Sherlock knew to the second when John had figured it out. To tell the truth he was slightly disappointed. He'd expected more fireworks. He'd expected John to gasp and then run from the room to go somewhere to think, to obsess, and to just figure out what he was going to do now that his whole sexual identity was called into question.

All he got was a half second panic attack and then nothing. John calmly went back to his newspaper. Why did John always surprise him so? Why did he never react the way Sherlock thought he would?

Sherlock had been agonizing over his own feelings, feelings he could have sworn were non-existent, since the Pool. Oh, he'd known almost from the instant he'd met John that he would love him. He'd just been unaware of exactly how much the other man would come to mean to him until stupid Moriarty tried to blow them up.

So Sherlock was agonizing over what it meant and what was going to change now. And sweet, dependable, funny, loyal John? Well, he was being infuriatingly unpredictable! Instead of hysterics and denial and whatever else straight men did when they figured out that they were gay, John calmly accepted it and moved on!

What was Sherlock supposed to do now? Tell John that he knew that John was in love with him? Right, that would be an extremely bad idea. No one ever liked it when he showed off his deductive skills. Well, no one but John. This was different though. What if John didn't want him to know? What if he wasn't ready for a relationship yet?

Normally he let John's reactions guide him. John was far better with human interaction than he was. Well, then, he'd just do the same here. He would wait until John made the first move and then he'd respond and they'd live forever, together. That was the most sensible plan. Now then, that bit of cat hair on the victim's uncle's trousers; that was suspicious.

The victim didn't have a cat, nor did the uncle. But the victim's boyfriend did! Aha! So the uncle was shagging the boyfriend. Now did they conspire to kill the victim together? Need more data.

"Come, John, we must go talk to the uncle again." Sherlock jumped up off the couch and headed for the door.

"Of course, Sherlock," John set aside his paper and stood. "Er, why?"

"Cat hair, John!" Sherlock called back as he loped out the door and down the stairs. "Do keep up!"