Time will tell. That's the beautiful thing about time.
It will tell you how you feel about your flatmate, and eventually how he feels about you. It will tell you what to do about those feelings, how to express them, how to make them grow. And as days turn into weeks, and weeks into years, time will tell you nearly everything you need to know about the man you love. Some of the things learned are momentous, most are not. All of them are dear.
Here, in no particular order are some of the things John has learned about Sherlock, and some of the things Sherlock has learned about John:
* John only just barely sweats. Sure he perspires when he's exerted himself or it's hot, but it's almost as if he's doing it to be polite, his forehead just sort of dewy, his skin kind of glowy. It's distracting mostly, but what's completely unjust is that he never stinks, which, you know, is generally part of the human condition but not, apparently, part of John. They have run through half of London some nights and when they're back at the flat Sherlock can barely stand next to himself he's in want of a shower so badly, but John? John just smells of tea and slightly damp wool. Sherlock makes him get in the shower with him anyway.
* Sherlock doesn't really like dogs. He won't say why but John figures it's because a dog will not be stunned into silence by Sherlock's rhetoric, nor intimidated by his invective. The real reason—of which neither is aware—is that Sherlock has a mild allergy to canines and tends to feel fluish when he's near them.
* John parts his hair differently, depending on his mood after a shower. Some weeks his part is on the right, and all is, well, right, with the world, and some weeks his part is on the left and just as Sherlock is getting used to that—he looks at John a lot, you know—the man moves his part again and Sherlock has to get used to that and then—
* Sherlock would be a jewelry-wearing sort of man if he didn't have such a non-jewelry kind of lifestyle running down dark alleys and getting tackled to the ground by criminals. He wouldn't go for anything too flashy mind you, just a few things to off-set his bone structure, maybe a couple rings, perhaps a tasteful cuff. If John knew of this predilection he would almost certainly deck Sherlock out like a high-class hooker, slathering those long fingers in silver, his ears in tiny hoops or studs, and his neck in thin, elegant chains. Harem pants would, of course, be optional.
* When John was eight he devoured his first science fiction book and began a life-long affair with the genre. But like romance novels, sci-fi gets no respect, so John doesn't tell most people about his love of all things Martian, or robotic, or alien. He has told Sherlock however because Sherlock's from another planet anyway and it doesn't seem to bother him.
* Sherlock knows his brother is smarter than he is and while everyone thinks that drives him mad, it doesn't. He can guarantee you that there are dozens, maybe even hundreds of people brighter than he is in almost every way. What bothers him about Mycroft's brain is that it is so poorly used. Knowing the precisely right words to say to a pompous politician, or how to outwit the machinations of a magisterial monarch sound like such a boring waste of a perfectly good brain that Sherlock is cross with Mycroft most of the time simply on principle.
* John is five foot seven inches tall and though he's usually dated women smaller than he is, he never forgets that he's only five foot seven inches tall. Why he carries that information around in his head as if it were the same as saying asthmatic, or migraine-sufferer—as if it were a manageable but annoying disability—he can't tell you. But then came Sherlock. Sherlock who loves curling his longer frame around John's smaller one, who seems to find sustenance from the simple press of John's face against his neck when they hug. Never again will John wish to be anything more than five foot seven inches tall.
* If Sherlock sees John's jar of Marmite on the kitchen table he will literally turn around and leave the room. When they were growing up Mycroft used to make him breakfasts of Marmite on hot buttered toast and though he'd liked it for years, by the time he reached twelve some chemical change appears to have happened in his body and suddenly he could not abide the stuff. At this stage in his life the very smell of its…its browness is enough to nearly empty Sherlock's stomach of the little he usually has in there. John thought about switching to peanut butter and jam on his toast, like some sort of crazy American, but he has his limits, too.
* Before the army, John wasn't a particularly tidy person. After the army some switch was thrown into the upright and locked position because now he loves the adage "a place for everything and everything in its place" and if you go into his bedroom it shows. Sometimes, John'll find Sherlock in there doing some bit of critical thinking "because your room isn't as noisy as mine." Once John tried to straighten Sherlock's room for this reason—a kind of 'we've been together eight months' anniversary present—but the melt down the detective had was not worth the almost-angry sex they'd enjoyed after that fight.
* The one thing Sherlock will eat until he is sick is sweets. Put a pound of wine gums in front of him while he's watching a movie (boring!) with John and he will devour every last colorful morsel without regret (until later). Hand him a jar of jam and a spoon while he's talking about work and he will gorge on the entire thing without remorse (until later). While on a case once John watched him put back seven shots of syrupy cherry cordial as he interviewed a suspect, he's seen him put six teaspoons of sugar in a six ounce cup of tea, and watched him sweeten a sausage once by dipping it straight into the sugar bowl.
* John has a bad habit of mentioning on his blog interesting cases that he never writes up. On more than one occasion a slightly-miffed reader has commented, "Wait, what? What's this about The Case of the Left Testicle? Did you really just write that? Did you actually have a case about a testicle? Where is it? Seriously, I'm looking for the link but I don't see any case about a testicle!" He's getting better about avoiding this faux pas, but just last week John had a reader comment bomb him (fifty five missives in fifty three minutes) because he'd mentioned The Case of the Amorous Police Horse but neglected to flesh that one out at all.
* Sherlock doesn't care for pet names unless John is the one giving and saying them. Yet even then not all pet names are created equal. Sherlock loves it when John calls him sweetheart, or baby, or my love when they're in bed, and he also secretly likes being called 'Lock when they're puttering around at home. But John has been forbidden from using the terms snookems, cuddle bear, Sherly, or sugar butt under pain of Tchaikovsky's Concerto for Violin in D Major being played for twenty minutes straight on a purposely out-of-tune violin.
* It's not natural for John to be physically demonstrative in public. He wants to be. He makes an effort to be. He will hold Sherlock's hand, he will kiss him, yet it's not a natural thing for him. It took awhile, but eventually he learned that the next best thing when kissing or handholding just didn't seem right—for example, when they were on a case and half of Scotland Yard was around—was whispering. For example, sometimes, if he wants to point out a salient medical fact about a body he'll sidle over to Sherlock, stand on tiptoe, and whisper it very softly in his ear. Usually he's rewarded with a skittering of goosebumps all down Sherlock's rather amazing neck.
* It's not natural for Sherlock to be physically demonstrative except with John, sometimes Mrs. Hudson, and Mycroft only as pertains to poking him in the chest with a violin bow. When he and John are out in public and he has already kissed the man eight times, held his hand for an hour, or hugged him until he's actually received a complaint from the doctor about the state of his ribs, Sherlock will switch things up by whispering in John's ear. Usually the things he says should be whispered for they are often completely filthy (though warmly received). Usually Sherlock is rewarded with a very pretty blush all down John's rather lovely neck.
To be continued, until we learn 156 things about John and 156 about Sherlock. Why that number? Just popped into my head. Felt like a good challenge to go that high. And really, I have no idea. Speaking of ideas thank you Caroline I for the one that John is very neat; Caroline II, thanks for the tip that Sherlock hates Marmite; and Loann thank you for telling me Sherlock loves jam and knows Mycroft is smarter than he is. You are all wonderful.