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Technically, Sherlock had been going to this coffee shop every morning since his first year here, long before John Watson started his shifts there, so strictly speaking, his routine had nothing to do with him. He just so happened to make him a little more determined to get there, come rain or shine. And currently, there was far too much shine for Sherlock's liking. Thirty-five degrees celsius of it, to be exact.
By the time he reached the coffee shop from his college, a torturous 20-minute walk away, Sherlock was embarrassingly sweaty, his pale skin on his face burning red. “One black coffee, please,” he said breathlessly. "Two sugars."
John scoffed. "Sorry, Sherlock. Hot coffee's the last thing you need right now."
“Well, how else will I get anything done? Inject caffeine directly into my bloodstream?”
John laughed fondly as he went about making a drink. A moment later, he slid one over the counter to Sherlock. "Iced coffee. It's like normal coffee, but won't give you heatstroke."
"That's just unnatural."
"I'm serious. Try it."
Sherlock sceptically took a sip, but found himself savouring the icy coolness on his tongue. John grinned. "Refreshing, isn't it?"
"Not as sacrilegious as I assumed," he admitted. "How much do I owe you?"
"For you? On the house." John winked.
Underneath his sunburn, Sherlock blushed.