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"Saying it's pointless doesn't make it so!" John was tired of yelling down the stairs at his impatient flatmate but he did so anyway, just because there was no other way to deal with Sherlock than to provide him with all of his attention or none of it. If he hadn't already agreed to the course they'd set for the evening, he'd have pissed off and gone to the pub with Mike.
But alas, no. He was stuck in his dress uniform, looking proud and perfect and feeling nothing of the sort. He didn't bother to adjust his medals or even to place them on the front of the jacket.
Honestly, if he hadn't thought that this would stop Sherlock from being so dour after the mess with Irene and his recent trip abroad which had resulted in no solved case, John would have never agreed to it. He slipped into his shined dress shoes and left his room, proud and straight like a soldier. It wasn't that he hated the opera, it was that he hated how Sherlock behaved at the opera. Or any performance. Or...anywhere in public.
Especially lately. He was so impossibly mean all the time.
At the bottom of the stairs, John frowned at Sherlock still fussing with his bow-tie. Oh. The man hadn't been yelling up at him after all. But yelling at his tuxedo's finishing touch. He had to laugh. "Which is it when it comes to tying a bow-tie? Never learned or deleted it long ago?"
But alas, no. He was stuck in his dress uniform, looking proud and perfect and feeling nothing of the sort. He didn't bother to adjust his medals or even to place them on the front of the jacket.
Honestly, if he hadn't thought that this would stop Sherlock from being so dour after the mess with Irene and his recent trip abroad which had resulted in no solved case, John would have never agreed to it. He slipped into his shined dress shoes and left his room, proud and straight like a soldier. It wasn't that he hated the opera, it was that he hated how Sherlock behaved at the opera. Or any performance. Or...anywhere in public.
Especially lately. He was so impossibly mean all the time.
At the bottom of the stairs, John frowned at Sherlock still fussing with his bow-tie. Oh. The man hadn't been yelling up at him after all. But yelling at his tuxedo's finishing touch. He had to laugh. "Which is it when it comes to tying a bow-tie? Never learned or deleted it long ago?"
