Sherlock knew perfectly well that John was hiding something from him. It would have been obvious to anyone — the man was a terrible liar. But he said nothing, merely glancing sidelong at his boyfriend with a dubious look whenever he said something particularly strange, and continued to keep his mouth shut. Whatever it is involves Harry and the flat, he thought while they ate brunch (or rather, while Sherlock picked food off John's plate at lunch). In truth, he suspected it was related to their search for a new, larger residence. The timing was just too convenient. Checking his mobile again Sherlock noted, watching John from over the rim of his mug. Two cups of coffee. He's nervous. Doesn't know how I'll react to the surprise.
It was ... strangely endearing.
"The second one. Brownstone," Sherlock replied, because really, he was going to find out what was happening whenever Harry (because of course it was Harry) texted the man back. He just had to wait. "A deck attached to the kitchen for growing herbs, the common area would be convenient for clients, and Harry could have her own floor." Sherlock resisted the urge to peek at John's phone screen, but it was a near thing. "And you?"