Insults - There are far too many of the things bandied about. John hates it. Sherlock doesn't care, does he?
Usual disclaimers apply. Not mine. No profit. *sob*
"What's twisted your knickers today?"
Sherlock sent John a look of utter disdain, lips pursed, brow furrowed. A lesser man would have winced. John just tilted his head questioningly.
"Insults." A shrugged admittance.
"You don't actually listen to them, do you?" Incredulous, no other word for it.
"If you have the same words thrown at you for thirty years sooner or later sensitivities develop, no matter how nonsensical."
John did not answer. Could not. All this time he thought the insults slipped over him, filtered out as unnecessary useless noise. Adding to the 'everyone's an idiot' mentality. But now he could see them clinging, spiking little hooks and barbs into his back and weighing him down. His dislike for offensive people came not only from their idiocy and immaturity, but from their derision and mockery. He could see it now. How had he ever missed it?
"Don't pity me, John. Cruel words are rarely rootless. More often than not if I receive them it is because I have asked for them, in one way or another." He shrugged again, seeming careless.
"I don't pity you. I just don't understand you. Surely you, especially you, can see the insults are meaningless, they are only meant to make you feel bad. They have no truth."
Sherlock scoffed. "Oh, the truthless ones are ignored. Why would I waste my time listening to something untrue."
And therein lay the problem. If they were based in truth then he would have had to listen and absorb them. But whatever happened to deleting useless information? John frowned, "So who was it today? What did they say?"
"I'm not going to talk this out like some bullied schoolgirl. I am perfectly capable of dealing with it, thank you." But instead of walking away, he sat down opposite, the action entirely belying his words.
"Just satisfy my curiosity." John pushed, as if he was the only one who wanted to talk about it. It was the only way this would work. He had to pretend Sherlock was doing him the favour, instead of the other way round.
"Today it was Donovan. Well, amongst others, but hers rang true."
"And she said?"
Sherlock sighed as though he found the exercise a pointless waste of his time. But no matter what he protested to the contrary, John knew that if that was true he wouldn't still be sat here. He might never admit that he needed to tell someone, but his continued presence at the kitchen table admitted it for him.
"She asked after you. Suggested you had made a lucky escape from me. Called me a freak eight times. Disgusting twice. Rude once. Just the usual really."
John frowned. Sherlock wasn't the only disgusting rude freak. Sally Donovan had joined the club.
"Well, you are rude, we all know that," John pointed out, addressing the easiest issue. He gave a little smile at Sherlock's raised eyebrow, "But things would take a lot longer if you weren't."
Sherlock's lips twitched at the side. He nodded, touche.
"As for disgusting, some of the things you entertain yourself with are a little beyond matters of hygiene." John gestured casually towards the pots on the kitchen counter, filled with goodness only knew what, but even John could smell them from there. "But how else do people learn, if not by stretching the boundaries of acceptability?"
Sherlock looked pondering at that. As if he wanted to protest that his experiments were perfectly hygienic, but at the same time wanted to think of himself as stretching boundaries in the name of science.
"And you are a freak."
Shocked eyes flew up to John's. He could see the flare of hurt in them, the dismay that John agreed with everyone else, even after all this time, and had actually told him so. He looked away a second too late to conceal his reaction.
"You are," he continued, and reached to Sherlock's hand, nudging his knuckles reassuringly, "A complete and utter freak of nature. There is none like you. You are a totally amazing marvellous brilliant freak."
"Ridiculous." He snorted.
"Yes, you are. And next time someone calls you a freak I think you should turn around and thank them. Because it is a compliment. I, for one, would love to be able to separate myself from the masses. A little distinguishment from the pool of ignorance would be nice sometimes."
Sherlock chuckled then and reached for his tea, "I knew this conversation would be a waste of time."
John grinned into his mug. As if.