I do not own any this world's adorable British dorks, no matter what I say otherwise.

This is my first Sherlock fic, so I hope I got everything and everyone right.

When John Watson goes home, there is always a simple routine that he will follow before going to bed. He will walk through the door, drop anything that he might be carrying on the floor, then kick off his shoes, take off his rumpled coat, then wrap himself in a bathrobe that is always lying neatly folded on one of the couches.

And then he will go into the kitchen and pour himself two cups of tea.

For three years out of habit, John continues to serve an extra cup of tea to man who is no longer alive anymore.

And one day, when John comes home after a trying day, he sits in his bathrobe at the table, staring at the steaming cups of tea.

John waits, and waits for a pair of thin, pale, hands stretch out across the table and pick up one of the cups.

But the cup stays where it is, and then it suddenly reoccurs to John, his friend is gone, and is never coming back.

John grabs his teacup and throws it across the room, listening in satisfaction to the sound of shattering china, then John proceeds to break every single dish,cup, or plate that he possesses.

But he doesn't touch Sherlock's cup, and when he finally crawls into bed covered in blood and tears, the cup is still standing on the table.

The next day John goes out to buy new dishes, he comes back later in the afternoon, with a box of kitchenware clamped underneath his arm.

He places the box on the table, cuts it open, and begins to unpack his new dishes.

John was about to put the last two cups away when he remembers the tea bubbling on the stove.

Slowly John lifts the teapot from the hot burner, and pours tea into the two cups, then he sits at the table, sipping his own tea, and watching the steam curling upwards from the top of the other cup.

When he finally empties his cup, John stands up and grabs the other cup, meaning to throw the excess tea away, but a pair of thin, pale, hands take the cup away from him.

John looks up, and sees Sherlock Holmes standing in front of him, blowing into the tea to cool it down.

"Hello, John" says Sherlock.