John smiled, perfectly at ease. "I honestly expected you to be asleep. You looked pretty knackered."

"I am pretty knackered."

John took off his towel and used it to quickly dry his hair before tossing it onto the bed and climbing in next to Sherlock. "Have you just been sitting here waiting for me?"

"Waiting and thinking."

"About?"

Sherlock turned toward John. This is when you should lie. When you should simply say, 'thinking about how amazing that was,' and give a goofy grin and close your eyes and snuggle into his shoulder. Certainly Sherlock was adept at lying. Instead, he found himself saying, "Cocaine."

Thankfully, he had enough sense to amend the statement quickly. "Not about using, John. Just, the highs. Horrible pillow talk. Sorry."

John processed. "No, don't be. It's... addictive? How you feel?" There was an easiness in his features that spoke of understanding. This was something John seemed to relate to. Sherlock found himself wishing he could simply nod and agree. This was an addiction for John, at least right now. Maybe that would change. Maybe it never would. He decided he could handle it either way.

"More about the highs, the lows. The balance."

"Oh. To be honest, not exactly what I was hoping to hear." John still smiled.

Sherlock did, too. "Well, to be honest as well, not exactly what I was meaning to say. After the most amazing sexual experience possible."

"Well. I wanted you to get your money's worth."

"Please. Don't."

John looked perplexed. "Don't what?"

"That was the worst experience of my life. Please don't treat it so lightly. I know mocking the situation feels better somehow... but, please, stop."

The silence seemed inordinately long.

John looked down at the sheet, focussing in on the discarded towel which was dampening the pillow. "You're... serious."

Sherlock spoke rapidly, waving his hands. "Yes, yes, of course I'm serious. If I was going to Iie, I would have lied right from the start-- about the cocaine-- don't you think?" He looked directly at John and defiantly held his posturing, until John finally met his eyes.

"More likely you wouldn't lie about the cocaine, then wish that you had, and then you'd lie about the next thing that came along."

Sherlock grinned.

"See, that's the look. The look you gave me during the Culverton Smith case when you'd been a lying little shit and had me damn near convinced that we'd caught the disease from that fucking ivory box and were both going to die... just before you decided it was worth your while to let me in on the secret. Not so glad that I'm getting more memories back now, huh?" John winked.

Sherlock's face was at its hardest, its most resolute. "Never. And I'm not lying this time, John."

"Why so serious? There is nothing to be done about it. I'm half a world away from them, and safe. It's over. Well, I mean, damage done, yes, but when you think about it, wanting to have a lot of sex is infinitely better once you consider the other possible outcomes-- especially when there's someone you don't mind having a lot of sex with, right?"

Sherlock got out of bed. For some reason, it didn't feel right to be lying there talking about this.