@acercontego
cont. [x.]
HE DOESN’T ANSWER RIGHT AWAY - feels as if anything, he’s earned a moment of inner contemplation without having to answer to anybody; just for a moment. Sits on the curb, pulling out a flask and a cigarette, and finally he gives the smallest of shrugs.
Could probably laugh at the situation if he didn’t feel so despondent, and he offers Sherlock a cigarette.
“My excuse?” a wry smile forms around his cigarette as he takes a pull, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “The world has gone to hell, and nicotine patches don’t do a damned thing.”
From behind the other, remained standing, Sherlock accepted the offered roll of tobacco. The patches, the gum - or any other attempted substitute - it was all for the others; John, Mrs. Hudson, Molly. Perhaps Mycroft could be added in there at some point. Though on occasion the two brother’s did share the occasional smoke. But considering recent exploitations and events, Sherlock needed a bit of a break today. He knew a bit of tobacco would be more preferable for them, than for him to be partaking in something harder. And that’s where Sherlock had the upper hand, definitely utilizing this advantage every so often.
“Mhm,” the detective murmured, half of a nod to agree with the DI. "You'll have to put that one in the books."
