"Rude. Won't express my concern anymore then, fine. I don't care." He tries for offended, really he does, but the low, helpless chuckles dispel the impression more than neatly. The obvious delight on his face clearly doesn't help either, nor the way he bends sideways to match the way John doubles over, all so he can get a better look.
What about laughter could possibly be so fascinating? It isn't a question Sherlock himself can answer, largely as it would mean trying to explain why it matters to him that the muscles of John's face tug at his skin the way they do, why it matters that Sherlock can see his teeth (and they're quite perfect, he'd noticed before but the noticing is different now), or hear the way his vocal folds are drawn tight with the sort of laughter that's impossible to resist, high-pitched, uncontrolled.
He likes that. Uncontrolled. Involuntary. It means it's all quite genuine. It means he's done something really rather good.
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"Rude. Won't express my concern anymore then, fine. I don't care." He tries for offended, really he does, but the low, helpless chuckles dispel the impression more than neatly. The obvious delight on his face clearly doesn't help either, nor the way he bends sideways to match the way John doubles over, all so he can get a better look.
What about laughter could possibly be so fascinating? It isn't a question Sherlock himself can answer, largely as it would mean trying to explain why it matters to him that the muscles of John's face tug at his skin the way they do, why it matters that Sherlock can see his teeth (and they're quite perfect, he'd noticed before but the noticing is different now), or hear the way his vocal folds are drawn tight with the sort of laughter that's impossible to resist, high-pitched, uncontrolled.
He likes that. Uncontrolled. Involuntary. It means it's all quite genuine. It means he's done something really rather good.