Sherlock needs warm tea.
Sherlock stared at the glowing screen, his eyes firmly locked on the black-on-white text as he pawed at the touch pad with his middle finger, scrolling down to the next page of the electronic article he was reading. He absently picked up his mug and took a sip of its contents. A slight grimace crossed his face, breaking the intense gaze he had been directing at the laptop. Cold. He set the mug down and rubbed at his eyes in an uncharacteristic display of tiredness. The detective leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the ceiling, 'I want some warm tea.'
He glared reproachfully at the mug. It really was a crime that John required six to eight hours a night. Sherlock really could use some John warm tea during this tedious endeavour. The glare he had fixed upon the mug melted into a look of resignation, and Sherlock picked up the mug, taking another gulp of the cold tea. It would just have to suffice for now.
He shifted his position, drawing his legs up to his chest and leaning over his knees towards the laptop screen, and continued reading about the prevalence of fascilosis in rural areas of Peru.
A/N: John is lucky Sherlock thinks it would be too much trouble to go upstairs and wake him up, and knows John won't wake to texts or his phone vibrating with a call.
He glared reproachfully at the mug. It really was a crime that John required six to eight hours a night. Sherlock really could use some John warm tea during this tedious endeavour. The glare he had fixed upon the mug melted into a look of resignation, and Sherlock picked up the mug, taking another gulp of the cold tea. It would just have to suffice for now.
He shifted his position, drawing his legs up to his chest and leaning over his knees towards the laptop screen, and continued reading about the prevalence of fascilosis in rural areas of Peru.
A/N: John is lucky Sherlock thinks it would be too much trouble to go upstairs and wake him up, and knows John won't wake to texts or his phone vibrating with a call.