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Do I confuse you or am I simply different? Or perhaps its closer to a sort of pride in ownership sort of thing.

What? "Ownership"? No.... No, nothing like that, Sherlock.

..."Ownership." Jeez...

...You want an explanation that badly?

I wouldn't say badly but I am interested to know.

And don't get tetchy over my word choice. You know what I mean.

You're... Yes, I suppose you are the exception.

But that's not to say you don't confuse me, too.

Edited 2012-08-13 06:18 (UTC)

You're an exception because you're so different then anyone else I've had in my life and it shouldn't be this easy to just accept it and sometimes I can't but letting any of it go isn't an option.

[He doesn't know what the proper response to that is so it takes him a while but eventually he texts back.]

You are an exception for me as well. I'm not confused, perhaps too cognizant really, but you are forever my John regardless.

[He's surprised over the ease of the possessive term before his name--not to mention a bit giddy, which is embarrassing for a man his age--so his own response is awkward and eventual.]

Right. That's... that's good. That's great.

Uhm. So, is this party of yours formal or what?

[Sherlock accepts the change in conversation without missing a beat.]

Yes; black tie--not that I'm all that concerned with tie color or if ties are even worn but formal at any rate.

So... Would my dress uniform or a tux be more appropriate?

[...]

I don't think I've ever seen your dress uniform.

Edited 2012-08-14 01:53 (UTC)

You haven't? Really?

I wouldn't mind wearing it if you don't think it'll stand out too much.

No, not at all. You've earned the right to wear it, might as well wear it proudly.

Alright then, deal. I'll wear it to this ball of yours.

I'm honestly shocked you've never gone through my box of military things before, Sherlock. Well. Maybe less shocked and more... touched, I guess.

You make it sound as though you expect I went through your things when I got bored. I hardly needed to go through your possessions to learn more about you.

Do you think the closet can get you your uniform or shall we look through the vendor stalls?

As if that'd be a gigantic leap on your part. But I appreciate it, even if it was more out of pride then respecting my space on the matter.

I'll give it a shot when I get back to my room. Might as well see if it still looks good, right?

You've stayed in good enough shape for a man your age. I'm sure it will look fine but I won't disagree with the good sense to try it on before hand.

[Do want.]

Uh, well... Thank you. Sprinting about London might have something to do with it.

It seems like the closet worked. Won't know for sure until I try it on, of course, but it looks just like the one I left back in 221B.

Edited 2012-08-16 03:00 (UTC)

May I see?

[Not sure why John wouldn't want him to see him.]

Come on over if you'd like. No promises on how it's going to look, though.

[Sherlock goes over quite quickly. He's not occupied. He lets himself in rather than knock.]

John?

[John is fixing the cuff on a sharp, black dress uniform and gold buttons and looks up as the door opens, throwing his friend an awkward smile. He automatically stands a little straighter with the uniform on, and his fingers rub together in the absence of the white gloves, which are on the bed next to a pale blue hat, dog tags, and a few decorative medals and sash distinguishing his rank and medical career.]

Bit different.

[He says with an indication to the outfit, very aware of how different it can present him when one is used to seeing him in oversized jumpers and plaid collared shirts. Even if they've seen him pull rank before.]

[Sherlock stands back and looks him over. He's seen the uniform before in publication, probably in a parade or two, maybe on television, but never on John. He's known John was a soldier since the moment he laid eyes on him--literally--and he's had the pleasure of seeing a glimpse of the solider in a military setting. He's seen the wound on his shoulder, even. But this seems almost more indicative of that life before Sherlock. There's pride in how he holds himself, a humble eagerness to display his rank and demonstrate that he is so much more than appearances might suggest.

Sherlock nods his approval, glancing over at the items still waiting to be adorned.]

It suits you.

[Sherlock's scrutiny makes him stand even straighter, feet shoulder distance, his arms at his sides though it was obvious they felt awkward and were itching to fold behind his back. Having that brilliant gaze on him, considering, analyzing at a mile a minute... it was thrilling and made his heart pound in his ears for the moment of silence it brought. At the compliment, John wavers out of his military crisp personal and licks his lips, looking away then to the ground then eventually back to Sherlock, a quirked smile on his face.]

Thanks.

[He barely glances at himself in the mirror before considering the items still on the bed when he sees Sherlock's gaze go to them as well.]

Never had an occasion to wear it after I came back, so I'd kind of forgotten what it was like.

[Sherlock picks up a few things that would be fiddly for John to put on now that he's in his dress uniform and holds them against the sleeves or chest.]

Will you wear just this or these other bits as well?

[He pockets the dogtags as stealth-fully as possible.]

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