Sherlock has a reply ready for that, about John and having girls over and the morning coffee, but he's cut right off when John carries on through into the offensive. That was rather unexpected, and it takes him back for a moment.
The worst of it is that John's... not wrong. At least not entirely. It would be so much easier if the cases meant to John what they meant to him, if he could get the same sense of satisfaction from them that Sherlock did. Of course, John enjoys the rush, he thrives on the danger-- they've established that. But John is right, there's more that John wants, that he needs - even if he is wrong about that missing piece being a normal life. Sherlock could be completely satisfied with cases, with new mysteries to solve and working them to completion with John at his side, but for John that's just not enough, and... is that it? Is he afraid of what people would think of him beneath it all? Not people, not people who don't matter, but John.
Maybe. There's a flicker of something on his face like uncertainty, and it gives him away, that he's vulnerable. Human. He wants to be enough even though he hardly knows what it is he wants, because as perceptive as he is, he can't turn all that intellect inwards.
"It's not assumption if it's correct." No, then it's deduction. It's knowing.
He's not even going to address the rest, because he's not trying to get John to concede that he's better (besides, he already has in so many ways). He's trying to get John to realize that what he keeps trying to run from is what gets him going, and see what he does with that.
"Put inelegantly, what I'm saying is that you keep chasing after boring when danger is what gets. You. Off," and with that there's a pointed brush of his fingers against his own pale, untouched neck, where John's neck carries the brush of rope burn from earlier and the memory of it from yesterday in the kitchen.
no subject
The worst of it is that John's... not wrong. At least not entirely. It would be so much easier if the cases meant to John what they meant to him, if he could get the same sense of satisfaction from them that Sherlock did. Of course, John enjoys the rush, he thrives on the danger-- they've established that. But John is right, there's more that John wants, that he needs - even if he is wrong about that missing piece being a normal life. Sherlock could be completely satisfied with cases, with new mysteries to solve and working them to completion with John at his side, but for John that's just not enough, and... is that it? Is he afraid of what people would think of him beneath it all? Not people, not people who don't matter, but John.
Maybe. There's a flicker of something on his face like uncertainty, and it gives him away, that he's vulnerable. Human. He wants to be enough even though he hardly knows what it is he wants, because as perceptive as he is, he can't turn all that intellect inwards.
"It's not assumption if it's correct." No, then it's deduction. It's knowing.
He's not even going to address the rest, because he's not trying to get John to concede that he's better (besides, he already has in so many ways). He's trying to get John to realize that what he keeps trying to run from is what gets him going, and see what he does with that.
"Put inelegantly, what I'm saying is that you keep chasing after boring when danger is what gets. You. Off," and with that there's a pointed brush of his fingers against his own pale, untouched neck, where John's neck carries the brush of rope burn from earlier and the memory of it from yesterday in the kitchen.