We’re doing fairly well. My old room is now a place for Sherlock to keep some of his lengthy experiments in. I think we’re growing in comfort with each other more. It used to be that he would only let me mess with his hair or interlock our fingers on some, very rare, occasions, but over the last few months it all has grown to something much more deeper. We’re accepting it now, slowly but surely. Agreed?

Hmm? Oh, right…. yes.

We’re going to the opera tonight, if anyone cares.

His idea.

Yes. And we’re not going to complain just because we’re trying something new.

Not new, actually. I went often when I was young.

I can’t just throw away the tickets, Sherlock. If you didn’t want to go you could have just told me earlier and this all could have been-

I never asked you to pitch them. I only stated that going was your idea. And although I am rather surprised you acted this way, you shouldn’t be offended. I’m quite flattered you planned this all specifically for us to have a nice night out.

Thank you.

Not a problem. 

You should wash up first, though.

Give me a minute to finish this and I’ll get in the shower.