requested by cumberdame
John shoves his hands into his pockets and looks away for just a moment, just long enough to conjure up some proper words. “Well erm…" he begins, eyes coming back to Sherlock. “This has been—nice."
Sherlock doesn’t immediately reply. He steps back and peers up the side of the building, makes a non-committed sound.
"I wasn’t really—expecting it to be, you know? But it was," John continues, gaze averting for a split second. “I just—:"
"You’re on the third floor, yes?" Sherlock seems to ask the sky.
"Er—yeah," John replies, glancing to the buzzers. “Why—"
"Was calculating the amount of time it would take to get to your flat if you were to ask me up within the next minute or so," Sherlock says, also taking a moment to glance to the speakerbox. “Unless you’d intended to continue stammering like a teenager after formal."
"Oh, er, right," John says, with just a hint of pink round the ears. “Did you want to com—"
"I’d be delighted," Sherlock says, stepping forward. “Do lead the way—or else I will."
Oh my heart. This was perfect.
