221B Drabbles

by tsukinoblossom

My attempt at writing short stories in the 221-B format 221 words, last word starting with B . I'm really enjoying writing and I think these will encourage me to to do it more often and present an interesting challenge. Note: These stories are not sequential, or even necessarily in the same universe. Unless otherwise specified, each drabble is a unique, complete entity.

78. Biscuits

"You made Moriaty tea." John's voice is flat - neither amused nor accusatory. Frustratingly, Sherlock can't get a read on him yet. "You never make me tea." Ah, there. A tiny hitch in his voice. Jealous, then. "You made tea for her too."

Sherlock feels uncharacteristically out of his depth here. They were guests. They don't know where things go. Isn't that the polite thing to do? Offer guests tea? John doesn't need anyone to make tea for him. John is strong, and brave, and independent. John knows where the sugar is.

"You live here." Obvious. Clearly. "You can make your own tea."

A shadow darkens John's face. "Yes, and I make yours as well. You never return the favour, but clearly you're capable - you know how the kettle works, apparently."

Oh. Reciprocation. Of course. Before Sherlock has time to reply, John heads upstairs to his room.

Later, there's a knock - incredibly faint - on John's bedroom door. By the time he crosses the room and opens it, the landing at the top of the stairs is empty. Wait, no. Nearly empty. There, on a small tray to the left of his door. A cup of steaming tea with a dash of milk and sugar, just the way he likes it, and a plate with a couple of biscuits.