Disclaimer: still nothing mine. Ever.
Clearing things out
"I didn't think you were still angry about my blog," John grumbled, on the way back from Dartmoor.
Sherlock glanced sharply at him—which might not have been the best idea for someone currently driving. "What is your deduction based on, exactly?"
"Well, if it's not retaliation about me letting the world know you're less than perfect, what brought the conductor of light thing on? I am glad that you think I'm worth a backhanded compliment instead of a plain insult like Anderson, but that was really almost entirely backhand."
Sherlock sighed. "And here I thought that you had at least a passing knowledge of how things work."
John's dirty look said all too well what he thought of his friend's words. Still, when the detective ordered him to google "copper wire theft UK" he instinctively obeyed. On the first page, sensational articles called it "a plague" that "costed UK a fortune."
"Now google lamp theft UK. Or lamps. Whatever," Sherlock said.
John shrugged but did it. "Just a few cases of petty theft. If you were looking for another case, I reckon we're on the wrong track."
"I'm never on the wrong track. Well, almost never. And there was no backhand at all. In fact, as you've seen, people make a lot more fuss about losing a conductor than a light source. And rightfully so, because lights? They get replaced all the time. Industries existed simply because we refused to stay put when the sun didn't shine. Conductors? They get replaced too, of course…but it's much harder to find good quality ones, and generally a hassle for everyone involved. You've read the titles."
"Oh." It was breathy, awed, and it had absolutely no right to make Sherlock feel things.
"Just for the record, if you ever start working with Mycroft should I burn out, I won't forgive you."
"That will never happen," John replied, smiling.
"My brother can be very persuasive," the detective said, eyes pointedly on the road.
"Oh, I don't doubt it. But you're not going to burn out. I won't let you. You forget I'm a doctor."
"And a very good one. No, I've not forgotten. Especially not after experiencing bad doctors first-hand. I do know how lucky I am, believe me."
That rendered John speechless. Clearly, Sherlock had been remiss in showing his appreciation to his blogger. Oh well. At least he realised in time to remedy that oversight.