After spending many months with John he realized that the man had a case of OCD when it came to his gun. Every two weeks on a Saturday afternoon he would clean the thing even though he hardly ever used it. If he didn't get to do it he seemed to get distracted until he'd done it. Today was that day.
"Sherlock I need the kitchen table." John looked at him with intent in his eyes.
As much as this annoyed Sherlock he cleared the table for him making sure that he'd cleaned it properly. If he didn't John would get angry with him. He then waited until John came down with the weapon and his box of cleaning gear. First John would check the table was clean before setting out his towel to protect the table. He then put his cleaning cloths and equipment on the right hand side and the cleaning fluids and lubing oil on left. He then put his protective glasses on and began to work.
As he dismantled the gun each piece went on to the same place on the table as he had done every time Sherlock had seen him. Although he was in John's line of sight the man didn't see him. It was as if he'd become an automaton in his actions with the gun. Each action was precise and quick. It was obvious to Sherlock that this was a well practiced routine and was something that had become a ritual.
Soon the gun was put back together and the items were put back in the box starting with the cleaning equipment then the cleaning fluids and then the cleaning cloths ending with the towel on the table. Sherlock had retreated back to the sofa in the living room while John did his final tidying up. He walked past Sherlock without noticing him as he took everything back upstairs.
When John came down Sherlock gave him smile. "Tea John?"
"Sure. Thank you." John said in surprise.
Sherlock said nothing as he made the tea but he saw everything. All was as it should be and John was settled, at least until the next time.