John had been the one forced to clean up the flat, since Sherlock wouldn't care unless it was a direct threat to his health, his life, or his experiments, and even then John wasn't sure. He was sorting through the piles of paper under his desk when he came across it.

He examined it, but couldn't ascertain its meaning. He sighed, knowing this probably wasn't going to end great. He got to his feet and approached the detective, perched at his microscope for hours straight not, probably not having noticed what John was doing, and certainly not caring.

"Sherlock, what does this mean?" John asked him, holding out the business cards with the letters 'aspie' on it, capitalized and bolded, a telephone number and name underneath, with a tagline about discovering and unlocking your true potential.

Sherlock barely glanced at it before returning to his experiment.

"It means persons with acute sensory perception and intelligent excellence."

John ran through the letters in his head. It was an acronym. A highly suspiciously made up sounding one, but one nonetheless.

"You just made that up," John scolded lightly.

"No I didn't," Sherlock replied, not even bothering to look up from the microscope slide he was examining.

John felt a flicker of doubt. Sherlock sounded so sure of himself, but John had witnessed him put on the same air of confidence before and watched it crumble as soon as it could.

Yes you did, John thought to himself with a smile, and nodded, but they both knew he was just going along with it.

Neither of them knew why they kept going along with it, since they both knew they both knew otherwise. But some things were just left unspoken, and John supposed this was one of them.