A Study In Pink

What Is Pink?

"Why does your face keep doing that, John?" It was a beautiful day on baker street that rainy Tuesday. The wet drops fell rhythmically from the darkly shaded sky to the silky looking roads outside the flat. Streams flowed along the walks of baker street and on. The rain trickled down the window, each drop slowly making it's way down the pane of glass that seperated the detective and his blogger from the outside world.

"Hm?"

"That. Recently, when I look at you or talk to you or touch you your entire face...turns...pink! And it bothers me immensely that I do not know why it does such a thing."

Sherlock was now inches away from John's face. John had been sipping tea in his chair and reading a book, as he did on such days like this. Where had this come from? Sherlock had never said such a thing before. Fair enough though, John had never acted like this before. Then again, he never had a reason to.

"Huh? It's just a bit off puting when you stare at me so long, geez. Stop being so annoying."

"No. Tell me. Or at least give me something to go on, John. Something! Anything!"

"Calm down, Sherlock. You don't have to know everything. Don't be a git."

"I'll be as I so please. I will find out what's going on John Watson. I will know."

And with that, John's face felt beyond hot, and Sherlock dashed to his room. Going to his mind palace. He has to have something on..pink faces? Diseases. He looked through every single one he had ever learned about. Heard of. Spoke of. Everything. Nothing. What in bloody hell was John up to?