Fingers clicking away at a keyboard. Poking at letters, not the most proper typing style, but still functional. Sherlock watches as John drums his fingers on the side of his laptop and tries to figure out what to type next. He licks his lips for the twelfth time in the past 4 minutes. He takes a sip from the cuppa to his right, eyelids fluttering shut as he takes it in. Sherlock watches the cogs turning in his funny little head, note which fingers touch which keys, what he could be typing.
John Hamish Watson is a beautiful machine, an intricate specimen of handsomeness in itself. Sherlock could watch him forever.
There is absolutely no doubt that he's noticed the detective's gaze by now. His eyes flicker to the side to check now and again, as if he is put off by the fact that those bright grey eyes are practically feasting on him.
He becomes aware of the man's presence over his shoulder, the side of a head practically pressing against his cheek, a chin just barely brushing against his shoulder. His breathing pattern changes subtly—a detail that Sherlock probably wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking for it. His fingers stop clicking away for a moment and the detective's eyes skim over what he's just typed.
"I could see the look in Sherlock's eyes - a flash of, not anger, but hurt. For a second, he looked like a little, lost child. I should have been horrified that he'd even doubt me for a second but, to be honest, it was so refreshingly human of him. He actually did value our friendship. He did, despite himself, care."
John is looking down at the keyboard, at the desk, at the floor, somewhere away from what he's just typed and away from Sherlock.
"Hm." The detective hums in thought. John fidgets, probably due to the sound so close to his ear, but more likely due to Sherlock's interest in this paragraph.
"So. What do you think?"
"Accurate, mostly. Not sure how I like being described as a 'little, lost child,' but I can live with it." John sighs.
"Well it's my blog and I'm not going to change it." He looks up again, beginning his typing once again. The corners of Sherlock's mouth twitch slightly as he stands up again and stalks off to the kitchen.