I swear I'm working on it but it's 3:30am now and this wouldn't leave my head but I'm like halfway done with chapter 4 of LMD! I promise! It would be nice if this one got some reviews, just cause I want to know how my random angst works. I like Sherlock's mind. It's messed up and creepy. Kay. Love you all!

Disclaimer: Ko: I'M STORY JUMPING NOW! :D

Me: Koschei, why?

Ko: Because you're taking too long! She owns nothing! I own nothing as well! Except for Theta's virginity. *grin*

Th:….Oh good lord….

I am not a machine. I feel things, really I do. But what's the point? What's the point of sentiment if it leads to heartbreak? Perhaps humans are just masochistic, or perhaps I'm broken. But I'm not a machine.

Sure, I've managed to divorce myself from feelings, to put up the facade of an uncaring sociopath, but sometimes I cheat on my work with feelings. Sometimes it comes to me like a mistress, taunting and seducing me to give in, and sometimes I do.

For example, I'm pretty sure a sociopath doesn't look at his flatmate and dream of his kiss. I am also fairly certain that they don't feel gut-wrenching jealousy every time that flatmate brings home another woman. Really, John. You're too good for them. They're all so dull and worthless. Albeit you're too good for me, but I digress. I'm far too selfish to care about that.

Ah, selfishness. Your cruel grasp has gotten me into so much trouble, and yet I must thank you. If it were not for you, John never would've believed half of the lies I spewed as to why I always showed up at his dates. He may have wondered why I came. Wondering being the most dangerous of confusions, for it is the one that often leads to answers. And oh, you must never know.

But I suppose I can also be selfless. I mean, I /am/ faking my own death to save your life. Yes, not only yours, but yours is the one that matters. I cried for you, John. I never cry. Crying is for the weak, for the sentimental, but I suppose feelings made an unannounced visit to me that day. Damn them.

So you see, John? I'm not a machine. I'm watching you go about your daily business while I play possum and I feel things. I feel hatred to my feelings, selfishness and jealousy towards your pathetic girlfriends, and love for you. Yes, I love you. I'd tell you to your face, and I will, right after you turn around.

"Hello, John. I think it's time I explain myself."