Nicotine

Sarcastic Conclusions

Sherlock walked confidently into the hotel, and John followed close behind. The hotel was nice, with pretty views, and a pretty receptionist. She eyed Sherlock up and down as he approached the desk. John shot her a dirty look.

"Room booked under Holmes." Sherlock said coldly, looking down at her.

"Yes, sir, second floor, room 210. If I could see some form of ID please?" Sherlock slid her his driving licence and turned away. She subconsciously bit her lip.

"Uhh, Sherlock?" Said John.

"Yes John?" Sherlock tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk. The receptionist typed faster.

"You said room." John explained.

"Ah, yes. Sorry. They only had one left. It's twin beds, so if that's fine." Sherlock didn't wait for a reply, taking the key card and his licence from the receptionist.

"Yes, sorry, yeah sure. Fine." John picked up their bags and followed Sherlock into the lift.

They dined quietly in the hotel restaurant, not wanting to attract too much attention to themselves. However, there was excited mutters among the hotel staff. The famous consulting detective, here the day after a local murder. They were intrigued.

They both went back to their room after the meal. John produced a book from his bag and sat on his bed reading. Sherlock lay down and left reality for his mind palace. They remained like this for over half an hour, before John broke the silence.

"Sherlock. Do you like Mary?"

Sherlock sat up.

"Why?"

"Because it's important Sherlock. I want to know." John held Sherlock's gaze.

"She read the skip code, which enabled me to save you from burning alive." Sherlock commented.

"Yes, but do you like her?" John and Sherlock sat opposite each other, each sitting on their own bed.

"Yes, John." Said Sherlock dramatically- almost sarcastically.

"Good. Because, it means a lot to me Sherlock. That my best friend and my wife get on." John said meaningfully.

"Good yes whatever moving on." Said Sherlock.

When John said nothing, Sherlock lay back down on the bed and returned to the deep recesses of his mind.

"...Sherlock?" John ventured slowly.

The detective sighed and opened his eyes. He let his gaze meet John's but did not move from his position. John took that as a notion to continue.

"Have you ever had, you know, a relationship? Girlfriend, boyfriend...anything?"

"Have we suddenly become hormonal teenagers on a repulsive sleepover filled with mindless chatter?" Sherlock said coldly.

"What- oh never mind." John said, giving up.

"Did you not observe my relations with Janine and gather I had some sort of experience, John?" Sherlock said dully.

John didn't push it.

Soon the consulting detective and his blogger turned in for the night, and both slept soundly. Sherlock had an alternative to getting high, a case and a friend. John was unaffected by nightmares, his sleeping mind conscious somehow of Sherlock's presence.