Conversational

"John."
"Oh! Mornin' Sherlock!"
"An early start, I see."
"Yeah - Sorry, lemme -"
"It's fine."
"Not too loud?"
"No."
"Not too...modern?"
"And what does that mean?"
"Well I've heard you listening to Classical."
"I enjoy modern music just as well."
"Huh!"
"In fact I quite enjoy this song. Turn it back up."

"Oh, Sher."
"Mm?"
"Boss says we can't open early anymore."
"Mm, I'd heard."
"Mm...Not sure what I'll do when I can't sleep, now."
"Hm."

A text exchange, a few days later, ugly hours of the morning again.
"You up? It's John. Got your number from Molly. Hope that's ok."
"Nightmares again? SH"
"Yeah. I mean it's just the same one as usual, not really a big deal. Just hard to sleep is all."
"221B Baker St. SH"
"What's that?"
"Come over. SH"
"Oh! No it's fine really, I don't want to be a bother, just didn't know what to do with myself since I can't go in to the shop is all."
"Not a bother, John. I'll not sleep today anyway. Maybe you could help me with something. I'm running an experiment and could use someone to think aloud to. SH"
"Oh, if you're sure I guess.
GPS says eta 20 mins.
See you then I suppose."
...

"Coffee, John?" Sherlock stands in the doorway, peering out at his coworker, who stands on the landing outside his flat, two paper coffee cups in hand.
"Ha - Yeah, stopped by that 24-hour place on the way."
"Our competitors?"
"Hardly. The customer bases don't much overlap between a sit-down cafe like ours and a 24-hour hole-in-the-wall like those guys."
"Mh." Sherlock stands aside, waving John in. "Make yourself at home."
John steps into the sitting room, gaze sweeping curiously over everything. "Baker Street, huh? Nice area. What're you doing working at a cafe?"
"Hm. I know the landlady from a long time ago. She gives me a reduced rate."
"Still. Even reduced, I bet it's tight, with what we're making."
"It would be easier if my meddling brother would lighten his hold on my trust."
"Ooh, trust fund boy. Posh." Sherlock snorts, taking the cup John offers out for him, and strides into the kitchen. John continues, "Anyway, so what's the experiment?"

Perhaps the next morning. Perhaps some distant morning after.
"Mmm...! Shit! I didn't mean to fall asleep - What time is it?"
"Relax, you've still plenty of time to get ready for your shift."
"No it's 20 minutes the wrong direction to my flat, Sherlock, I'm late!"
"Why would you make a 50 minute round trip to go to work? There's a perfectly functional shower just in there, surely you saw it when you went to the loo earlier."
"What? Er - Uh. Ok but - I don't have a change of clothes with me."
"You wouldn't be the first person to punch in wearing yesterday's clothes. The sleep was more important."
"Hmh...Well. Alright. This one time, I suppose..."

"You up?"
"Yes. SH"
...

Sherlock startles as there's a knock on his door. He looks down at the phone in his hand, having just sent that reply, and then looks up to the door. And finally, he gets up to open it.

"Oh -" John stands on the other side, expression having shifted from surprise to amused accusation. "You're a liar."

Sherlock had clearly not been up. He stands hunched in the doorway, one hand on the frame for support, hair wild from his pillow. Comfy pajamas hang loose from his frame, wrinkled, one side of his shirt hitched up over his hip. "...Well I didn't know you were here." Even his voice is sleep-tousled.

John shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he studies his coworker - his friend. Now his expression shifts through more emotions, before landing on guilt. "Good to know you do sleep sometimes. Sorry I woke you. You didn't have to answer."

"Nonsense, John." Sherlock steps aside, gesturing for the shorter man to come in. And so he does. "I would have been up soon anyway."

"You need to sleep more, Sher. Can't run on coffee and cigarette smoke all the time."

Sherlock waves dismissively as he heads to the kitchen for exactly that - to make some coffee and grab a pack of cigarettes off of the table. And while the coffee brews, he leans against the table, taps out a cigarette, tucks it between his lips, and brings up a lighter - snatched from the table beside where the pack had been - to light it. God, sometimes he looks so effortlessly cool.

John doesn't say that. Instead, he says, "Really you should stop smoking altogether. Bad for you."

Sherlock gives another dismissive wave, paired with an equally dismissive grunt, staring dead-eyed at the machine brewing his liquid consciousness.

John rolls his eyes and shakes his head, wandering to the sofa to settle in with his laptop. "Music?"

"Alright?"
"Mm? Oh. Mh..."
"Hm?"
"Ah -...The rate on my flat's gone up. Gonna have to find a new one..."
"Hm. Have you thought about a flat share?"
"Meh...I dunno. Not too keen on the idea of living with a bloke I don't even know, y'know?"
"Hm. What about a 'bloke' you work with?"
"Wh- Oh! No, no, I mean, that's really kind of you to offer, Sherlock but - No, no it's fine. I'll be fine."
"It's not just a kindness, John. It would be practical. I've not kept it secret that my finances are strained here. It would be a benefit to have someone reliable who could share that cost. And as I've said, it's a very good rate. There's even an unused room upstairs."
"...Hmm."
"You already spend the odd hours of most nights here anyway."
"Ha - Well. Yes. That is true. I -...Hm. You're sure? I mean. You've filled out the space quite well on your own."
"Clutter, a lot of it. I'd tidy it before you moved in."
"Hm...Well. I suppose - Sure, yeah. Doesn't even have to be permanent, right? If for some reason it doesn't work out I could always find another place. Yeah. Sure. Ok."
"Ok."