lips and took a quick sniff. There wasn't a particularly distinct aroma other than the usual Earl Gray, but as John tilted the cup slightly and took a sip, he noticed Sherlock had slightly shifted his position on the couch across him and was now watching intently.
"Did you perchance put anything, other than sugar, into my cuppa?" John frowned at the now curious detective.
"I'm not intending on poisoning you, if that's what you're asking," he replied.
"That's not what I meant," John's frown deepened as he stared into Sherlock's poker face and spoke tiredly.
They locked eyes for a moment.
"Well, if it will make you feel better, I'll have a cup of that tea myself with some sugar," Sherlock said finally. That did not make John feel better, but it did relieved him of some doubts. He watched Sherlock like a hawk as the man sauntered gracefully into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of tea from the same kettle and dropped two cubes of sugar from the same jar. He proceeded to the sofa, leaned back, and drank his tea leisurely. There was no telling what he was up to. His composure was flawless and he wore a cool expression that told John not to worry. But this was Sherlock we're talking about and John knew better than anyone, besides his brother of course, to just accept his word for it. However, he also knew that there was no way around him and all he could do was to trust the tight-lipped sleuth sitting calmly in front of him. Damn.
After staring warily for a minute, John decided that it was safe (sort of) for him to consumed the suspicious liquid in his cup, slightly cold now. The tea tasted a little funny, but John decided that it might have been the lack of experience Sherlock had for brewing tea. After all, it was John's job, by default. Besides, he was too tired now to listen to another word the detective had to say and excusing himself, he closed his book and went upstairs to his room for the night.
Sherlock peered up from his now emptied cup and watched as John shut the door with a slight thud. He then stood up and cleared away the dishes before turning off the lights and heading up to his room as well. He wanted to stay awake and observed the transformation, but he knew that in order for it to work, he had to be asleep. Six hours for effect, he thought before drifting off, only six.
Let the fun begin.