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Not for the first time did he storm out, wishing that just once, Sherlock would notice his absence. Damned perfect man, perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect mind. No, not so perfect, but perfect enough…more than John would ever be…if he would only notice. Notice the little things, the compliments, the tiny gifts, the patience with which he tolerated idiosyncrasies that most others despised and belittled. A man of this world but not of it, like an angel out of place, who didn’t always understand, could not understand. Little imperfections that would bother John far less if Sherlock would just notice.