"Where did you get that?" John was frowning and crossing his arms.
"Magic," Sherlock said around the cigarette in his mouth as he struck a match.
"You've been doing really well."
Sherlock turned to look at him a moment, considering, then held the cigarette out as he exhaled. "Go ahead." Sherlock's mouth turned up the tiniest bit.
"Go ahead...what?" John blinked at him.
"You want a drag."
John's face changed. "No, actually, I don't-"
"Yes you do." Sherlock said, glancing down at his phone.
John shook his head, hesitating a moment before answering. "Some of us make a concerted effort to overcome bad habits-"
"And you've done splendidly since Afghanistan," Sherlock said, typing out a text with one hand. "Though, at the moment, you're absolutely fiending."
John stared at the cigarette being offered to him.
"I know the signs," he said, putting his phone back down.
John sighed, then gently John picked it out of Sherlock's hand. Sherlock passed him the royal ashtray with it.
"You're terrible," John murmured, closing his eyes and inhaling deep.
"Yes."
John exhaled a long stream of smoke, looking at the cigarette in his hand. "A bit cliche for you, isn't it?"
Sherlock bristled. "What?"
John smiled down at the ashtray as he tapped the ash into it. "A cigarette after a shag? You're practically a desperate housewife."
Sherlock grabbed the cigarette and ashtray back, sulking as he drew his sheet-clad knees up to his chin.
"You like to cuddle after shags," Sherlock muttered, taking a short drag and blowing it in John's direction.
John snorted. "You like to cuddle during shags."
"You like to beg during shags." Sherlock said it sharply.
John took the cigarette out of Sherlock's mouth and grinned. "You like to kiss me during shags," he said around a mouthful of smoke.
"I can find no other way to interrupt your unceasing sentimental drivel."
John's smile turned smug. He held the cigarette in front of Sherlock's face and put his mouth next to his ear.
"You love it."
Sherlock's expression turned murderous. "You love me."
John stared at him, surprised. Sherlock abruptly turned to focus on the wall and lifted his hand to his mouth.
"Yes."
Sherlock froze. John slipped the cigarette out from between his fingers, leaning over Sherlock's lap to stub it out on the ashtray on the nightstand before settling back against the headboard. Their shoulders touched as they stared at the same point on the wall.
"Obvious." John smiled faintly.
Sherlock pressed his lips together as his hand found John's on top of the sheet, squeezing it tightly.