"Lover."
"Absolutely not. What we do inside our own flat is private. Besides, people seem to spend too much time speculating about it as it is."
Sherlock arched an eyebrow. "Historically, it has not been just inside our own flat -"
" - Not the point." John crossed his arms resolutely.
"Boyfriend?"
John wrinkled his nose. "So... teenybopper. I'm a soldier and a doctor, for God's sake. And you, a consulting detective, striding around in that great swirling coat..."
"What has my coat got to do with it?" Sherlock looked offended.
"Nothing. It's just hard to picture you as someone's... boyfriend... in it."
For once in his life, Sherlock let something pass, possibly out of satisfaction at the clear effect of his coat. He tried again. "Partner?"
John sighed. "We were that already, weren't we?"
Sherlock had to concede the point (silently, of course), although reflecting back, he wasn't entirely sure where the dividing line between their old partnership and the newer relationship ever was.
"Significant other."
"Christ, you have a whole mental thesaurus in that great brain of yours and that's the best you can come up with? I suppose, if we must. It's just so... sterile."
Sherlock rested his chin on steepled fingers and gazed thoughtfully at his flatmate. Suddenly, he grinned. Of course. The perfect solution: romantic, mature, and new.
"Beau."
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