[The question comes after a considerable time in silence.
He knows there's one back over the bridge, but that's too far to consider turning 'round and going back to at this point. He doesn't know where they're going, really, and he especially doesn't know the layout of this village.
Sherlock's hands reveal his intentions. The fingers stretch and contract a bit, and the thumb and index finger slip across each other... the same sort of habit he does when checking the rolling of a cigarette, tapping the end to be sure.
Silence, he can bear. But the tension in this quiet makes him want a cigarette.
no subject
[The question comes after a considerable time in silence.
He knows there's one back over the bridge, but that's too far to consider turning 'round and going back to at this point. He doesn't know where they're going, really, and he especially doesn't know the layout of this village.
Sherlock's hands reveal his intentions. The fingers stretch and contract a bit, and the thumb and index finger slip across each other... the same sort of habit he does when checking the rolling of a cigarette, tapping the end to be sure.
Silence, he can bear. But the tension in this quiet makes him want a cigarette.
...or something stronger...
But a cigarette will do.]