It had been quite some time since John's stuttering questioning regarding Sherlock's sexual preferences, for which the other man was glad. However, it was also a bit bemusing. For although John had seemed... well, interested, for lack of a better word, he'd never brought it up after that; even if the world did keep on assuming that they were... what was that hideous sentimental word?... ah, a couple. Since then, John had gone out on numerous dates; and none of them even slightly successful. The nearest his friend had had to successful had been Sarah; but then, she seemed like the feisty type who apparently liked some sort of danger. As far as Sherlock knew, the two weren't exclusive, but there was certainly a spark there.
And then there was... the ... protection he felt towards his flatmate. A puzzling thing; to which Sherlock had first just simply denounced as being normal; but it wasn't normal. For this was Sherlock; the freak, the genius, the one without-a-heart... and yet, he could not deny that John was... doing things to him. Total and complete sentiment, of course, but true nonetheless. It was rather annoying, really.
Standing up, the brunette moved over to the window, having heard a taxi pull up. Sure enough, he noted his flatmate leaving the taxi - no woman following... hmm. Shaking his head, the detective pulled his violin from its case, and settled back on the sofa, cradling the violin as he tuned it into submission, needing to get John out of his thoughts.