John's eyes narrowed as soon as Sherlock stepped into the living room and swung off his coat, tossing it on the sofa. He gripped his mug tighter as he made some deductions of his own, "Explain yourself," he orders.
"Hmm…" Sherlock hums, already sitting across the room on the laptop. "Oh yes, I'd love some tea thanks."
The older man's jaw tenses as he walks up to where his mate sat, placing his mug loudly on the table.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'd prefer my own," he states, scrolling over an article.
"You've been smoking," John intones with forced calm, causing the other man to pause. "I can smell it," he adds, stopping any denials.
"I was following a suspect John…"
"Really," he crosses his arm, "Where to? An ash tray?"
"If you must know…" Sherlock sighs, "It was for the case. I couldn't very well follow him to designated smoking area and not, plus it afforded me the chance to have a nice little chat." He smirks, "He didn't do it by the way," he returns to the computer and pages down.
"That's good to know," he nods sardonically, "The case is always more important than your lungs."
"It was one, hardly a setback…" He turns back to the other man, "Am I to understand that you're fine with me being shot at and threatened, but one cigarette has you in tizzy, priorities…" he tisks.
"That's a necessary evil Sherlock, I'm not an idiot thanks," John sighs.
"I see…"
"Do you?" he narrows his eyes doubtfully.
"Yes, and as always your worry about what I choose," he emphasizes, "To do to myself, is misplaced." He spares the other man a brief glance as he rises to the kitchen.
"Hang on," John follows, "Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?" He asks earnestly as he looks up from his experiment.
"Brush off the fact that I actually care about you, that anyone does for that matter."
"As always you're reading emotionally into this love," Sherlock shakes his head absently, going back to his chemistry set.
"Right, silly me for knowing you well enough to realize that you see yourself as expendable."
"Expendable?"
"Yes, didn't I just say," John mocks.
"It was one cigarette."
"It's not about that anymore Sherlock."
"Can we really not do this, I'm sorry… is that what you want?"
"It's a start," John stares at him resolutely. "Look, I know this is new and illogical," John begins, rubbing the back of his neck, "But it's me, yea… You don't have to prove or hide anything from me… I know you, sometimes better then you know yourself… That's all I'm sayin'."
Sherlock studies him for a moment, the older man squirming a bit awkwardly under the scrutiny. "Are we done?" he states slowly.
"Yeah, we're done…" he turns, heading back to the living room and sitting at his laptop to type up an old case.
Hours pass in silence when John nearly knocks his laptop off the table when a loud shout resonates through the flat.
"Brilliant," Sherlock cries, accompanied by the sound of a chair being knocked over, "John where's my phone?"
"Um…" he looks about before finding, the detective already upon him as he brandishes the mobile, "Here…" he's cut off by an enthusiastic kiss. "Wha?" He reels.
"You're an amazing conductor, John," he informs him earnestly, his fingers quickly punching at the keys of his device.
"Ya, you've said… Sorry, what did I do?"
"It was the neighbor," Sherlock explains, "I figured it was the girl-friend framing him because it was obviously someone close to the suspect," he states quickly, "However, said girl friend who not only tolerates the habit of smoking, would possibly partake herself and would be aware of the brand her lover was partial to."
"But that's not the one that was at the scene?" he tries with a shrug.
"Exactly," he smirks proudly, "Now do you see the importance of tobacco ash?"
"Not remotely," John jests playfully, the other man's face falling. "Well, I'm glad I was of service."
"You're always of service."
"Mmm," he hums sitting back at his laptop to return to work.
Sherlock's mobile goes off with a response from Lestrade, causing him to grown dramatically. "Lestrades is on his way," he states procuring something from the kitchen.
"What for?"
"This," he place an evidence bag with notes on the desk next to the doctor, "Do make sure he gets it."
"Sure… Where you off to then?" John watches him warily.
"Nowhere," he stalks off the bedroom, "I'm not here," he adds closing the door.
Lestrade pops by, John making polite small talk and handing of the items he was instructed. After the D.I. leaves he finishes his write up before noticing that Sherlock's been awfully quite for an awfully long time. A brief glance at the clock informs him that it's almost nine, much later then he thought. He raps on the door to the bed room before opening it to peek in.
"Sherlock?" John calls, seeing the detective's curled form on the bed. "What are you up to in here?" he crosses to the bed.
"Sleeping," he murmurs.
"No you're not," he smiles, slipping behind the younger man and stroking his arm, "Everything all right?"
"Fine," Sherlock hums, "Relishing the silence."
The doctor nods, knowing full well Sherlock's mind was anything but silent because if it was he'd actually be a sleep. "You want me to go?" he moves to allow the other man his solitude.
"No."
John stays, wishing as usual he could understand that brilliant mind or at least be privy to more of it. He places an arm around the detective, Sherlock turning in his grasp to rest his head on John's good shoulder. The two men laying in silence, the doctor absently stroking the younger man's back.
"Eventually," Sherlock informs him, quietly answering the other's thought and earning a kiss of understanding on the top of his curly head.
REVIEW Please and Thank you! (They are helpful and super appreciated)
PLEASE! Feel free to suggest prompts! The chances are I'll use it and they really help inspire me. (Note: I will not do marriage etc because personally that's out of character for them to me)
Thanks and enjoy!