ideas i hope someone uses

field

is this the thanks i get for putting u btches on??? is it my fault for putting u btcehs on 

okay anyway hi i jusr hvae this because i wanted to post it (yes i have this on ao3 but i never finished it)

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Sherlock walked through the empty field, his trench coat brushing against the long grass and even getting caught on some branches that had gotten stuck in the green. "Boring," the detective uttered in a low tone, his left thumb rubbing against the leather worn on it with his right hand in his pocket. Irritated, Sherlock stopped once he found himself getting nowhere and instead took out a lighter and a cigarette.

"Stop smoking, Sherlock. I don't want to keep taking you to the bloody ER for running when you cannot breathe." He remembered John would always say, his voice light and never seen as opposing in any way. lighting the cigarette, the smell of tobacco now lingered through the grassland all around with his footsteps soft against the meadow floor. He put the cigarette to his lips and took a drag from it, blowing out the smoke before he noticed a familiar figure lurking the tall grass field. as if immediately, the detective took his last drag before hiding it behind his back and coughing from the nicotine intake.

"Sherlock?" you'd hear come from the other side of the field, the voice rough, presumably from the wind. The figure came into eye-view and soon became known to be John Watson. "What are---" John quickly caught himself at the smell of smoke. "Is that... smoke? Is something on fire?" The army doctor concluded, stepping closer to Sherlock cautiously, then raising an eyebrow and looking him up and down. "hm..." John started, "you're smoking again, aren't you."

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STOP WHAT ARE THESE OLD CHAPTERS THEYRE SO POORLY WRITTEN HELP...