A/N: This story was inspire by a similar story by Haelia and by David Levithan's Lover's Dictionary. Reviews are appreciated!


Applaud

"Applaud."

John blinked and let out an involuntary, and highly regrettable, gasp as he came back to the present.

"Sorry, what?" But Sherlock was already walking away, leaving behind a well-informed, albeit humbled Lestrade and Donovan to wrap up a seemingly complicated, gruesome double murder.

"Applaud, if you must" Sherlock drawled as he stormed out of the alley, "but standing there slack-mouthed like a hungry dog only equates you with the other buffoons on the Yard, a resemblance with which I'd much rather not share a flat." At that Sherlock stepped into a waiting taxi and shut the door, barely allowing John the chance to avoid a broken hand. The window was rolled down to deliver one last sting.

"If only you observed, John, you would not find such fascination in my work…nor in me." With that the cab, and Sherlock, were gone.

John's entire being tensed as he drew in a breath, attempting to ignore the growing pangs in his chest, his shoulder, his leg. The meaning of Sherlock's words were obtuse as always. Well, his general dismay in John's intelligence was nothing new and quite forthright, but fascination? The way Sherlock's voiced curled in malice around the word and slid quickly from annoyance to icy disdain by the end made John fear how truly observant the detective could be.