John sits at one end of the kitchen table, a stack of papers sitting in front of him. His face is screwed up in concentration as he writes meticulously. Case notes. Sherlock, sitting at the other end of the table, glances up from the journal article he's reading. He watches John quietly for a moment.
John finally raises an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, I'm sure you'd rather use this space for an experiment or something. Would you rather I moved?"
"Not at all. Please, continue." Sherlock frowns back at his article.
John goes back to writing, a wry grin on his face. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd say you like having me around."
Sherlock's brow knits, but he doesn't look up. "You're certainly tolerable, unlike the last three people I tried to share a flat with."
"High praise," John chuckles into his paper.
They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes. John writes, his face all concentration. Sherlock reads, but his eyes are constantly drawn back to the other man. Now, while John can't see, his face softens. If anyone were looking, they might even think there's a touch of sadness there.
"Sometimes," John eventually continues, "I think you may have actually been lonely. Before me." He looks up from his writing, eyes slightly narrowed as he contemplates his new friend.
For the briefest moment, Sherlock looks distinctly discomfited by the gaze. He quickly schools his expression into something neutral. "End autonomous behavior," he says quietly.
John looks back down at his case notes. "Well, if you insist." He frowns at the pen in his hand as though trying to work out what to write next. His hand doesn't move again. He is silent.
Sherlock swallows. He goes back to his journal article, but soon finds himself glancing up at John again. Eventually, he sighs. "Begin autonomous behavior."
John glances up from his writing, one corner of his mouth turning up. "Like I said."
Sherlock isn't sure what to say to that.