Sherlock was spread along the sofa with John's lap acting as a pillow for his head. John played absently with his partner's dark curls as he flicked through the channels. The detective was facing the ceiling with his thin fingers steepled under his chin, lost deep within the walls of his mind palace.

Sherlock was removing irrelevant data and storing away recently received information on his latest case. John was partly watching a programme on TV while partly daydreaming.

The couple lay peacefully like that for an hour before John's voice dragged Sherlock out of his mind palace. The detective huffed before asking, "What was that?"

The doctor looked down at his partner with a slight expression of shock, "Umm... Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

"Why do you need to talk to yourself when you've got me?" Sherlock couldn't deny that he was a little bit offended by John's actions. "What did you say?"

"I only said that the actor on this programme is good looking." The blonde mumbled while avoiding eye contact.

Sherlock's head snapped around to see which actor his partner was taking a fancy to. He almost groaned when he realised John was watching a crime drama. He couldn't stand the inaccuracies in those detective programmes.

"Which one?" The consulting detective snapped defensively.

John waited for the main character for appear on screen again before saying, "That one there."

Sherlock laughed bitterly, "He looks like a horse!"

The taller man then moved to the other end of the sofa and away from John in a fit of jealously. Sherlock waited for John to respond to his comment and was a bit disappointed when the doctor didn't take the bait.

"What is this rubbish anyway?!" The ebony haired man demanded to know. John looked over at him with a small frown.

"I don't know. It was the only thing on. It's a detective thing but it has Rupert Graves in it!" The doctor has always had a soft spot for the actor. Sherlock knew this and couldn't stop a small smile from breaking onto his face. "I still think he looks like Lestrade!" The consulting detective chuckled lightly before remembering that he was supposed to be in a strop.

Sherlock scoffed before turning to face the back of the sofa. John immediately knew something was wrong with his partner.

"Sherlock? What's wrong?" The soldier sighed as Sherlock ignored him. "Come on, Sherlock. Speak to me."

"Why don't you go and talk to that?!" The sociopath sneered while waving an elegant hand vaguely at the TV.

"Because Sherlock, he seems a right dick." John said soothingly and with a slight smile.

Sherlock mumbled something under his breath.

"You know I can't hear you, love." Despite Sherlock's strop John was staying calm and composed.

The sociopath sighed then proceeded to turn his head and glare at his partner, "I said that you call me a dick sometimes."

"I do." The blonde chuckled.

The two men sat in silence until the credits began to roll up the screen along with a ridiculously catchy theme tune. The doctor hummed to himself as a name came onto the screen.

"Benedict Cumberbatch." He muttered to himself.

"What now, John?!" Sherlock demanded.

"Benedict Cumberbatch. It's a strange name, don't you think?" The soldier asked pleasantly. The detective rolled his eyes when he realised who Benedict Cumberbatch was.

Sherlock huffed and folded his arms tighter. He continued to scowl at the back of the sofa.

As the theme music stopped, the credits ended and John rose to his feet while stretching out his arms. The genius turned his head a little bit so he could watch his partner's actions.

"I'm off to bed. Are you coming?" The soldier asked while smiling fondly at his detective.

Sherlock just huffed again and turned his head back to glare at the back of the sofa. John chuckled softly and shuffled out to the bedroom that they shared.

About an hour later, Sherlock padded into the bedroom. The detective changed quickly before quickly getting into bed. He rolled onto his side to avoid contact with John. After all, why would John want to touch him when he could go and find Benedict Crumpetpatch?

It took less than a minute for the soldier to realise something was still wrong, "Sherlock? What's wrong?"

"Why are you talking to me? I'm sure you'd rather talk to Bendylick Cucumberpatch!" The detective snapped.

"Sherlock! Stop being childish and turn around!" John ordered.

"No! I'm sure you'd rather look at Cumberbum seeing that you think he is so handsome!" The genius sniped back quickly.

The blonde doctor chuckled softly before laying a warm hand on the detective's shoulder, "Are you jealous, Sherlock?"

The taller man scoffed and folded his arms.

"I can't believe you haven't noticed this yourself or even heard about it." The detective had to admit, he was now curious.

"Heard what?" Sherlock turned his head to look at John.

"I'll show you." With that John hurried off into the living room. The sociopath was beyond confused.

The doctor was back within moments carrying his laptop with him. He settled down onto the bed and leant against the headboard with the laptop on his thighs.

Sherlock shuffled up into a sitting position as well and peered at the screen as John typed something into Google. Hundreds of pictures popped up and John selected the clearest one. He enlarged it before passing the laptop to Sherlock.

The genius frowned as he took in what was on the screen. There was a picture of two men. One was of himself and the other was of this Benderducked Cumberbash.

He read the passage underneath the images. It was claiming that the two men were practically identical. His frown deepened in confusion. Does this mean that John only likes Crumbledbatch because he looks like me?

John could read the thoughts that were blooming in the detective's head, "Yes, Sherlock. I only like him because he looks like you, you daft fool."

The sociopath sat bewildered for a minute before crying out, "But I don't look like a horse!"