A/N: So this is my first attempt at a full-blown story. It will be at least a few chapters in length. It's an update of one of the original stories. It shouldn't be very difficult to deduce which one. :-)

Because of how I've placed this story, and what it is going to reveal about Sherlock's past, I am going to have to revise my "First Christmas" story, which comes chronologically after this one. Sorry about that! I'll make the revisions after I finish this story, though. Please tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm not making any money, and I fully acknowledge that this plot has been borrowed reverently from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The characters, of course, are from BBC's "Sherlock."

The Adventure of the Swinging Snitch

I have been writing up a few of the cases Sherlock and I have worked on, posting them on my blog. However, this particular case cannot be made public, at least, not any time soon. For one thing, I do not wish to inadvertently tarnish the reputation of the client involved, and for another...I have to respect Sherlock's privacy. I am therefore writing up the case as part of my own personal journal. I am going to record it from start to finish, preserving as many of the details as possible, in case it may become feasible to make it public sometime in the future. At the very least, writing it all out will help me better understand what I have learned about my flatmate and friend.

It all started only a few days ago. Sherlock and I had spent the day at home, kept inside by a late October storm. It rained hard all day, and the winds were unusually fierce. I felt tired and achy, and spent most of the day watching the telly.

Sherlock was working on one of his experiments in the kitchen. It appeared to be a complicated and dangerous one, because any attempt of mine to go into the kitchen was met with stern disapproval. The kitchen table was completely overwhelmed with test tubes, beakers, burners, Sherlock's microscope, and a number of other instruments.

Sometime after 18:00 I heard the sound of breaking glass, followed by a hissing noise and a horrible stench.

"AARGHHH!" came Sherlock's voice from the kitchen.

"Sherlock? Are you alright?"

"YES! DO NOT COME IN HERE!" was the reply.

I heard a flurry of activity followed by squeaking noise from the kitchen table and a groan from Sherlock.

"Sherlock? Have you hurt yourself?"

"NO!" came the irritated response.

The kitchen table squeaked several times more, in a rent-raising tone of voice. I sighed and tried to direct my attention back to the telly. A few minutes later, Sherlock emerged from the kitchen looking as if he was caught between despair and anger.

"Bloody useless lab equipment! What the hell is St. Bart's playing at? Trying to pass off these test tubes as research quality?"

"I don't see how you have much room to complain, as you probably 'liberated' them without permission," I remarked.

He threw me a dark look. "Molly gave them to me. I'll be having a word with her!"

"Sherlock, please don't. Leave the poor girl alone."

"I couldn't if I wanted to. She's far too important to me."

"Sherlock!" I looked at him severely. He rolled his eyes.

"Right. I forgot. It's not nice to use people, even though every single person in the world does it. But it's perfectly fine as long as no one is honest about it." He paused. "In any case, my day's work is ruined." He walked over to one of our windows and looked out. "The rain has stopped, in fact the clouds are gone. The wind has died off as well." He turned to me with a more cheerful attitude. "Let's go out!"

"Are you kidding? It's freezing out there!"

"Come on, do you want to stay here in the flat with nothing for me to do?"

"So you're threatening to punish me with your bad behavior if I don't agree to your plan?"

"You make that sound like it's a bad thing."

"Well, it's not good!"

"We can get some dinner," he said hopefully.

I gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine." I gave him a look that told him he was playing dirty. He just smiled. I was always trying to get him to eat more, how could I possibly refuse his offer to go eat? In retaliation, I took a good while to change clothes and bundle up. I was not going to be miserably cold on Sherlock's account.

"Oh for heaven's sake John, you look like you are going to the North Pole. It's just dinner at Angelo's - five minutes away!"

"Cold John is Grumpy John, so let me be!" came my voice, somewhat muffled from behind Sherlock's favorite scarf which I had snatched, mostly to try and annoy him.

"You. Look. Ridiculous." He sighed. "OK, let's go."

We had dinner at Angelo's by candlelight. I have long since quit trying to convince Angelo and his staff that Sherlock and I are not dating. I suppose walking in with Sherlock's signature scarf wrapped around my face doesn't help disabuse them of the notion any way. The concept doesn't really bother me anymore. Honestly, if anyone should be offended by the notion it should be Sherlock, as I'm sure he could do much better than me, if he wanted a man in his life.

By the time dinner was over I was in a much better mood. It had been my first meal since breakfast, as the kitchen had been off limits to me all day. Sherlock also seemed to be unusually relaxed and happy. I noticed that he ate most of his meal, which had been a large one.

After unsuccessfully attempting to pay Angelo for his food, Sherlock proposed that we take a walk around town for a bit. "I need to process some of this baggage," was his explanation as he patted his stomach.

I was feeling so warm and comfortable that I agreed. However, I still meticulously bundled myself up again. I didn't want to get cold while we rambled around. This time Sherlock just looked amused rather than irritated when I wound his scarf around my face. "You look like a...highway man or something," he smiled.

We left Angelo's and started walking. Sherlock's good humor continued and he became uncharacteristically chatty. He kept leaning over and muttering deductions to me about the people around us. "That man is having an affair with his wife's sister." "That woman has had a death in the family, likely a child." "That man has just lost a good deal of money and is wondering how long he can keep it a secret." Sometimes he explained his deductions, sometimes not. But it made for an amusing evening for both of us.

We were headed back to the flat, it was starting to get late, when Sherlock's phone rang. As his number is on his website, people tend to call at all hours. He merely silences it when he doesn't feel like taking calls. I assume he had left the phone on as he didn't have anything else going on at the time.

I didn't want to eavesdrop so I hurried ahead to the flat to unlock the door. I could hear Sherlock speaking to whomever it was behind me.

I had just finished un-bundling myself and was gathering my courage to peek into the kitchen when Sherlock followed me in. He looked pleased.

"It appears I have a case!"

"Lestrade?"

"No, a private party. He's coming over to fill in some more details and then we may go over to his place. He's quite desperate." Sherlock rubbed his hands together gleefully.

"What's the situation?"

"Well, I prefer to wait and hear the full story in person when he gets here, then you can hear it as well, but it sounds quite intriguing. I hope you will stay up and wait for him with me, and come with me if we do need to go over there. Your help may be invaluable, as he's a doctor and this seems to be a medical case in some respects."

"Sounds great! But if there is already one doctor involved in the case is there need of another?"

"John, you know I depend on you to tell me things as you see them. Of course I need you!"

So we sat down to wait for our doctor in distress.