John savored the rich chocolate shake that coated his parched throat. He was sore all over, banged up, and he needed to find an excuse to tell his mother about his peepers being broken… again.
"That was one Hell of a bash you ended Watson."
John didn’t bother jumping anymore as Sherlock made himself comfortable in their booth. But he did slide his arm up to cover his neck.
"Be happy that I’m too tired to deal with you flutter bum." John said.
"Someone’s a bit salty.” Sherlock countered, gleaming his canines. John was more than sure he meant his attitude, but he did tighten his hand a little bit more.