Blogger, Entry 1: The Mystery of JohnLock

Entry 2: Sherlock's Mind Palace

Day 1: December 19th

1am

The man peeled his all seeing eyes, and looked around his bedroom. The lights peeked from each half closed window blind right into his tired eyes, earning a groan to erupt from his throat. Another day he begins to wonder what is wrong with him. He wondered why his body was betraying him so much. Every time, he was around John Watson he felt something strange that he never felt with anyone before...Well maybe a little with The Woman, but never this much. He even looked online to see what this feeling was and it kept saying love.

Love?

How could I feel love?

He thought about this guy months, but he gets nowhere. He goes to his mind palace frequently, and all he sees is the word love. He can't believe that it's true. He can't. He can't let this distraction ruin the results of his work.

Sherlock sighs, as he leans forward using his right hand as leverage. He walked out with nothing but a blanket to cover his nude body while holding his nicely pressed black suit into the bathroom. Sherlock hung his suit on the door hanger, then he ran the cold water and let his body adjust to its temperature. This is how he feels everyday. Cold. And surely everyone reminds him how much he can be cold and heartless. But that cold feeling slowly starts to subside when he's around John. He feels warmer than usual. Of course, John tells him that he can be an ass... though he didn't feel like a freak anymore.

The human part of him goes away immediately around other people. Like instinct. But when Sherlock is around John, he feels a little more human.

He groaned at the thought then got out of the shower. He got dressed and walked out down the hallway, into the kitchen past John. The doctor looked different today. He wore this ridiculous reindeer and snowflake sweater. He had to admit it did look rather...cute.

Dammit, Sherlock.

Get your act together!!!

John looked up from chopping his onions. "Good morning" John said like a cheerful child.

The detective looked over questionably ,then sat in his old chair. "Why are you wearing that ridiculous sweater, John? Don't tell me it's-"

"Christmas season, Sherlock. You know, the most wonderful time of the year." He said, continuing to cut his onions and the rest of his vegetables. Sherlock rolled his "You want an omelette?"

"I want a client!" He stood up, pacing.

You want John!

"Shut up." He grumbled.

"What?" He asked confusingly, as he poured his egg into the sizzling pan.

"Nothing... yes. The omelette, please." The detective stuttered lightly. John still expressed a perplexed appearance, though he continued with his cooking. "Alright" the doctor retorted. "You know, no clients may be a good thing."

Sherlock looked out the window.

"How so?"

"I don't know. You probably need this time to mingle with others..." John said in a doubtful tone.

The detective made a daunted face, not expecting him to say that. "Are you mental, John? I need a client... Something that would quench my thirst of adventure! I need the least irritating police officers and George to call me for a case." He scowled, having his violin and bow. He could see John face turn into a slight frown as he continued cooking. Sherlock watched how he perfectly flipped his omelette and scooped it out of the pan into the plate.