Sherlock's beginning to figure things out. Faster than John is for sure.

Irreplaceable

"Splendid job, John. I commend your cooking abilities."

John looked across the table at Sherlock and smirked. "Couldn't have done it without my handy-dandy assistant. You're quite skilled at grating cheese and slicing vegetables."

Small praise though it was, Sherlock looked smug, shifting contentedly in his seat. John couldn't help but notice that his flatmate's collar was mussed, blooming around his neck like an orchid, his tie undone and hanging loosely. John clenched a fist, squelching the sudden urge to reach over and straighten them.

He didn't know why he had such (bothersome) urges towards Sherlock. Or perhaps he knew and was just ignoring them.

Sherlock stabbed his fork into the lasagna and took a bite. "In all seriousness, though, thank you. It's thanks to you that I've developed better eating habits and have more stamina. Plus, thanks to your skills, my paycheck manages to stick around a little longer." Sherlock looked up and gave a ghost of a smile, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I never knew you'd turn out to be so useful."

"What a thing to say to your trustworthy and ever-faithful assistant," grumbled John, only half-serious. "I stick with you through rain and snow and wade through red tape and murder cases and all you're grateful for is my domestic capabilities."

When Sherlock didn't answer, John looked up from his plate and felt his breath catch.

It was gone in an instant but the look reflected on Sherlock's face was the warmest and most openly happy that John had ever seen it. "I'd forgotten how much you make me want to laugh," he said mildly, slipping back into the disinterested persona quickly.

John quickly looked back down, pretending to be transfixed by kalamata olives and romaine lettuce. "Why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Laugh."

John glanced up to find his flatmate watching him curiously. "I do. When I feel like it."

To that John had no answer, for enough had been said.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Upon discovering that Mrs. Hudson was a fan of action movies, John eagerly browsed her collection while Sherlock stood by, content with watching anything.

As John sorted through DVDs, Sherlock pulled his phone form his pocket when he felt a buzz.

Dinner and a movie? Seems an awful lot like a date. MH

Sherlock glanced lazily around the flat without moving, knowing that Mycroft had spyware all over the place but not finding himself too concerned with it (It's Mycroft, he thought cattily).

You don't know anything. SH

I know that you haven't been giving John the attention and appreciation he deserves for putting up with you and being your only friend. MH

This made Sherlock's hackles raise a bit but he didn't want to let Mycroft know. I have friends outside of John. Give my social skills a bit more credit. SH

I will deign to raise your social skills to higher esteem than a piranha's. MH

"Sherlock, what do you think about this one?" asked John, holding up a DVD box.

Sherlock barely glanced at it. "I am indifferent, John; whatever you wish to watch I will deign to endure." Dammit, I sound like Mycroft.

You're beginning to sound like me. MH

Shut up. Jim is a friend. SH

Jim is a temporary distraction that is fascinating you because he is different than John and more like you. But you certainly don't need another Sherlock. No one does, for that matter. Good Lord, can you imagine what kind of hell would break loose? MH

You overextend your boundaries. Who I choose to spend my time with is not any of your business. SH

John doesn't like him. MH

This gave Sherlock pause as he glanced up at his flatmate again, who was debating between two movies, figuratively weighing each in a different hand.

And neither do I. I have a bad sense about him. So does John, and we both know to trust John's senses, I hope. MH

I do not have a solid grasp on John's methods of character judgement. SH

Excuses. MH

Logic. SH

Cowardice. MH

Pragmatism. How could John know anything? He's barely talked to Jim. Jim thinks like me. I've needed someone who thinks like me. He gives me what no one else can. SH

That's not what you need. MH

Sherlock turned off his phone as John decided on a movie and turned around, smiling at him. I think I know what I need, Mycroft.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"I didn't realize you were so sentimental, John."

"But- but-! He died! Who will his son live with now?"

"Why are you so flustered? It's a movie."

"Don't you care?"

"About an actor in a fictional story? No."

"What if he was a real person?"

"Again, no. People find their ways, John..." Sherlock hopped up from the couch and ejected the disc to put it back in the case, leaving John with the bowl of snacks that they'd shared during the movie.

"It would be best if you get some sleep, now, John. Don't you have a test tomorrow?"

John nodded, stretching and yawning. He hesitated, and Sherlock could practically see the thought flicking across his face: And you have a case. A case you're not bringing me to. A case you've decided to bring Jim to instead.

Sherlock felt a twinge of uneasiness settle in his stomach. He turned around and stalked pompously towards the mantle where he kept his skull, trying to hide his discomfort and the uncharacteristic decision he was about to make. "It's going to be a busy day tomorrow, John."

"Ah...yes. I'm sure it will be." The hesitancy and strange quality of loneliness in John's tone made Sherlock's chest tighten.

"I need you at the crime scene tomorrow at six. I'll text you the address."

John's voice showed his surprise. "Wait...what? I thought you were bringing...Jim."

Sherlock turned around, making swift and sure eye contact with his flatmate, pinning him in place. "Jim hasn't taken your spot, John. You're coming with me tomorrow. He's not."

A slow smile slipped onto John's face. Sherlock, in turn, felt something within him shift.

Prompt was #63: orchid