Diclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Just a little something that popped into my head. Happy New Year Everyone!

Sherlock doesn't smoke anymore…at least not often. However, he seems to have developed a new problem whilst trying to give up the habit. Having processed his feelings for his flatmate long ago, Sherlock determined that he couldn't act on them due to the uncertainty of how their relationship would change. Unfortunately, that decision has no effect on his obsession with the good doctor's lips.

It began one night after a particularly harrowing case in which Sherlock had a rather close brush with death. He was fine of course, but John had been shaken enough that Sherlock found him on the roof of their building that night smoking to calm his nerves. Sherlock had been surprised to say the least, what with John's commentary on breathing and all, but he explained that during his days in the army he had smoked on a few occasions to be social and still did under extremely rare circumstances. After that night, they went back to normal, except for one thing. Sherlock found himself utterly unable to delete the image of John, his John, with a cigarette between his lips and then twirling in his fingers, eyes dark and unreadable, with smoke curling from his mouth.

Sherlock was surprised to find that the image left him with a craving, not for nicotine, but for those lips. He would find himself wondering what they would taste like, and the answer that came in his dreams was always accompanied by those dark eyes, so unlike the ones he was used to.

Now, it was all fine and dandy for Sherlock to be having dreams. After all, he rarely slept anyway. The problem came when they began bleeding into his waking hours. Sherlock would catch himself staring at John at random times and places throughout the day. And of course there were the times when John would do something like wet his lips before speaking at a crime scene and he would be struck with a desire to make his dreams a reality right there.

This went on for a few weeks, until the point at which it became almost unbearable. Finally, Sherlock actually went out and bought a pack of cigarettes, hoping to replace his new fixation with the old addiction. Of course, he never got a chance to find out if it would have worked since John found the unopened package when he returned home that day.

"Really Sherlock?" John asked with a look. "What about the nicotine patches?"

"It's not the nicotine," Sherlock muttered in response, his eyes fixed on his partner's mouth.

"Then what? I really don't understand," he replied.

"Oh, for goodness sake, John. I have an oral fixation. It's not uncommon. Now would you please give me the damn box before I do something I may regret?"

John licked his lips before replying, "I don't think I should. Why would I want you to…"

Whatever else he had been planning to say was cut off by the feeling of Sherlock's lips on his. John froze at first, but quickly relaxed into the kiss, dropping the cigarettes to the floor, his hands moving to the detective's face. It was unexpected, but felt incredibly right. When the need for oxygen became an issue, John broke the kiss, pulling back slightly. His eyes were as dark as they had been that night on the rooftop as he caught his breath.

"Sherlock, what…"

Sherlock cut him off. "Oral fixation, John. Please keep up."

With that, John allowed himself to pushed against the sitting room wall as Sherlock's tongue curled around his own. Needless to say, they were rather occupied for the rest of the afternoon.

Who needs smoking?