Sherlock stood there for a moment, waiting to see if John was going to say anything else.

When it was obvious that he was not, he shrugged and walked back to his throne, slumping down once more.

John knew damn well what he meant, and if he was going to be an arse about it, then Sherlock would wait. That plug wasn't going anywhere until John gave him an explanation, he decided. Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall. He didn't care how long it took.

He could wait.