#dxtadxtadxta

Daryl paused when he walked into the room and heard Sherlock, looking him over then to the near empty bottle he frowned realizing he was drunk. Setting down his crossbow before walking over to the other man, “-- ya’ been holdin’ out on me.” He says slowly.

“What are you talking about?”

“Are ya lost o’ what?”

“Tha’ hat is stupider than Carl’s an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

John closed the book with a soft sigh, "Can't you smoke that bloody thing else where? It's bad for your lungs and mine." Shifting slightly, he turned his head to look at Holmes. He hated it when his friend had those moments of attachment especially when they were in the middle of a case. A low grumble as he set the book back down in his lap, "Were you even listening?"