"You taste like an ash tray."
Sherlock pulled back from the kiss, irritated to say the least. It was John's second day home and still the baleful looks and insults continued. The doctor had recovered well, having no huge complaints aside from cracked ribs, a broken wrist, and multiple bruises and scrapes that Sherlock found painful to look at.
"Brilliant observation." He commented dryly, his body snapping up from a leaning position over the couch back to standing. John lay on the couch with his legs outstretched, glaring up at the detective.
"When are you planning on not tasting like ash?" John commented passively, pretending to be absorbed in the book he clutched in the one hand that wasn't trapped in a cast. Sherlock rolled his eyes as a reply and grabbed some case files off the desk that he could pretend to be equally as absorbed in. However it didn't take very long for his fingers to start twitching and drumming an erratic pattern on the desk. He held out for a full two minutes before sighing and making a rather abashed exit to the streets below, pretending not to notice John's frustrated sigh. His hands fished out the lighter and the cigs with practiced grace, and by the time he was on the street and well out of John's judging view (which was the only reason he even bothered leaving the flat) he was taking his first drag.
His mind was torn between that new found emotion he had labeled purely as "worry for John" and his craving when he heard John's footsteps behind him.
"Shouldn't you be sitting very still and trying not to break anything?" Sherlock snapped, using his reaction to hide his real concern.
"My health is not anymore important than yours." John sighed, limping towards Sherlock.
"Of course it is, don't be ridiculous." Sherlock huffed. "I don't recall being struck by a vehicle in the past few days."
"This always happens." John gave a small smile and leaned against Sherlock. "It does, and you know it too. Whenever one of your friends..."
Sherlock gave a glare and a small disgruntled noise, causing John to roll his eyes.
"Oh please. Fine, when someone that considers themselves your friend, even though you have none, gets put in danger you completely destroy yourself." He nudged against Sherlock's side gently. "You act the way you do when you get a really good case. You don't eat or sleep, you act like a real tosser, and you fall back into old habits."
Sherlock puffed out smoke, and after a short hesitation looked down at his lover.
"You want me to stop acting like me?" He chuckled.
"I just want you to quit. Again. This time maybe last a little longer. I'll let you have this last smoke." John held out a waiting hand, into which after much scowling and eye rolling Sherlock deposited his cigarettes and lighter.
"Now once you are quite done with your pestering, I'd like to get you back inside." Sherlock sighed, crushing his cigarette underfoot and almost pushing John towards the door.
"Oi, now who's pestering?" John laughed. "I'm a soldier, I can handle walking around."
"Of course, and that's why you needed the cane."
"Sod off!"