With his back to Sherlock, John doesn't notice his friend is blushing until he turns around, a bottle of beer in each hand. Amusement flickers across his face and pulls up on his lips, before his expression settles into one of complete earnestness.

"I wanted to. It's not much, what with the deposit and the move and..." John shrugs, deciding to leave out the cheque he wrote for the landlord of the MAC. Relations between the natives and the imports were tense enough without him exacerbating it by ruining properly and bolting. It gave him peace of mind, even if the cost burned a hole in his pocket.

"I owe you, okay?"