Sherlock – 221b
Small ficlets that have only 221 words and the last word starts with B.
Sherlock leaned against a brick wall and exhaled a deep, raspy sigh. Smoke curled up slowly from his mouth and he watched it disappear far above Scotland Yard's windows. His eyes were half closed and his lips turned up in a smirk. He decided he deserved this after a particularly long and gruesome case.
Lestrade stood next to him doing the same, though with a different expression. He took each drag from his cigarette with a look of guilt in his eyes. He looked at the small red embers, thinking of how disappointed his wife would be when he came home tonight.
"She'll forgive you this once. She knows you haven't slept properly in days."
Lestrade grinned, shaking his head. "You're one to talk. I hear John has to practically tie you to the bed."
Sherlock grinned back. "Only when I'm on my best behaviour, then John will reward me."
"Oh god, I didn't need to hear that." The detective groaned.
Sherlock ignored him and threw the remainder of his cigarette on the alley street. He quickly pulled another one out of his pocket and placed it in his lips.
"How is it anyway?" Lestrade asked, lighting Sherlock's cigarette for him. John doesn't ever trust him enough to carry around lighters.
"The sex or the smoke?"