Two halves of the whole

Such moments don't happen often now, their novelty frayed slightly with passing time. They are just the small parts of a day-to-day life, taken in stride and assumed to be. But they are not taken for granted; on the contrary, they are treasured, cherished and stored safely away in the memory of two infallible friends.

The kaleidoscope of emotions, fleeting across Sherlock's face while he waits for John to voice his opinion.

Disbelief transforming into amazement in John's eyes when Sherlock explains his conclusions.

Sherlock leaning into John's personal space to say something, not meant to be heard by anybody else.

John, pursing his lips and balling his hands into fists, trying not to lash out at Sherlock, even when the younger man deserves it.

Sherlock, outlining his words with the movements of his hands and sometimes with his whole body.

John, snatching his phone or notebook out of Sherlock's hands, when the detective once again borrows said item without asking, and Sherlock imperturbably steepling his fingers and raising his eyebrow in reaction.

Sherlock's unwavering devotion to his job, and John's unrelenting determination to keep his flat mate safe and sound.

John, calling Sherlock's name again and again to get his attention while the dark-haired man rattles his deductions at breakneck speed, and halting the great detective with the simple and easy solution of the problem.

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitching upwards, forming a ghost of half-smile on his face, and his patented grin, lighting his whole face.

John, easily falling into step beside Sherlock or dashing after him across London.

The almost sensual 'oh', when Sherlock finally connects the dots and solves the case.

John – solid, dependable, steady, calm – like metal or earth, and Sherlock – changeable, elusive, unpredictable, enigmatic – like air or fire; the perfect match, two halves of the whole.

The words, seldom spoken, but heard clearly between those two.

"I'm glad you're here"

"I'm glad you've noticed"