“Mm,” Sherlock agrees. “Practically the same thing.”

Not remotely. Not remotely the same thing, most of the time, but they're only a ship of two. Balance is inevitable. Better.

Also not really relevant to the immediate situation. Sherlock grasps another book and lobs it up, blasting it into the other corner with a wave of his wand. It bounces off the wall with a loud smack and snaps shut on itself as it hits the floor. Satisfying, really. Shame they're almost done.

“Isn't as though we've anyone else to bother about anyhow.” Which is fine. Anyone else would only get in the way, and they're not John, besides. Sherlock is aware that his favouring of John might be indicative of an unreasonable bias, but then, he is the outlier in enough years of experience to consider him functionally unique. Even if there might be others, somewhere... John is here, and he was first, which makes him best.

Makes him... something Sherlock fully intends to keep.

"Here, let's see your aim," he says, picking up the next from the stack and getting ready to throw.