Nicotine

Fresh Air

Your music taste is terrible. -SH

11.46 am

Sherlock sent the message, locked his phone again, stretched, and yawned. Sunlight shone through the curtains and dust danced in the air.

Sherlock stood up, and immediately sat back down. He had fallen asleep in his armchair, and his neck hurt. And his head pounded. And his throat ached. He closed his eyes again. He half-hoped he was still dreaming.

A buzzing sound brought him back to his senses. Not a dream then, John had replied.

How would you know? -JW

Sherlock pulled the charger out his phone so he could type properly.

You left your Mp3 here. Aren't you supposed to be with your wife? -SH

Oh, thanks. I looked for that ages ago but I couldn't find it. I had forgotten it even existed.
And anyway, you texted me so you want to talk, so why would you imply I should be doing something else, in this case being with my wife? -JW

I asked a simple question. -SH

She's still asleep. We had rather an eventful late night, as you can imagine ;) -JW

I did not need details. -SH

You were asking for it. -JW

Go away and be married. -SH

Sherlock locked his phone and slammed it down angrily as footsteps approached the door. Eventful night!?

He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his splayed fingers, sulking.

"Ooh hoo," Said Mrs Hudson as she walked through the door.

Sherlock sighed.

"I've brought you your tea, I'll just put it over here. What did you think of the wedding, I didn't see you go? Lovely speech Sherlock dear, and catching that murderer, oh my giddy aunt!" Mrs Hudson continued to babble before Sherlock cut in.

"Mrs Hudson, you don't by any chance have a painkiller, do you?" His head was pounding incessantly. Probably the whisky.

"Oh yes dear, there's some in the cupboard downstairs....I'll get you some in a minty...Have you been smoking? It stinks in here Sherlock..." She tottered away downstairs.

"Not much." Sherlock shouted after her.

Mrs Hudson soon came back up with a glass of water and a couple of paracetamols. Sherlock downed the water and the pills in one.

"Sherlock, really. That can't be good for you, you know." Mrs Hudson walked over to the windows and began shoving the latches.

"Mrs Hudson, must you open the windows? It's freezing in here already." Sherlock said, craning his neck to see her.

"Letting in some fresh air, you shouldn't smoke in here young man." She replied sternly.

"Sorry...." Sherlock slyly shifted his leg in an effort to hide the grate filled with cigarette butts.

"Ahgh!" Sherlock exclaimed as he brought a hand up to rub his neck, a sharp pain running through it.

"Cricked your neck, have you? Well, give it a minute for those tablets to work and you'll- WHAT'VE YOU STUCK IN MY BLOODY WALL!?" The grinning yellow face mocked her from above, its left eye stabbed.

"A knife, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock replied smoothly.

"Well you better take it out and sort it! I'm going to put this on your rent!" She said as she left angrily.

Sherlock could hear her mumbling to herself as she stormed downstairs complaining, as usual. Sherlock stretched over and picked up his phone.

One new message

Shut up you. Anything interesting on the website? -JW

Sherlock began to type out a reply, then stopped. John wouldn't come anyway, if there was anything on the website. It was the day after his wedding. He would be looking at stupid wedding photos and opening stupid presents and doing the stupid things married couples did.

Sherlock stalked through to his room, slamming doors and throwing things around angrily. He got ready and slipped on his jacket and scarf over an impeccable suit. He glanced in the mirror,  ruffled his hair and strode out of 221b. Scotland Yard would have a case.