[It was quite obvious to anyone who saw him that Sherlock was, well, beautiful. He wasn't classically handsome, and one might even say he was odd when they first looked at him-long and lean in every aspect of his proportions and features, pale skin paired with dark hair and the contrasts making his eyes and lips and cheekbones stand out prominently from his face--but the oddities were part of what took one's breath away, and John wasn't impervious at all, even when seeing the detective nearly every hour of the day. Always stylish, always well groomed (somehow too even when just dressed in a sheet), and always the center of attention.

Which made it all the more surreal and unbelievable when that man's attention was fixed solely on him, especially when it had to do with physical looks. John resisted tugging at his high collar in the flare of warmth in his neck and ears.]

...Glad you approve.

[He attempted to say casually, opening his arms and then dropping them back to his sides in a gesture indicating all of himself for said approval--just his uniform or perhaps his being in general, it's unspecified.]

Wouldn't want you to have an unstylish.... [Oh Christ, what word should he use...?] partner at this party of yours. Though I understand if you ditch me for Evelyn for the dancing portion of it.

[He says with a wry chuckle.]