A/N: So… I started writing for the Sherlocking contest, but then I became… very very busy. So I cut out the bad bits and decided to post it. YAY.

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC y'all.

Summary: "Not that Watson isn't impressed; he's just not quite as stupid as Sherlock seemed to think he is."

:::

It's a cold day in Baker Street and Holmes is on the computer watching cat videos.

John thinks maybe Sherlock gets some sadistic pleasure from watching the felines- which are, admittedly, not the doctor's favorite animal by a long shot- fall of counters, run into glass doors, and, strangely, play instruments. His leg twinges psychosomatically. Holmes glances up from the screen.

"I don't encourage animal cruelty, John," he says, displaying his usual creepy perceptiveness. "Do you see me laughing?"

"Well, no."

Not that this man ever laughs.

"I laugh, John." He amends this. "I have laughed."

John doesn't look up from his paper, not willing to admit that Holmes has, once again, guessed his thoughts, because it will make the detective unbearably smug for the next few hours. He brings up another topic of conversation, one that has been bothering him recently. "Why aren't you looking into Mycroft's case? It seemed interesting enough,"

Holmes shuts John's laptop (he has by now commandeered it for his own use) and picks up a puzzle book John bought for him last week in the hopes of discouraging destructive behavior. He stares at the first page for a few seconds, but then throws the book away, sighing.

"How do you people find these things entertaining?" He rests his elbows on the desk and clenches his fists.

"What, cat videos?"

Holmes rolls his eyes. "These…" he makes an arm gesture that encompasses the whole room "All these things."

"Sudoku puzzles?" John's thickheadedness has gone too far this time, and Holmes ignores him and begins to sulk. The silence is deafening. It goes on for a full five minutes before John puts down his paper. "Fine. Please elaborate on why you won't take Mycroft's case."

Holmes stands up and walks aimlessly to the window, the picture of Bohemian disinterest. "The case presents no points of consequence to me; I believe you were in the room when I informed my brother of the fact."

"I was. And I believe I told you that that wasn't a real reason and that you're just being childish."

Holmes shrugs. "Perhaps I am. But the case is still boring."

"So…" John looks down at his paper. Greek Ambassador still missing, the front page shouts at him. "So you can't solve it."

Holmes whirls around, dressing gown creating a dramatic, cape-like affect. "I can! I just don't want to."

John picks up the paper again and opens it to conceal his grin. "Right. Of course." He's gotten to know Sherlock quite well over the past few weeks, and the thing that has struck him most dramatically is the man's insatiable desire for praise. He won't stop working until he has coerced a Gosh, Sherlock! You impress me so! out of his wide-eyed flatmate. Not that Watson isn't impressed; he's just not quite as stupid as Sherlock seemed to think he is.

Holmes stands still, quiet, arms folded and head downcast. John peeks from above his paper. "Sherlock?" Holmes waves him into silence.

After what seems like a second but is probably two, Sherlock begins muttering deductions under his breath. "He said the girl was frightened… spoke only Greek… So obviously not the Ambassador… her sister, perhaps? No, she has only brothers, one can tell from the way she cuts her hair…"

John's grin widens.