'This morning' had been hours before. Matthew had only been up for a few hours, it was late evening already and the sun was well under the horizion. It left him wondering what Sherlock had been doing all that time, considering how he's dressed now.

The nicotine patches are noted and Matthew lit his own cigarette under lifted eyebrows.

"Our glorious overlords don't care one wit about our well-being, generally speaking, and rather treat us like a plague. But the black market trades are jumping, as is the drug trade; police are lacking, as are regulations. It's almost like home," he mused behind another draw.

Dark eyes swing back over to his company. "What have you learned about it so far?"