They’re not horrid, but I think the blame is John’s on that one. He really did make it more entertaining.  I never did declare them bad, simply dull, which I do think they are. I enjoyed myself, nonetheless.

Sherlock, your face lit up with glee when I bought you a candy floss.

Mycroft always got to have them.

Why did your family deprive you of such things?

It was almost like an unspoken joke. I sat in the corner thinking, they talked about the weather and sports and other random trivial information that I blocked out. It was under my doing.

I’m really quite apologetic because you missed out on so much.

Don’t be, it was my choice. May you do me a favor?

What would it be?

Can you grab me a cup of tea?

Only if you watch episodes of Doctor Who with me.

Seeing that I am case-less, sure. 

Wonderful.

Why do you always say that when I do something along the lines of ‘normal’?

Because it’s wonderful to have you do such things. I’m happy to spend time with you.

So you’re unhappy when I’m on cases and such?

No, it’s just that I don’t have the chance to talk to you like I would now. I’m glad that you’re doing something you love; I just long for your “trivial” happenings (Cuddles and the likings.)

Sentimental. Which episode?

Can you put on The Eleventh Hour?

Of course.

Not usually.

Unless they have a very.. ostentatious icon in which John and I are both present. 

I’m not one to judge people on here. I don’t find it necessary.

But you do when the ask inplys us having sex.

Because I understand that you do not want it.

You are correct.

I never said I wasn’t.

Good. We’re on the same page.

When weren’t we?

I had my guesses.

Well they were wrong. A first for you, isn’t it.

I’ve been wrong before, John. It’s apart of the job.

Not when you’re in the picture.

No. Delete it, John.

I think it would be fun. We’ll go.

Delete it or I won’t get milk for a month.

I’ll get it myself. 

At times, yes, he refrains from verbal communication but there are ways I’ve worked out which allow me to see his needs without him saying a word. It helps that I’m a doctor, too, but he really hasn’t done it in the past few months. I’m sure though that when a more significant case arrives he will fall back onto old patterns.

I would never fret about his addiction, in and of itself, for the cases. Actually, it is amusing to see him and his ticking mind sort out through the different problems. I admire him for such things and him doing so causes me no harm whatsoever (In the sense that I am disheartened by his yearnings for them; they leave me harmless. By no means am I saying that helping him on cases causes me no physical harm because they occasionally do.).

I’m pleased to hear that. It always bounced off the corners of my mind.

What?

That you would be offended by my ways of working on cases.

I’ve lived with you long enough not to be. It’s now normal.

Splendid. One more banal thought diminished.

I too am delighted to have freed you from such thought.

What? Are we pretending to be Mycroft and the rest of the government? 

Pardon?

Oh, never mind.

Well I must admit that it wasn’t the slightest bit of boring.

You should’ve seen his face. It’s as if the world had let him down once more.

I presume. It wasn’t nearly what I was expecting, though I’m not sure what I was. Foolish of me even to be intrigued.

You should be delighted to hear that I’ve finished my examinations on they eyes; concluded them just as you searched it.

Trust me, Sherlock, I knew. You skipped around the flat like a dashing fairy. “I’ve got it!” you practically sang. I do believe I’ll be putting it up on the personal blog, eh?

Do so and I will remove of your possessions in every way possible.

Let’s not start a blackmailing fret, now. There’s no need for one.

As long as you refrain from posting it. Truce?

We’ll see.

No. Harry posted it in a comment on my blog once.

I don’t think I should notify you..

Why?

It’s highly inappropriate.

It can’t be that bad.

I don’t want you knowing. You could do something to Harriet.

I won’t do anything to my sister, Sherlock.

Still, I’m too engrossed in this dissecting to inform you.

I’ll search it on the internet.

Be my guest.

Not sure. I have a case which should occupy me for awhile. John’s got work.

Please tell me why I can’t sleep.

Anxiety, (as you said) loneliness, consumption of caffeine in recent hours, so on and so forth.

I don’t lack that much intellect. For God’s sake I’m a doctor! I know what can restrain a person from sleeping!

Of course you’re a doctor. You’ve made that clear as day.

The challenge is you know you have work tomorrow, but you also know I need help on this case, so you’re worried about how I will finish; thus causing you anxiety, but realize the just because you have a job, doesn’t intend you must sleep. I don’t and I’m exceptional!

What’s with the happy punctuation tonight? And you are not fine! You’re mad! Bonkers, Mrs. Hudson says.

A heart?

Seriously?

We’ve been defeated by electronic teen slang, John. Our careers are worthless!

For Christ’s sake I feel foolish.

You’re not alone.

I always planned on returning- it was purely a matter of time and distance.

Being truthful, I must admit that it was difficult to refrain from contacting him in any way possible. Somehow it did a great deal of damage towards me. Odd as it was, emotions came to the surface in both of us and haven’t really been settled since.

Back to the question. Why? Because I missed him. Although I feel utterly bland for admitting it, when demanding a simple point, I did. In eighteen months he was able to by some means latch on to my life, to every aspect of it, and I must say that John is tough to rid of when necessary.

I’m not aiming to poke a fight or any other manners, but I am surprised that you actually recognized such a normal feeling. I’m rather flattered now, too.

Yes, I can tell. Pupils dialating, flush cheeks as well as your more frequent glances up from your mobile directed towards me.

I don’t really think you need to reason it; you should know my thoughts just by sense.

Yes. Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?

Will you join me?

Not with this case. Stupid of me even to try.

I’ll be.. lonely.

Shall I sit with you for a few moments?

Only if it won’t trouble you.

Fine.

Who’s Daddy?

No clue.

That’s a first, but should we want to know?

Improbable.

Why are we being threatened?

The popularity of this blog is growing.

Should I do something about it?

Why am I being interrogated?

Because you are more knowledgeable in this situation.

This situation? Most situations, John.

True, but let’s get back to the point here.

The point, Mr. Watson-

Dr.

-Dr. Watson, is that Lethan, a serial murderer, had fingerprints tied to the break in.

Is Lestrade sure that those prints are his?

I’m sure.

Then why don’t we go chat with his relatives and such.

What good would that do us? …There’s something missing.

Aha!

Please inform me of the current happenings of the Mind Palace.

A motive.