Sherlock can't help but smile at John's appropriation of the credit. It's true; he's not bothered. Modesty is pointless when it's dishonest, but... well. Generally other people don't feel that way. He suspects he might be a terrible influence, but really can't bring himself to care. Bluntness pleases him much more than evasion. Much more interesting to know what John really thinks than what he thinks he's supposed to think, which is probably mostly the same thing as everybody else.

“Looks as though you have,” he agrees drily once John's cup has gone sailing off after his own, leaving a trail of water behind it. Sherlock watches it spread out over the flooring with one eyebrow raised, watches it seep into cracks and indentations, dribble along paths of least resistance. Well, he meant it, John does have a knack for it, at least given current, admittedly limited evidence. Timing's more amusing this way though, with the implication of skepticism.

“Learn a bit of Latin and you won't even need me anymore,” he adds. A quick summoning charm has the cups sailing back to him and he plucks them neatly out of the air before moving to reset them.

“You'll be brilliant.”