"You treat me differently." Sherlock said unexpectedly and almost accusingly into the peaceful silence governing the flat.
John tugged himself out of his crossword. "Sorry, I'll stop."
"No, don't. It's good-different."
Silence.
"Good-different… how, exactly?"
Sherlock tapped the microscope he was squinting through. "Most people view me as a science experiment. Lestrade pokes me to see what I'll do next and I suspect that Mrs. Hudson thinks I'm a friendly alien."
"Hm." John shifted in his seat. "Ahem. I don't think you're an experiment."
"I know. It's… refreshing. You treat me like I'm a real person."
"Well, you are-"
"Don't be silly, of course I'm not," Sherlock said impatiently, flapping a dismissive hand as if the question of his humanity had long been decided. But then he looked up and graced John with one of his rare, genuine smiles, like the sun blazing out from behind a cloud for only the briefest moment. "but having someone think that about me is rather nice."
Hello, my dear and loyal readers! I have no excuse for not updating this in a year except that I had a lot to do (and still do). But I was reading through this and remembered how much fun it was to write these. So I tried another. Unfortunately this is unlikely to be updated regularly again (see profile for explanation). But I hope you enjoy :)
~Featherz